The Lord of the Mountains stood high up on the watchtower, squinting to see through the fog. A young woman on a horse sped over the narrow mountain path, rushing towards the city gates. The Lord recognised her. One of the scouts. Her fast pace, he thought to himself, did not bode well.

Did anything bode well these days?

He descended from the tower, also in a hurry, not bothering to hide the nerves going haywire in his body. His fingers trembled as he made it to the city gates and ordered them to be opened so the scout could come in. Once the young woman had passed through, her horse didn't come to a halt immediately; it kept running, having so much momentum it needed more space to slow down properly. The Lord shouted for the gates to close again and ran after the horse.

When the animal did come to a halt, the scout almost fell out of the saddle, so fast did she want to stand on her own two feet again. As the Lord approached her, he made note of the expression on her face: One of disgust and horror. Gods, the horror... Never before had he seen so much of it on a girl so young.

"Tell me," he commanded, stern. "What did you see out there?"

"It fell." The girl spat the word out as if she still couldn't believe it. The look in her eyes was positively frantic. "The Free City fell. It was a nightmare! So many dead, my lord... So many dead..."

The Lord closed his eyes briefly. If the Free City had fallen, was there any hope left?

"So it belongs to them now. Gods have mercy on us. Is there anything else I must know?"

"Yes." The scout shook like a leaf in the wind. "There's a herd of them moving in this direction. They want to devour us all, my lord, and at this rate, they'll be here within days. The Cursed will soon be standing at our gates."

Then, the Lord knew, there truly was no hope left.