The Attack

Concordia, Seven Hundred Years Before

The rain had driven everyone into the tents and, due to the lack of space within them, early to bed – other than those which had injured from the explosion within them. Light spilled from those tents, and door flaps opened to the night revealing the activity within, servants carrying out bloody water to cast out onto the sodden earth, and others leaving bowls out to collect the falling rain.

Thaelen and Meguitte paused in their path. Their own injured had already been tended and were on the mend, however, miracle recoveries amongst the humans would only risk exposing the Concordians for that they were, and helping the humans would bring danger to his own people so they had left the humans to their own devices.

“How are your injured?” Thaelen enquired pausing in the awning of one such tent. The broken wails from inside chilled his bones. The roaring percussion of rain against the canvas and ground had stolen the sound from the tents until they drew