Chapter 48 Fourty Seven

• "Where are the others?" Draeven's voice was a weary demand. His figure was barely recognizable in the dark, battered and bloodstained from the brutal months of fighting.
• "Sire!" The soldier called out, startled by the king's sudden presence, yet quickly subdued his voice in the stillness of the forest night. Draeven was dragging two unconscious, wounded soldiers across the forest floor with a makeshift banner while his face was devoid of any sign of pain or exhaustion, though his posture betrayed the toll of their arduous battle. "The captain discovered a cottage deeper in the woods. Please, sire—our remaining men are safe and being tended to. Rest yourself," the soldier urged, his own voice laced with concern.
• But Draeven's expression remained steeled as the bitter remnants of battle reflected in his eyes. The war, which he'd once hoped to end swiftly, had dragged on for two agonizing months, costing the lives of half his army and chipping away at his resolve. Every day, the thought of Avelyn, his beloved, had kept him pressing forward, the idea of finally reuniting with her providing his only warmth amidst the bloodshed. Yet, here he was, long overdue for her embrace, still combing the cursed forest for any trace of survivors.