Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
The steady footsteps of the palace servants and guards moving through the corridors barely reached Damian as he stood alone on the balcony beneath the twin crimson moons. Their pale red light spilled across the violet palace and stretched over the capital beyond its walls, bathing the rooftops in a faint, unnatural glow. From this height, Velmora looked peaceful. Beautiful, even. Yet the sounds drifting through the night told a different story.
The capital was alive.
Cheers rose from different districts, sometimes fading into the distance before another wave of celebration replaced them. Somewhere below, families were being reunited as soldiers and civilians connected to the rebellion swore new oaths to the crown and surrendered whatever information they possessed.
Most of that information had turned out to be useless. Nothing that would change the direction of the war. But Damian did not care.
