Chapter 142. Rise of the Dragon Knight

Eryndor’s POV

The day of migration had finally arrived. After so much suffering and loss, we—nearly seven hundred souls—were at last setting out for the north. The weather cooperated: no threat of rain or hail, no choking clouds of dust. The sun hovered at the perfect warmth, neither too fierce nor too mild, as if it, too, understood the weight of what we were doing.

We marched through the shattered remains of the city gate, pausing only long enough to cast one last, lingering glance at Aurion. What had once been a thriving, bustling place was now broken and broken-hearted. Almost every home lay in ruin.

Every shop and institute lay empty or smashed to pieces. Only the great cathedral still stood, its stone spires rising defiantly among the wreckage. If we ever hope to restore Aurion to its former glory, it will be a monumental task—and we lack both the supplies and the food to begin that kind of rebuilding right now. We bowed our heads in a silent farewell