Dacre watched his whole city was burned to the ground, smoke was spiraling to the bleak afternoon sky, tainted its bright light from the sun.
People and beasts screamed in agony as the royal warriors were still fighting their attacker, but the resistance was no longer a problem. The enemy would reach the palace anytime soon.
The gates to the palace were blocked, but it didn't matter too, they would tear it down. There was no gates that could stand against such force.
Yet, the king could only watch everything crumble down. The kingdom that he built. The throne that belonged to him. His birthright. His legacy.
Khaos indeed played his schemes really well. He had thought everything for years, ever since they were little.