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The early morning light filtered through the thick canopy of trees surrounding the Swamp Village, casting long shadows across the fortified perimeter. The air was thick with tension, every breath heavy with the anticipation of the battle to come.
Ashen stood at the front lines, his eyes scanning the horizon. The Ironclad Dominion's forces were drawing closer, their movements barely visible through the dense foliage. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of wildlife.
Suddenly, a faint tremor ran through the ground. Ashen's grip tightened around his staff as the tremor grew into a steady rhythm—the march of the enemy forces.
"They're here," Jaecar whispered, his keen senses picking up the approach before anyone else. His muscles were tense, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.