The silence that settled over the Iron-Tooth Defile was so profound that the trembling breath of thousands of soldiers sounded like the rustle of autumn leaves. Selene sat upon her white war-charger, her head held high, the silver crescent birthmark on the nape of her neck glowing with radiant starlight that cast long, shimmering beams across the frozen ground. She wore no helmet; her exquisite, serene face was exposed to…
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