The wind on the Chase carried voices again not of men, but the echoes of those buried beneath the hills.
Taranis sat by the fire, sharpening his blade as the Black Shields slept around him.
He no longer knew if they were fighting for Britain, or for ghosts.
The Picts came by night, howling through the fog.
When the first fell, Taranis felt nothing only the land moving beneath his feet, as if the soil itself had taken breath.
He whispered a vow into the dark:
We guard what Rome forgot. We guard the living and the dead.
Somewhere in the mist, the old gods listened.
This scene is part of “The Hollow Years – When the Eagles Fled.”
To read the full story:
StormborneLore 
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