All across Memora heroes stirred in their homes. The battle against the Unfettered had changed the shape of civilization. Few believed they had finally won. Many could not comprehend that the battle had not yet been truly won.
Rumors drifted across the land that Markus the Vile had been defeated, and that the heroes of the Caravan had won. In some small villages, there was revelry. In placed of free trade, goods were given in celebration.
Dante Mecari knew better. These common folk could not understand that this was not Markus’s final plan. Indeed, his intent was much worse. Now that he had mostly succeeded in driving forces away from the Island of Laboris Solis, he would make his final moves. Dante worked tirelessly, for he had no intention of being alone in these final days. He ran his fingers across her delicate face, imaging how she might be when activated.. He had much to be thankful for. It was all a matter of perspective. Hopefully, he would end up on the winning side afterall.