The battle was won. Easily. Once the chosen knights defeated the white horsemen, the entire army fell down dead.
Now I stood in the Protector's temple, with one thousand chosen.
Every eye was on the Tumen, who stood resolute.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.
A mighty warrior stood beside him, his sword Lightstrike unsheathed and raised to the sky.
A great gate opened behind them.
"Enter, my warriors, and find peace in the golden halls."
"Attention!" The Tumen commanded.
The chosen stood tall.
"Forward. March!"
The chosen marched into the halls, heroes and champions.
Niyeena winked at me before she entered.
Once the final warrior had entered, the Tumen saluted to me, and together with the Protector, marched into the halls. The god, and his most favoured son.
In the distance I heard the song. The battle hymn that lived forever in the hearts of the victors, and the endless dunes.
*
I was holding vigil when they came. The desert, and the lost.
