Betrothed to the devil himself
Then, as the sun dipped low, a thunder shook the gates.
Drums rolled like distant storms. Horns blared through the city. The people rushed into the streets, and silence fell heavy as stone when they beheld the sight.
The army of the Horned King had arrived.
Armored riders clad in black steel rode at the front, their spears tipped with crimson banners bearing the sigil of the curved horn. Behind them, endless ranks of warriors filled the horizon—winged men whose shadows darkened the sky, horned women cloaked in smoke, beast-legged hunters with eyes that gleamed like predators. And at the center, pulled by obsidian steeds that snorted fire, came a carriage of iron and gold, vast and terrible,
Bab Populer