Trojan Horse

The obsidian sky with scattered silver tears embraced the Valley of Gods warmly, gracing the land once again with its ambient hues and where the walls ended, that same warmth transcended towards a chilling cold.

Wind that day was like serpent of ice, coiling around the hearts of men.

There is no sound among the army that hid and watched the valley from afar, yet everyone is moving, pacing, and fumbling among themselves.

Some knight walk back and forth and take occasional glances towards the distant lights of town.

They were shrouded with darkness, and no enemy could see them from that but the air was thick with tension.

The commander of the general clenched his jaw tight, his leg rapped up and down urgently and his eyes stayed rooted towards the giant gate of the valley.

Any time now, a signal would be sent... or it won't. If it never comes, then the last grasp of hope would be shattered as well.

Or if the signal comes...