He looked once more at the approaching demon and felt his blood run cold. His whole body shivered at the thought of the demon’s touch. Hurriedly, he scampered up the mast as the demon drew closer to the ship. He pulled a line free from the mast and hurriedly tied it around his neck. By the time he had completed the knot, the demon stood alongside the ship. Shiny black claws reached out to snare the captain, but he deftly avoid them. He ducked behind the mast and then dove towards the deck. A loud crack rent the air as the rope went taut, the captain’s body swinging wildly from the end of the rope a mere pace above the deck.

* * *

The city of Teramar on the Island of Darkness was teeming with excitement. A sea of red uniforms flowed through the city as soldiers clogged the streets. Merchants closed up their shops as they ran out of merchandise to sell, and the inns were overflowing with drunken soldiers partying before the war. Outside the city, tents and campfires dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. Tens of thousands of red-clad soldiers were still converging on the already packed city as the sun sank towards the western horizon.

On the roof of the main building hosting the headquarters of the army, Doralin stood watching the assembly of his armies. His red uniform was resplendent with numerous gold bars and stripes denoting the highest military rank afforded to an officer in Vand’s army, that of premer. There were only four premers in the entire army, and each had dozens of generals under his command. For the coming invasion, Premer Doralin had been assigned thirty generals, each commanding a force of ten thousand men. Those armies were now converging on Teramar to board the ships.

“It is quite a sight,” smiled General Valatosa, “is it not?”

“It is,” the premer nodded in satisfaction. “We have waited for this moment for far too long, but it is finally upon us. Are your men prepared?”