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Summary
Dense fog. Ghost ships. Movement at the border.
Inuyasha had been a Witcher for a long time. He’d seen petty tribal squabbles, he’d seen blood shed and magic cast about so heavy that the air was thick with it. He fought creatures of all shapes and sizes that had killed humans mercilessly. He’d seen villages burn, women and children’s rotting corpses, and hopelessness spread like a plague. All this, and yet he had not seen full-on war between any two territories. But hundreds of years of relative peace was not enough to make him a fool. Whether Cintra wanted to accept it or not, war was coming. Most likely, it was already on their doorstep.