Echoes in Udûn
Two months had passed, and Udûn had begun to whisper again.
Not with the crackle of forges or the grind of war machines—
but with the rumor of her.
Deorla the Herald.
Deorla the Returning Flame.
Some orcs swore they saw a pale silhouette stalking the borders.
Others claimed their patrols were cursed—missing men, silent blades in the dark, fires snuffed while their backs were turned.
Nothing decisive.
Nothing final.
