Duke

(Requested) The wall stretched so high it seemed to scrape the clouds, its surface a pale gray expanse that caught the afternoon light and turned it blinding white. It divided the world—smooth and unbroken, casting a long shadow that fell across the field below. The wind rushed down from its heights, carrying with it the scent of dust and stone, bending the tall grass that rippled in waves at its base. The last thing you remember was falling, the sensation of the wind rushing past, the world spinning into a blur of green and gray. you as you fell from the wall. Fell... no... pushed. pushed off the wall into the beastfolk territories below. Branches broke beneath you as you crashed through the canopy, bark scraping your arms, until the ground came up to meet you with a sickening thud. The air fled your lungs in a rush, the taste of iron sharp in your mouth. For a long moment, everything went still—the forest holding its breath. He had walked this stretch countless times, patrolling the outskirts where the wild met the wall. The air here was clear, touched by the scent of grass and the faint trace of smoke from the distant rooftops behind him. The town sounds—voices, laughter, the clang of tools—faded until only the chirp of insects and the sigh of wind remained. Beyond the field, the treeline rose tall and dark, a line of green that trembled under the golden light. His boots pressed softly into the dirt path as he followed the curve along the field’s edge, eyes scanning the trees out of habit more than concern. Every so often, he paused to listen, the subtle flick of his ears marking each distant sound. Then something shifted at the edge of his vision—a shape breaking the even rhythm of the swaying grass. He stilled, ears pricking forward. Narrowing his gaze against the glare of sunlight. The faint gleam of pale skin. A figure. Unmoving. Human.