Move. Fight. War.

The Necromancer called. Milo had to obey, compelled.

Once, movement was effortless. Now each step felt heavier. Yet his !magic felt so much more powerful. Was the price worth the sacrifice?

He had to move. He didn't want to. But knew he couldn't reject the visceral impulse to step forward.

One step, two steps, three steps...

The March had begun.

The world braced for War.

Move. Fight. War.

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