Edo is dead.

The new era rises from the ashes of the battlefield like a phoenix reborn, built on the backs of hundreds, thousands killed. Their bodies aren’t even cold when the humans finally surrender, bitter fetor of gunpowder heavy in the air, blood wet in snow.

The emperor didn’t survive the last few minutes, before the fighting stopped and the world gasped for air. He is slain. Everything has changed.

General Tora cleans her katana, blunt steel sliding across her thumb as she guides the blade home. The guard clicks against the sheath.

She will never use it again.