The battlefield was a haze of mist that disguised the ground and all on it, except for an occassional spear or dead horse tall enough to reach above the white cloud. Kalyani stood at the edge of the valley; watching women and robbers of the dead picking through the remains, hearing the shrill keening of a woman who found what she had unwillingly sought. 'He couldn't be there. He couldn't be there.' Could he? The foreboding curiosity drew her out into the mist, through a forest of discarded banners. A flash of color caught her eye. His colors? Yes, they were. His banner? 'Please, no...' She walked toward it slowly, stopping when her foot hit against some unseen thing buried by the mist. Every part of her being screamed to turn, to run and leave whatever it was she had found, but she had to know. She knelt down and pulled the still form close enough to her to make out features. Blood clotted the hair on the side of the man's head along a mortal wound. With trembling fingers she turned his face to look at her. And it was his face.