The cannon's thunder faded, but only for a breath. Raven stood tall on the left flank, the heat of mana discharge still clinging to the air. Black smoke curled above the battlefield, thick enough to blot out the pale dome-light overhead. Burned armor, shattered stone, and broken limbs painted the street below.
"Keep the line tight!" Raven called. "We reload, we fire. Again."
Another round of cannon blasts tore into the Velkarin vanguard—twisting bodies mid-stride, sending war cries into abrupt silence. Still, more came. Unrelenting. The Axis had numbers. Numbers and magic.
Raven's gaze flicked to the backline.
He could feel it.
Pressure—behind them.
Maeryn made her move.
If she struck from the temple's inner sanctum now, the defense would be caught between hammer and anvil.
"We're being pinched," he muttered, jaw clenched. "Damn it."
