Across the walls of Dravos, the battle had descended into pure carnage.
The defenders were no longer fighting an army of strangers. Every section of the ramparts held familiar faces among the enemy now—Magus who had stood beside them days ago, Grand Magus whose names had once inspired respect, commanders who had shared victories, meals, and decades of friendship. Now they moved with the dreadful coordination of a single will, yellow eyes glowing as the hive directed them like limbs of the same body.
And while the defenders bled to kill their own, the horde never stopped advancing.
