The first sound was thunder — not from the heavens, but from the earth itself.
The cannons roared across the eastern ridgeline, shaking the sand and soil of Sunreach. A storm of fire and steel rolled through the morning fog, tearing apart the silence that had haunted the fortress since dawn.
"Enemy approaching from the southern gate! Siege towers—three of them!"
The call echoed from the watchtower. Soldiers scrambled into formation, boots hammering the stone ramparts. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and burning pitch. Dust and heat wrapped around them like a living thing.
General Noah stood atop the command bastion, coat flapping against the rising wind. His eyes cut through the smoke — silver, sharp, unblinking.
"Signal the third regiment to brace the left flank," he ordered. "May, get the artillery turned toward the ridge. They're pushing from the valley, not the plain."
