The horns sounded before the blood in the great hall had even dried. Atlas stood at the window of the secured wing, sword still slick in his hand, watching empire banners crest the outer walls.
Varyn's loyalists inside Birmingham had done their job—gates swung open from within, and armored columns poured through like floodwater. Shouts and steel clashes echoed up from the lower corridors already.
Elizabeth lay on a stretcher against the far wall, bandages soaked red across her abdomen. She coughed once, weak but clear. "Get Selene out. Now. The east tunnels."
Selene whimpered in the sling across Atlas's chest, her shadow marks pulsing faintly. The baby's eyes were too aware for her age.
Skritch scurried between them, copper beetles clicking in his palms as he rigged hasty traps along the doorframes. "Fields up in thirty seconds. They'll dampen shadow work, but not perfectly. Clara's going to hate it."
