The merchants were screaming, abandoning their gold and their grain, trying frantically to flee toward the heavy iron gates. But the gates had been sealed shut with massive, impenetrable layers of corrosive web. They were trapped in a slaughterhouse.
"No," Kaya whispered, falling to her knees.
She watched a towering wooden water filtration system—the prototype she had sketched just hours ago—collapse into a pile of burning splinters as a giant spider crashed through it. She watched her ledgers, her market stalls, and her fragile, beautiful attempt at civilization being violently ripped to shreds.
It was all gone. Two months of grueling, meticulous work, erased in an hour of horrific violence.
"Hold the line! Protect the merchants!" Sarn's voice boomed over the chaos, though his green scales were severely burned and he was fighting with a severe limp.
Suddenly, a massive, piercing shriek split the night sky.
Kaya jerked her head up.
