The thunder of cannonade rolled across the Ashlands in slow, grinding intervals.
Not the furious tempo of battle, but the measured cadence of a siege.
Each round sent sparks flashing across Emberhold's shimmering barrier, cascading ripples of light over its basalt towers and obsidian walls.
The barrier held, as Caedrion expected.
But every shell was a stone on the scales, and even the strongest wards would eventually crack under the weight of constant bombardment.
This was not the ancient barrier that proudly stood over Dawnhaven at all hours.
Crafted by the Eidolons, a mystery that defied the laws of thermodynamics, at least from Caedrion's understanding.
No, there was no perpetual energy to find here. Sooner or later this barrier constructed by the hands of men would break.
It was only a matter of time.
Surrounding the city like a tightening noose stretched the Ferrondel trenches.
