Lyra stood in her command post, watching the tactical situation deteriorate with merciless clarity.
The mental reports flooding through Seraphina's telepathic network painted a brutal picture:
"Eastern wall completely overwhelmed! Vex'ahlia's elites are taking catastrophic casualties! We can't hold!"
"Central section collapsing! Kelvin is wounded! Defenders are breaking!"
"Western wall is being overrun! My serpentfolk are dying by the dozen!"
Lyra's tactical mind processed the mathematics with cold precision. They'd lost the battle. The only question now was whether they'd lose just the position or lose everything.
Eight hundred seventy-three of her people at dawn. Now down to approximately seven hundred twenty effective fighters still engaging. One hundred fifty-three casualties in less than three hours of fighting.
Against twenty-six hundred human soldiers who kept coming in endless waves.
The mathematics were unsustainable.
