Leo stood atop the southern battlements of Auravale, the wind whipping his coat around him like a cloak of shadows. The air smelled of sulfur, sweat, and the coppery tang of spilled blood.
Below him, the world was ending.
The South Gate, a massive structure of iron-reinforced oak that had stood for a century, was groaning under the assault. It was under siege not by an army of men, but by a tide of nightmares.
Thirty brave souls—City Watch guards who hadn't fled with Caelum—were holding the line. They were firing arrows into the mass of writhing bodies below, their faces masks of grim determination. Others were pouring cauldrons of boiling oil down the murder holes, eliciting shrieks of agony from the monsters climbing the walls.
"Reload!" a sergeant screamed, his voice hoarse. "Aim for the big ones! Don't let the Ogre reach the gate!"
BOOM.
