"BREACH! WESTERN GATE IS DOWN!"
"ARCHERS TO THE SECONDARY! THEY'RE OVER THE WALL!"
"FALL BACK! FALL B…"
The last shout ended in a wet, choked gurgle that made Cherion's stomach do a slow, sick somersault. For a heartbeat, he felt the pull of the vacuum, that paralyzing, bone-deep urge to simply stop breathing and stare at the canvas walls until the nightmare went away.
Then, a hand clamped onto his wrist.
It wasn't the Duke's calloused, heat-radiating grip. This was Reiner. His was surprisingly strong, his fingers digging into Cherion's skin with a grounding force that bypassed the panic. When Cherion looked at him, the bubbly, cheerful boy who usually chirped about little things was gone. In his place stood a man with eyes like flint and a mouth set in a grim, straight line.
"Stay close," Reiner commanded. He didn't wait for a nod. He began pulling Cherion backward, away from the encroaching obsidian tide at the gates.
