The dead of night had settled over Ravenhold, yet the treeline at the empire's edge showed no sign of yielding its horrors. The beasts kept coming, an unbroken tide of fangs and claws that surged from the darkness without pause.
But even in the deep hours, there was no darkness here. No silence, either.
The ramparts blazed with light, gout after gout of cannon fire, the flash of rifles, the flicker of oil-soaked torches illuminating faces smeared with sweat and blood. The night air rang with the constant crack of gunfire, the scrape of steel on scale, the roar of beasts, and the shouts of men trying not to die.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
"Rinse and repeat! Don't let the barrage stop! First battalion fires, then the second, then the third. That gives the first enough time to reload and fire again!"
Anastasia's voice cut across the rampart, commanding cannons and riflemen alike to maintain their relentless bombardment.
And she was absurdly effective.
