Rock of Aracina(1)

The wind howled through the battlements like a dirge, carrying with it the scent of damp stone and cold iron. Asag stood motionless atop Aracina's walls, his cloak whipping behind him like a tattered standard. Below, the city roused itself—not with the orderly precision of a garrison preparing for war, but with the desperate, scrambling energy of a beast backed into a corner.

Armor straps creaked as men tightened them with shaking hands. Bowstrings thrummed in testing pulls, the sound sharp as snapped bones. Soldiers sprinted along the ramparts, their boots hitting the stone of the wall as they reached their position

Yet Asag's gaze never wavered from the horizon.

The Oizenian host had come.