The dawn after the siege was not quiet.
The city of Blackreach smoldered, its streets littered with the wreckage of war broken blades, shattered shields, the bodies of the fallen. The citadel, once a symbol of strength, bore deep scars from the night's endless assault. Its walls were cracked, its towers hollowed by fire, its courtyards stained with the blood of defenders and invaders alike.
Yet through the ruin, the city breathed.
And with that breath came rebellion.
Whispers in the Ash
Cambria stood atop the highest battlement, wind tugging at her cloak as she gazed beyond the city walls to the horizon, where Seraphine's black fleet grew larger with every heartbeat. Sails like wings of ravens, their edges tipped with silver fire, glinted in the sickly light of dawn.
Beside her, Maddox surveyed the damage. His armor was dented and bloodied, his face drawn with exhaustion.
"How long before they reach us?" he asked.
