---
The ramp came into view — a broad, sloped field of stone that narrowed and bent three times before it met the open desert. Drones already filled the first bend, ten ranks deep, shield-plates locked, spear-hafts set in the grooves Lirien's people had carved to bite them. The second bend, higher up, held the reserve line; the third was clear, the last mouth before the mountain closed its teeth outright.
Beyond the ramp, the desert rolled away to the horizon like something pretending to be harmless. Far out, a dark smear moved — Vorak's forward detachment. Four thousand bodies make a different shape on sand than three; a heavier kind of dust.
"Host," the system murmured.
[Ding! External telemetry—
Enemy vanguard: 4,000+ signatures.
Average aura density: Star Rank 4.
Command spikes: 5★ x 12. 6★ x 1.
Formation: triple block, shield-forward, spear-mid, caster-rear.
Estimated time to contact: 00:47:30 at current march speed.]
