The sky wasn't black. It was a churning, bruised purple, choked by the smoke of a thousand burning pyres.
"SHIELDS!"
Oliver didn't have to think. The body he inhabited moved on its own accord, muscle memory overriding his confusion. He slammed the heavy tower shield down onto the stone battlements, bracing his shoulder against the cold steel.
THWACK. THWACK. THWACK-THWACK.
The sound of arrows raining down was like hail on a tin roof, but heavier. Deadlier. A scream erupted to his left—a soldier hadn't raised his shield fast enough. An arrow the size of a spear had punched through his throat, pinning him to the stone floor. He gurgled, hands clawing uselessly at the shaft, before going still.
Oliver stared. He could see the light fading from the man's eyes. He could smell the sudden release of bowels mixed with the copper tang of blood.
It's fake, Oliver told himself, his breath hitching in his chest. It's a simulation. Just a test. That guy isn't real. He's just… data.
