Dawn came like a blade—sharp, cold, and unforgiving.
Liam stood at the head of three legions, approximately sixty thousand demons arrayed in assault formation behind him.
The enemy fortifications stretched across the horizon like a wound in the earth—wooden stakes, earthwork barriers, archer platforms, and the dull gleam of siege equipment positioned to turn the killing ground into exactly that.
Five thousand Radiant soldiers waited behind those defenses, and somewhere among them, battle-priests were already chanting prayers that made the air shimmer with consecrated power.
"Last chance to reconsider the suicide," Lilith said quietly from beside him.
She'd armored herself for war—proper battle plate that made her look every inch the Demon Queen she was. Her golden eyes were fixed on the fortifications, calculating angles of attack and death percentages with the same cold precision Liam had learned to employ.
"Can't," Liam said. "Already committed."
