A harried group of Tower defenders crouched behind a toppled statue in a wide marble hallway. Their breathing came in ragged bursts, sweat glistening on their foreheads.
An oppressive heat drifted down the corridor, an aftermath of clashing spells that had scorched the very air. Before them lay a swirl of drifting smoke and shattered stone where a cultist war party had battered at the Tower's inner defenses.
A flicker of pale light pulsed across the defenders' comm devices, drawing their attention. Static hissed, then a voice cut through the noise.
They both looked at each other, their faces brightening up as they recognised the voice as their Master's.
It was calm yet urgent, outlining swift, surprising tactics. They exchanged puzzled glances but followed the directives, each set of instructions sounding like a puzzle piece that fit perfectly into the chaos.
