The night was chaos incarnate. Fire painted the sky in shades of orange and crimson, thick black smoke billowing like banners of war. The roar of collapsing tunnels beneath the city sent tremors through the earth, like the angry growl of a beast awakening from slumber. Dust choked the air, mixing with the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood.
The eastern wall of the fort had been the first to fall, blown apart by stolen explosives. What had once been an impenetrable barrier now lay in ruin, a gaping wound in the fort's defenses. The ground was littered with shattered stone and mangled bodies, the remnants of mercenaries who had been too close to the blast. The opening gave Lusweti and his warriors a direct path toward Almeida.
But the battle was far from over.
