On the city wall, Lyra gazed upon the advancing Church Knight formations, rows of marching forward like slow-moving white walls. She drew the longsword at her waist. A few snowflakes drifted down, only to melt instantly upon contact with the sword's scorching surface, turning into and then evaporating into white mist.
Compared to several months prior, the walls protecting Liya Tower Fortress clearly bore the marks of prolonged warfare. Blackened scars from composite magical bombardments scarred the surface everywhere. Pockmarked sections remain unfilled by snow, exposing fractured gravel and cracked stone. The intricate magic carvings had been physically warped, losing both defensive and retaliatory capabilities.
The ground trembled. Each step the knights took on the frozen plain kicked up cold snow and soil. Sunlight glinted off their holy armor, reflecting dazzling beams of cold light.
"Everyone, take up your weapons."
