The night air over Lorrak's stronghold smelled of oil and damp stone. Nyra crouched on the ridge, binoculars pressed to her eyes, watching the rebel banners flap lazily on the walls. Kaelra stood beside her, armor already sealed, gauntlets flexing.
"Rift-rails are charged," Nyra said. "We hit them in six minutes."
Kaelra grinned, teeth flashing in the dark. "About time. I've been waiting to test these anchors properly."
The Thorn Legion moved like shadows. Instead of marching across the open fields where Lorrak's ballistae waited, they used the new rift-rail system.
Portable anchors slammed into the ground at pre-scouted points. Blue-white fractures opened, not the wild ones that tore men apart, but controlled passages stabilized by Blackvein's latest designs.
Elite squads stepped through and emerged directly on the eastern and western flanks, bypassing the main defensive line entirely.
Lorrak's scouts never saw them coming.
