The fog rolling through the western plaza was thick, smelling of dirt, blood, and rot. It drifted past the broken pillars of the square, wrapping around the legs of students who stood in uneven rows between the narrow alleys and the shelter entrance.
A mix of second-year and third-year fighters held their ground. Elves with bruised shoulders adjusted their bows, while a dwarf student leaned against his hammer, breathing through his mouth to clear the smell of beast blood.
A student spat dark saliva onto the ground and wiped his face with his sleeve. They were tired, their clothes torn, but nobody dropped their guard.
At the far end of the square, the wall stood cracked open, purple mist leaking through the gaps. Behind the defenders, the shelter doors groaned under the weight of hundreds of civilians huddled inside, their terrified whispers seeping through whenever a monster hit the ground outside.
