The main gates of the Sanctum of Solaris were shattered.
The heavy iron gate lay twisted on the cobblestones, forced open by waves of fleeing citizens.
The dull gray twilight of the Eclipse Convergence stretched over the plains beyond the city walls.
Lucifer marched through the ruined gates.
He did not ride. He walked at the center of the two hundred Solaris Templars. Lyra, the Dawn Saintess, marched at the front of the wedge, her silver broadsword burning with blinding white holy fire. Elara covered the rear, her Twilight wings shifting in the gloom.
The Warlord emerged onto the staging ground.
It was a chaotic ocean of humanity.
The sprawling plains outside the capital were packed. Millions of refugees huddled in terrified masses. But mixed among them was the true prize.
Thirteen million armed personnel had gathered.
