The western gate to the city shuddered.
Where intricate, ancient carvings had once
graced the towering iron plates, now only
dents and splattered blood remained.
A thunderous boom echoed throughout the
city, the mountains, and Aedion, panting as he
fought atop the battlements above the gates,
dared to look away from his latest opponent.
Dared to survey the wake of the battering
ram’s latest blow.
Soldiers filled the passageway to the gate,
more lining the streets beyond it. As many as
could be spared from the walls.
Soon now. Soon the western gate would
yield. After thousands of years, it would
finally sunder.
The Sword of Orynth was slick in his
bloodied hand, his ancient shield coated with
gore.
lily
(lily)
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