The Oizenians barely had time to blink before the nightmare unfolded.
As they stood trembling before the silent advance of the Black Stripes—that wall of polished steel and hungry shadows—their ears caught another sound. A series of heavy thuds, boots striking wood, then the shriek of steel being drawn. From their right flank, shadows moved.
Men dropped from the walls like spiders descending on silken threads, landing light-footed among barrels and tents. Their swords flashed in the torchlight, already wet.
A new horror dawned on the Oizenians—Alpheo hadn't sent one force.
He'd sent three.
And now the jaws of the trap snapped shut.
And so the first bites were taken
