The wind up here tasted like smoke.
Seul hung in the air above the old fortress with her robe snapping around her legs, and looked down at the burning city spread out below. From this high, she could see all of it. The great ring of the ancient walls, winding over the hills. The church at the heart of it all, its bell tower dark against the paling sky. The tiled rooftops, the narrow lanes, the gardens silver with dew.
And she could see the fires.
Five of them, now, burning in a slow, careful ring around the edges of the fortress. One to the east, where the long row of storehouses had been. One to the south, near the old granary. One to the north, at the foot of the watchtowers. One to the west, in a cluster of empty halls behind the training ground. And one more, newer, just catching, close to the eastern gate.
Every one of them exactly where it was supposed to be.
Seul let out a slow breath.
