The sky was wrong.
That was Kaelon's first thought when Nova Drakhal slammed back into existence. One second — darkness, confusion, the pocket dimension's amber ceiling pressing down on them like a lid. The next — open air, stars, and ten thousand winged soldiers hovering above the city like a second sky made of blades.
He didn't waste a heartbeat.
"ALL UNITS TO THE WALLS! ARCHERS — COVERING FIRE! SHIELD BEARERS TO THE EASTERN GATE! ORZOTH — LIGHT THEM UP!"
His voice carried across the city like a war drum. Soldiers who'd been stumbling in confusion snapped to attention. Training took over. Muscle memory. The drills Kaelon had run every morning for months — the ones the younger soldiers had complained about, the ones the veterans had done in silence because they knew this day would come.
