Dawn was just breaking over Atlanta when Territorial Sentience screamed in Clayton's mind, Hive-Sight mapping shadowy movements.
Dozens of hostile signatures moved fast from the north.
Unlike Ironshades, these weren't scouts. Their Genesis signatures burned like twisted suns, warped and metallic.
Clayton was awake as usual, and he reacted first.
"Torren!" His voice carried like a whip.
Within moments, Torren, Veyra, Kaelin, Soren, and Lorn gathered at the Rootsite's command ridge. Below, civilians huddled in growing panic, sensing danger long before they saw it.
Torren scanned the horizon, Pyreaxe igniting. "That's not a raid," he said grimly, eyes dimming. "That's an army".
Veyra nocked an arrow, her Mythprint bow glowing faintly. "Apostates. Elite ones. You can feel their aura".
Her brows furrowed. "All these belong to Korrath too?"
