Kyra's POV
The weight of sleepless hours pressed against Kyra's skull as she forced her attention back to the mountain of reports covering her desk. Her leather armor carried the acrid scent of burning tar and battlefield smoke from the previous night's watch. The enemy's assault had struck with unexpected force this cycle, bringing waves of attackers against their defensive walls, creating dangerous pressure points at the southern entrance, and managing to break through the marketplace barriers twice before the siege engine crews could establish clear firing lanes. Their forces had avoided casualties, but the cost showed in bloodied palms, fractured bones, and a dozen warriors who would spend the coming days battling nightmares.
