The transformation of the Iron Legion was complete.
For three days, the Royal Foundry never rested. The blacksmiths worked until they dropped, their hammers beating out a steady, mournful rhythm across the city. In the end, all their effort paid off.
Mirabelle stood on the reviewing stand in the palace's main courtyard. The sun was hidden behind thick grey clouds, as it often was since Revas broke the sky over the Holy City. A flat, silver light covered the assembly.
Before her stood five thousand men.
They no longer looked like a ragtag group of mercenaries. Now, they resembled statues shaped from twilight.
The Celestial Plate armor, made from the melted remains of the Eastern Titan, was no longer gleaming gold. After Revas' abyssal fire removed its holy wards, the Star-Metal became a deep, matte gunmetal grey. It absorbed light instead of reflecting it.
But it was the sound that was most unsettling.
