The Black Bells of the Cathedral had not rung since the death of Mirabelle's grandfather, twenty years ago. They were massive, iron monstrosities that didn't chime so much as groan, sending a low-frequency vibration through the limestone bedrock of the city.
Today, they rang every hour.
DOOOM. DOOOM.
Mirabelle stood on the balcony of the War Room, watching her city transform.
It wasn't a panic; it was a siege. The Iron Legion had deployed into the streets. Squads of Grey Ghosts in their Star-Metal armor stood at every major intersection, their faces hidden behind visors. Barricades were being erected around the remaining food stores—the bakeries, the fish markets, even the private pantries of the wealthy.
"Martial Law," Mirabelle whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "I'm giving them cages."
