The first city fell before dawn.
By the time the sun rose, its gates were already burning.
Smoke climbed into the pale morning sky like a warning flare, visible for miles.
Refugees poured onto the roads bloodied, terrified, carrying children and scraps of their lives in trembling arms. They spoke the same words again and again, as if saying them might make sense of the horror.
The Serpent King has returned.
At Iron Crown's forward command post, the news arrived in fragments intercepted calls, frantic reports, Luca's men relaying updates faster than maps could be redrawn.
Damian stood over the table, fists braced against the wood, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked beneath his skin.
"Not a skirmish," Luca said grimly. "Not a warning. Full occupation."
"Which city?" Damian asked.
Luca slid a tablet forward. The name glowed red on the screen.
Isabella inhaled sharply.
"That was neutral ground," she said. "Families. Trade routes. No military value."
