The massive iron sea-gate of Glacial Lanka rose two hundred feet into the stormy sky, sealing the icy fjord like a solid wall of black steel.
Heavy icicles hung from the jagged iron teeth of the portcullis, while dozens of automated steam cannons swept the dark waters for incoming vessels.
A league out, the allied armada held its position in the freezing mist, their dark sails reefed to avoid catching the harsh artillery light.
On the flagship's high prow, Lady Kiana rested low on the balls of her boots, crouched on the narrow wooden railing like a sleek predator eyeing its prey.
Her dark Sekana leather was dusted with snow, her gloved fingers resting lightly on her knees while her dust-rose eyes mapped the humming power conduits running along the iron gate.
The wind howled around her lithe frame, but she did not sway an inch, completely anchored in her feline balance as her aura settled into an eerie, soundless void.
