“It’s Julius, warlord,” said a voice I recognized, but could not name. “Julius!”
The night was lit by five thousand orbs of blinding brilliance, arching overhead. I lowered my lightspear, feeling immediately outclassed. Not since the war of the first Faith would there have been a bombardment of the scale and ferocity of this one.
“What about him?” shouted the warlord over the fury as the barrage came down. This time, I thought the wall did shake. “Think! Think clearly!”
“We cannot,” said the voice in the quiet after the impact. “The Neverborn diminish. Julius has fallen. Three snipers, the corner of the wall. One shot his head. We reached the top of the bluffs. Julius died the true death. He won’t walk this world again.”