Sirius tilted its massive white-furred head slightly, unbothered.
Asher inhaled deeply.
Together, rider and beast opened their jaws and breathed ruin.
A wave of flame surged forth—not red, but a blazing fusion of orange and blue, hotter than forgefire, wider than a siege tower. It roared across the field like a tidal wave of judgment.
The very air sizzled as the flames struck the volley. In an instant, the arrows ignited, twisted, and disintegrated. All twelve thousand—gone. Incinerated mid-air, reduced to cinders that never even kissed the earth.
Solvane staggered backward atop the rampart, shielding his face with a trembling arm as the radiant heat slammed into him. He watched in horror as his final hope, the coordinated barrage, was turned to smoke.
But Cyclox was not done.
A fresh volley screamed through the air, ballista bolts, thick as tree trunks, hurled from the inner walls with deadly force. Each one aimed straight at Sirius.