The land sloped upward, the forests fading away as we entered the plains surrounding Roann and the Divine Throne. As twilight fell, the city lights glimmered on the horizon, surrounded by hundreds of glowing cookfires. Small beads of light drifted over the distant battlements: skyships patrolling the air. The spires of the Divine Throne glimmered behind it all, white against the darkening mountain backdrop.
Luke's horde came to rest a few miles from their front lines, snapping and snarling, but obeying his command to halt. Fyren found us a few minutes later, arriving in a cloud of white fire.
"The apostle plans to strike shortly before sunrise. Fatesworn scouts have infiltrated the city and are currently mapping their defenses," he explained.
