Chapter 114 They Are At The Gate Part 1
The air smelled sharply of iron, mixed with the biting cold. Before dawn, monsters and martyrs ruled the world. Daisy Smithson held tight to the crumbling parapet of Brightwater’s northern wall, her boots slipping on the frost as her heart pounded. Brightwater was the last free city before the western wilds, the only barrier against the Ironclaw advance. If it fell, the empire’s armies would sweep through untouched villages and destroy everything Daisy’s people had left. The old stones felt alive, each seam glowing with the sigil-inked runes she had painted with her own blood. Her raw, red magic throbbed with her heartbeat. Below, the fog twisted and parted, hiding things that waited for sunrise.
Xeris stood next to her, his golden eyes narrowed as he studied the valley. He looked human, but didn’t seem tired at all. His coat was neat, his gloves spotless, and his calm face almost felt like an insult. He tilted his head and said quietly, “They’re testing us. Looking for gaps in your blood magic.”
“They won’t find any,” Daisy said, her voice rough from sleepless nights. For a moment, fear rose in her. If Brightwater fell, she would lose the last place that ever felt like home.
That wasn’t true. She had already run dry twice tonight, patching the wards with adrenaline and whatever she could force from her damaged veins. Blood magic was demanding and exact, tied to her own life and strength. The chain that protected Brightwater fed on her power; every spell took something from her, and every mistake could take everything. If she pushed too hard, the magic would turn on her, blackening her blood and burning her nerves. Each time she forced magic through the chain, her vision blurred and her grip slipped, leaving her scrambling for balance. The city was always under pressure. Whenever she fixed one chain, another broke somewhere else, the backlash crawling up her arms in black veins. Delia’s potions kept her going, but her hands still shook, and numbness crept into her fingers, worsening with each patch. If she went too far, the magic would eat her from the inside, leaving only ash and a faint taste of iron.
In the field below, the Ironclaw’s vanguard appeared only as brief shapes: cloaks darker than moonlight, boots as quiet as falling ash. But what unsettled Daisy more was the faint sound drifting before them—a low, lilting melody like a lullaby played on wind chimes, somehow soft but piercing in the cold. For an instant, it almost felt beautiful, the notes winding through the fog. Then the breeze shifted, and with the music came the sweet scent of oranges, completely out of place in the winter-dark. Their sigils were simple, cold blue, and sharp as a knife. The new soldiers wore silver masks, and every move was practiced and precise. When the first volley came, it didn’t even look like magic.
A dozen silver staves lifted, sending a white pulse toward the base of the wall. It wasn’t a fireball or a showy spell. The energy hit with a dull thump, and as the shock spread, the sigil lines at the impact point flickered hard, then failed with a sharp snap that echoed up the stones. Daisy tasted metal on her tongue as the runes cracked, and a harsh smell of ozone burned through the cold. Every line that went out left a faint tremor in the wall under her boots.
“Not bad,” Xeris said, admiration in the drawl. “They’re using amplified nulls. Old empire tech.”
“Is there a way to counter it?” Daisy hissed, fingers jammed against the bleeding runes.
He shrugged. “Not if you play by their rules.”
She bared her teeth and pressed harder.
Another volley struck, then another. The pulses hit the parapet and bounced along the sigil tracks Daisy had carved all week. She felt the force in her teeth and in the chain that linked her to every warded part of the wall. It felt personal, like someone wanted to break open her skull and take what was inside. Beside her, Xeris watched with narrowed eyes, then spoke almost absently, “They want us to waste our strength here. If they think I’m impatient, they’ll press a little harder and walk right into my answer.”
Xeris tensed. “They’ll send the first wave up now. You should drop to the inner walk.”
Daisy ignored him. “They’ll target me no matter where I stand. Better to see it coming.”
Below, the first line of Ironclaw foot soldiers advanced, moving in perfect sync. Their shields overlapped, forming a continuous wall of steel, each stamped with a stylized black-and-white flower.
Daisy blinked. No. Not a flower. Ceramic, shaped like a daisy, was welded to the shields. The petals caught the dawn’s uncertain light, refracting it into shifting auras.
“Shit,” she muttered. “They’re using chain-breakers.”
Xeris followed her gaze. “That’s… not ideal.”
Daisy spotted them: tall, silent, and so still they might’ve been statues. Each clutched a silver staff topped with a spinning black spiral. As she watched, a breath of unnatural chill crept along the parapet, prickling the skin beneath her coat and frosting the edge of her breath. The nearest sigil on the stones flickered with a weak blue pulse, like a candle threatened by a sudden draft. The Veilseekers didn’t participate in the assault. They watched, waiting for a signal.
Daisy spotted them: tall, silent, and so still they might’ve been statues. Each clutched a silver staff topped with a spinning black spiral. They watched, waiting for a signal.
“Why aren’t they leading?” Daisy whispered.
“They’re the hammer,” Xeris replied. “This is just the wedge.”