The ruins of Stonebridge and Marrowport lay broken under smoke. Ash drifted through the valley like snow that burned instead of cooled.
Inigo crouched behind the tilted husk of the JLTV, blood streaking his temple. The M4 was hot in his grip, last magazine riding light. Lyra balanced on the shattered arch of a collapsed granary, her bowstring drawn, one arrow glowing faint under her touch.
Across the ruins, the Lord of Destruction loomed. His armor split with glowing cracks, molten seams hissing with every breath. His warhammer burned bright enough to cast long shadows across the broken docks.
He was waiting for them to break.
Inigo fired first. Short bursts, three rounds at a time, hammering into the same weak seam at the Lord's hip. Sparks burst, fragments of molten plate hissing into the stone.
