The gates of the monster capital loomed like cliffs carved from black stone. Runes blazed across them in burning gold, humming with power that pressed even the air flat. From a distance the walls seemed unshakable, their height scraping the low clouds, their towers lined with watchfires that burned silver instead of flame.
But the closer they came, the more it stank of fear.
Thousands pressed against the gates. Wolfkin limped on broken legs, their packs scattered and bloodied. Boar soldiers with cracked armor shoved their way forward, tusks still stained with ash from their ruined homeland. Serpents with half-burned coils slithered through the crowd, hissing in panic. Foxkin darted between larger beasts, their illusions flickering wild and uncontrolled as they clawed for space. The air was thick with cries, roars, and pleas.
"Let us in!" one bellowed, his voice raw.
"The capital is the only place left!" another screamed, dragging a wounded child through the crush.
