Maruzan hadn’t truly slept, but when he did, he had strange dreams. The air inside the cave was damp and thick, smelling faintly of salt and stone. Every few breaths, he heard the sea roll against the rocks outside. It was a calm, steady rhythm, something ancient and patient. But the calm only made his nerves worse.

  He sat upright, his heart beating in slow, heavy thuds. It wasn’t fear exactly, though fear sat close by. It was more like the weight of knowing what waited beyond the dark. Something was coming. Something big. He had felt it since the day before, like pressure under the skin.

  He turned toward Velthur. The boy was curled beneath a thin blanket, his chest rising and falling. He looked peaceful in that moment, too young for the world waiting outside. Maruzan hesitated before leaning down and putting a hand gently on his shoulder.

  “Vel,” he whispered.

  Velthur stirred, eyes blinking open. “What’s wrong?”

  “Stay here,” Maruzan said softly. “I’m going to warn them. Be ready to leave when I get back.”

  Velthur sat up, rubbing his eyes. “You think it’s happening now?”

  Maruzan nodded once. “Soon. I can feel it. I don’t know why, but I have an intuition. I think I felt them in my dreams.”

  Velthur didn’t argue. He just looked at Maruzan for a long moment, then nodded. “I feel it too. Be careful.”

  Maruzan gave a small, forced smile. “Always.”

  He adjusted the straps on his coat, checked the dagger at his belt, and stepped out into the morning chill.

  Outside, the world was still half-asleep. A low wind rolled in from the sea, brushing his face with cold mist. The sky above was pale, washed gray before dawn. A few stars still hung faintly in the distance, but they were fading fast.

  He moved fast across the slope, following the same route they had taken the night before. The breach in the southern wall loomed ahead, its stones dark and broken. No sentries patrolled this far south, too few soldiers, too many places to guard. He slipped through easily, his boots brushing against sand and fallen mortar.

  Harbinth lay quiet on the other side.

  The city was both alive and asleep, lamplight in a few upper windows, the faint crackle of hearth fires from somewhere deeper in the streets. The smell of smoke, and sea hung together like a memory. Maruzan kept low as he moved through the alleys.

  He reached the inn first. It had become a gathering place for the dwarves, half barracks, half kitchen. The door creaked as he pushed it open.

  Inside, the air was warm and thick with smoke. The smell of oil and metal filled the room. Bram, Torli, and several other dwarves sat at a long table, each one hunched over blades, running whetstones along the edges in steady, precise strokes. Their faces were calm but focused. Every movement had the feel of ritual, an old dwarven habit before battle. Sharpen, polish, braid the beard, tie the braids. Small acts of order before the storm.

  Maruzan stepped closer. “The attack is coming,” he said, voice firm. “Soon.”

  Bram looked up. His hand stilled, the whetstone halfway down his axe blade. “You’re sure?”

  Maruzan nodded.

  Torli gave a quiet grunt and started packing away his tools. “Then we’re ready.”

  No one asked how he knew. They didn’t need to. The dwarves were practical people, they trusted those who spoke with certainty.

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  “Tell the others,” Maruzan said. “Spread the word quietly. No horns. No panic.”

  Bram’s mouth twitched in something close to a smile. “Aye. Quiet as a tomb.”

  Maruzan didn’t linger. He turned and left the inn, the door creaking closed behind him.

  The streets were waking now. He could hear the scrape of boots on cobblestone, the muffled clatter of armor being fastened. Lamps were being lit near the walls, and somewhere in the distance, a door slammed open.

  He made his way toward the old storehouse, one of the few sturdy stone buildings still standing near the city’s heart. That’s where he’d find them, Eborin, Vane, Ennett. The ones who had stayed to lead.

  He wasn’t wrong. Inside, a few lanterns burned low over a wide table littered with maps, scrolls, and ledgers. The three of them stood around it, voices low but tense.

  “Three more barrels of oil from the docks,” Ennett was saying. “We can use them for fire traps near the east gate if we have time.”

  “We won’t,” Vane said. “The kobolds will take the shortest path. They’ll hit the main gate.”

  Eborin rubbed his temple. “And we have how many to hold it? Two hundred trained, perhaps half again untrained?”

  Maruzan stepped into the light. “It’s happening. They’re coming—this morning.”

  Ennett looked up sharply. “How do you—”

  Vane’s hand lifted. He studied Maruzan’s face, then gave a single nod. “He’s right.”

  Eborin turned, eyes weary but sharp. “You’re certain?”

  Maruzan nodded again. “Certain.”

  That was all it took. No one wasted another word.

  Within moments, the quiet in the room broke apart like glass. Runners were sent for the captains. Lanterns were lit in the towers. The clank of armor and the scrape of weapons filled the air as soldiers took their places along the wall.

  Maruzan stepped outside and watched the city come alive. It was strange, almost beautiful in its own way. There was no shouting, no chaos, only quiet purpose. The people who remained had long accepted what was coming.

  Ennett moved among them, calm and direct, her voice steady as she gave orders. “Archers to the wall! Oil to the ramparts! Keep the lights low, no torches facing the field.”

  The dwarves began hauling barrels toward the gates, their heavy boots thudding in rhythm. From somewhere near the docks came the creak of ropes and pulleys, the groan of wood shifting under weight.

  Above them all, the morning light began to climb. The gray gave way to pale gold, and with it came the distant echo of drums.

  Maruzan froze. It was faint at first, just a rhythm beneath the wind, but he knew the sound of war when he heard it.

  “Drums,” someone muttered near him. “They’re marching.”

  Vane appeared beside him, gaze fixed on the horizon. “So it begins.”

  Maruzan swallowed hard. “There’s still time to send the boy away.”

  Vane didn’t answer right away. “If he carries what we think he does, nowhere is safe.”

  Maruzan turned sharply toward him. “He’s a child.”

  “He’s more than that,” Vane said quietly. “He has a bond with a dragon artifact. He has unharnessed power.”

  Maruzan didn’t reply. He wanted to argue, to say that Velthur deserved peace, that he’d already seen too much. But deep down, he knew Vane was right. Whatever was inside that strange tooth, whatever power had found its way into the boy’s hands, it wasn’t done with him yet.

  The drums grew louder.

  Ennett returned to the table, her face pale in the morning light. “Scouts report movement along the hills,” she said. “Thousands. Maybe more.”

  Eborin exhaled through his nose, long and slow. “Then this is the day.”

  No one spoke for a moment. They all stood there, listening to the distant beat, the sound of an army moving through mist.

  Finally, Maruzan said, “I’ll take my place at the southern wall. The breach needs eyes.”

  Vane nodded. “Go. And if the boy comes looking for you, send him toward the old sea coast road. If he makes it there, he might still have a chance.”

  Maruzan met his gaze. “You think he’ll go without me?”

  Vane’s mouth tightened. “No. But he’ll try.”

  Maruzan left without another word.

  As he walked toward the southern wall, he looked back once at the city, the towers, the rooftops, the rising smoke from the bakeries that still bothered to light their ovens. Life, pretending to be normal for just a few more minutes.

  He thought of Velthur again, alone in that cave, waiting like he had promised. He prayed the boy would stay put. But part of him already knew better.

  The drums were no longer faint. They rolled through the earth now, steady and unbroken.

  The siege had not yet begun, but the last quiet moments were over.