The morning cannonade shook the sea spray from the rigging of two hundred and twenty-two warships.
After thirty-two hours of preparation and quiet rest, black iron hulls surged forward in five tight battle lines, slicing through the smoke-choked channel toward the base of Sky-Tether Two. Above them, the iron sky-pillar rose into the overcast heavens like a frozen spear of dark steel, its massive anchor chains humming with dimensional tension.
From the bridge of the vanguard flagship, Sera Thorne rested her black spear against the wooden rail.
“Form line of battle,” Sera shouted over the roar of the wind. “Clear the outer docks before noon.”
Beside her, Mina Vance smoothed her frost-rimmed robes, while Claire Vance held a brass quadrant to her eye, tracking the defensive energy webs crisscrossing the lower towers.
On the left wing, Princess Valeria and Elder Sterling directed the heavy dreadnoughts. Forty captured Censorate warships opened fire with their forward void-cannons, sending streams of azure light crashing into the outer coastal batteries of the tether. Masonry tumbled into the surf, clearing the way for the transport galleons.
Behind the front ranks, Deacon Vane coordinated forty supply cutters, ferrying fresh fire-crystals to the siege mortars. Linnea stood on the deck of the primary hospital cutter, her hands glowing with jade healing light as she treated injured sailors. The entire one-million-strong alliance moved like a single, colossal machine.
