Cassian shuddered as the cannonball crashed through the castle wall, erupting the hundred-year-old stonework into shards across the tower. Screams of trapped men melted beneath the battle cries. He hugged himself against the wall, bracing for another impact. In a moment of peace, he glanced down the winding stairwell to his comrades. Ash and a reaper had smothered their cries. One soldier pulled himself from the ruins and attempted to limp away, only to receive a warning strike from an arrow.

Cassian scaled the remaining tower wall. Gripping the crossbow, he crawled to the edge and peered over. Soldiers, like ants, were piling through the opening in the wall. The opposition readied the catapults for further assault. From such a distance, he knew he would never reach a worthy opponent, but desperation forced his hand to pluck the last arrow from the quiver. He rose and stood behind the wall, placing his foot on the stirrup, and pulled the bow back, positioning the arrow in the centre. He crouched down and peaked around the wall. The crash of another cannonball erupted from the castle; ash and flames scourged soldiers and crushed fortifications. The cries and commands died away from his mind as he concentrated on his assault. Within seconds, the arrow sped through the stones, breached the soldiers, and pierced the commander of the catapult. A dozen arrows whizzed past Cassian. He crawled behind the wall, dabbing his forehead.

The tower quaked. The shudder of a third cannonball erupted the tower's strength. In a horrid shake and groan, the walls fell.