No Mercy

The Divine Snake Cult lacked numbers, but what they did possess was the element of surprise—and, more importantly, the Iron Hearts had no way of gauging their strength.

The plan was simple.

After Roof took the main camp from Lord Raven, he would double back with the rest of the Cult to help Aziz take down Crow. Precision over brute force. It was all about timing.

"If it all goes according to plan, Master," Mal hissed, his voice quiet and steady, "the Iron Hearts will fall by tomorrow night."

Aziz nodded, his sharp eyes fixed on the camp ahead.

They were perched high in the canopy of one of the tallest trees, hidden by the thick foliage, their vantage point offering an unbroken view of the bustling encampment. Soldiers patrolled the walls, their movements precise and coordinated.

Crow had whipped them into shape, no doubt. The palisades were higher, the watchtowers sturdier. This was not going to be an easy fight.