The afternoon sun hung low and bronze above the jagged volcanic peaks of Caldera, casting long, stark shadows across the blood-soaked stones of the Devil's Throat. Beneath the high basalt archway, the elite lancers of the Silver Vanguard had established an impenetrable perimeter. Sixty star-metal ballistas stood mounted on the high ledges, their silver-tipped bolts aimed toward the southern plains where Malakor's grand host had halted their advance, hesitant to…
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