Patricia`s point of view
The alarm bells were still ringing when I reached the top of the west ramparts, my breath sharp in my chest. No time to think. No time to finish a single thought. Everything moved too fast, too loud, too close.
The moment I stepped onto the stone walkway, the world broke into quick, bright fragments:
A line of warriors tugging on helmets with trembling fingers…
A healer dragging a crate of bandages with her teeth because her hands were full…
A boy, too young, struggling under a bucket of arrows almost bigger than he was…
Sailors from the port sprinting uphill, smelling of salt and rope, their boots slapping wet stone…
Someone shouting names from a list…
Someone else praying under their breath…
Behind me, the sea crashed against the rocks. To my right, down
