The first arrow ignited the skies.
It soared above the southern ridge like a serpent wreathed in fire, trailing a streak of crimson light that split the clouds in two. A moment later, a thousand more followed—black-feathered bolts, laced with cursed magic and elemental poison—raining down upon the outer walls of the Vampire Kingdom.
The war had begun.
The battlefield thundered as the ground trembled beneath marching soldiers, warbeasts, and summoned creatures from the corrupted realms. The enemy had come in full force—rogue witches, frenzied werewolves, elemental outcasts, and warlocks bent on chaos. They surged forward like a living storm, their battle cries echoing like funeral bells, a cacophony that even the strongest could feel in their bones.
But the vampires were ready.
Azrael
