In the heart of a shattered citadel draped in midnight roses and poisoned vines, Vlad stood atop his obsidian balcony, staring into the storm-churned sky. The night trembled as if the stars themselves recoiled from what was to come. Though no moon dared rise, the air was thick with anticipation.
Beneath him, his legions stirred—row upon row of soldiers cloaked in veils of darkness and fear, humanoid wraiths and arcane-born hunters who had survived countless wars by learning to cheat death. The ground trembled as beasts slithered, stalked, or clawed their way into formation. The air buzzed with ancient curses reawakened and rituals long forbidden.
His generals stood in a crescent before him—each one hand-picked, each one bound to him by oath or blood. Shadows coiled at their feet, eager t
