The silence of night was not peaceful. Smoke still swirled in the air, blood glistened in the cracks between the stones, and the walls still echoed with the pulse of battle.
But the fight was over.
And the dead remained.
Elara stood before the throne hall. She had changed clothes-her body now clad in a deep burgundy, simple vampire mourning gown, with a black cloth billowing from her shoulder in the dawn wind. Her hair fell loose, and beneath her eyes lingered the shadows of exhaustion... but also unwavering resolve.
Behind her stood the others: Kael, a fresh wound across his face; Selene, whose hands still faintly burned from magical overuse; and Thyra, her shoulder bandaged, but her movements still disciplined. Dareth leaned against a shaded pillar, pale and still weakened from his w
