The moon bled out, tainting the air red with the blood of enemies and allies.
The battle went on for hours, the Eclipse Pack fought valiantly as one, power uniting. The citadel’s walls, scarred and cracked from hours of relentless assault, stood as the last bastion against the horde. The air reeked of scorched earth, coppery blood, and the acrid tang of dark curses. Bodies littered the ground—rogues twisted in death throes, vampires crumbling to dust, warriors fallen with silver stakes clutched in rigid hands. The gray sisters’ wards flickered, their silver mist thinning under the barrage, one of the sisters—Glarinda—slumped against a turret, her side gashed by a rogue’s claw, blood soaking her robe as her sisters tended her with glowing runes.
Lilith’s breath came in ragged gasps, Liri
