CHAPTER 90
A Century Ago
The allied armies massed in the lowland staging fields, white tents rising like teeth across the plain. The air was thick with tension.
The Vrykolakas made no move, but everyone felt it. The final battle was coming. Nature held her breath in anticipation of what was coming. The final victor will be decided soon.
Marcus returned before dawn.
The sky was still dark, bruised purple, and cold with pre-storm air. Smoke from the outer watch-fires curled upward in thin spirals, quiet and undisturbed. The war camp slept with one eye open, as it always did. Alert and ready for battle.
However, no one noticed the shadow of a man who slipped back through the perimeter with mud-stained boots and a shadowed look in his hollow eyes.
No one asked why his cloak was torn
