While the drums of war heated across the demon continent, Damon stood in a tomb before a massive stone door veined with ancient runes.
He glanced at Lilith beside him.
Bruises mottled her skin. Scratches cut across her arms. Blood slid down her fingers and dripped lazily onto the floor.
A sigh of frustration escaped her as she closed her eyes.
"Well… that was a disaster."
Her voice was cold, but the tightness in it betrayed how much this failure weighed on her.
Damon studied the door in front of them, its surface scarred from the recent battle, then let out a slow breath.
"I guess Lazarak didn't hold back with this place's guardian. I suppose my plan didn't work."
Lilith limped to the side and sank onto a short flight of stone steps. She pulled a potion from her pouch with trembling fingers, uncorked it with her teeth, and drank.
Damon understood her frustration.
