Seraphine stood at the center of the battlefield, her crimson robes swaying gently despite the chaos surrounding her. Her sharp eyes swept across the capital as screams echoed through every street, smoke rising into the evening sky until it covered the city like a dark blanket. The smell of blood had become so thick that even the wind carried it.
She had been observing the battle from the moment it began.
At first, everything had gone exactly according to plan. The witches had struck from the shadows while Adrian's supporters created enough confusion to keep the Lycan soldiers occupied. Citizens fled in every direction, unable to distinguish friend from foe, and within a short time the capital had descended into complete disorder.
But then… Lord Vealor had taken command.
Seraphine's smile slowly disappeared.
