The clouds above Blackmoor twisted unnaturally, turning from gray to a deep, violet-black hue. The blood moon hung low, larger than ever before, bathing the land in a haunting red glow that turned rivers into veins and shadows into monsters. But tonight, the moon pulsed with an irregular rhythm, as if something vast and ancient was stirring in its depths.
Inside the highest spire of Lucien's estate, the command chamber buzzed with unrest. Ancient artifacts lined the walls—relics from civilizations that had worshipped him as a god, now trembling with resonant energy as their master's true nature awakened.
Seraphina, the Blood Witch, stood at the edge of a rune-etched balcony, her midnight cloak fluttering behind her. Her pupils had narrowed to slits—signs that her ancient lineage was awakening. The crimson tattoos across her throat began to glow, responding to something in the air that mortal senses couldn't detect.
