The vampire's pale eyes swept the room—Lilith crouched in the shadows, Viks with her silver blade raised, the bodies cooling on the floor. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Enough of this."
She raised both hands, and the blood that had been pooling, spattered, scattered across the storehouse answered her call. It rose from the floor, from the walls, from the cracks between the stones. It rose from Dale's remains, from the guard's throat, from the shallow wound on her own arm. All of it spiraled upward, coalescing into a single mass that hung above her like a waiting storm.
"Blood Dominion."
The word was soft, almost a whisper. The effect was not.
The blood exploded outward—a wall of crimson that swallowed the room whole. It slammed into the walls, the floor, the ceiling, drowning torchlight and shadow alike in a single, suffocating tide.
