From the highest window of the citadel tower, a silhouette gazed down at the field of corpses below.
Braavas, the Demon Head, watched the death of his ambitions.
His mismatched eyes swept across the battlefield. The Purgatory Demons, those untamable nightmares that were meant to be unstoppable, lay in mangled heaps across the scorched earth.
Beyond them, the black tide of his garrison forces was similarly broken. And there, at the center of the carnage, the massive corpse of the Demon Commander lay split from chest to crown, its red axe discarded beside it like a child's forgotten toy.
The silence in the tower room was absolute for one trembling moment.
Then Braavas's snout-like jaw unhinged and he roared out of pure frustration. "WHO ARE THESE AWAKENERS?!"
His voice cracked the air. He spun from the window and struck a stone table beside it, shattering it to a dozen pieces.
He punched a giant hole into the war and smashed an innocent statue to bits. "Arrgggh!"
