Dawn broke over Nocture with a mist thinner than usual, as if the dead land itself was drawing a relieved breath after a night filled with screams. The bonfires outside the gate had died out, leaving only black ash and collapsed tents. The raging crowd of refugees from the previous night had now retreated far into the open plains, abandoning dozens of corpses pierced by crystal spears or torn apart by lycanthrope claws. Elite zombies calmly cleaned up the remains, burning the bodies in crystal pits dug by the dwarves overnight. The smell of charred flesh mingled with the ever-present scent of black mushrooms that always enveloped the city.
Sylvia stood on the castle balcony, the Chain of Abyss coiled loosely around her wrist like a sleeping snake. Sofia was beside her, her golden hair gently fluttering in the cold morning breeze. The two of them watched the now-quiet gate, accompanied only by Velthya's low growls as she ordered her clan back to patrol positions.
