The first blast hit before dawn.
The sound was not thunder. It was the world cracking open.
Stone shattered. Towers split in half. The banners of Bloodfang caught fire before they even hit the ground. Wolves screamed not from fear, but from the way the air itself burned their lungs. Crimson fire tore across the fortress walls, painting the sky like spilled blood.
The Blood Moon was no longer hanging still. It was falling. It slid across the heavens, burning through clouds like a dying god plummeting to earth.
And at the center of the chaos stood Liora.
No crown. No throne. No hesitation. Just her and the storm.
The ground cracked beneath her bare feet. Sparks crawled up her skin like living things. Every breath she took ignited the air, every blink released a small flare that hovered and died in the wind.
She looked half goddess, half monster and entirely untouchable.
Kael was the first to charge.
