The next morning,
"What's going on?" Dimitri asked as Morgana exited the long silver, windowless weaponry shack that he called home. It had been a bizarre twenty-four hours for all those present.
Just twelve hours earlier, Agatha had died. Overall, she was handling it rather well. Before her last breath had been drawn, her frantic servant had gotten a hold of Morgana and convinced her to save the old witch, but it was to no avail. Lord Achyls had murdered his own mother. Accident or not, it was her who sacrificed her life to save Dimitri and his human soliers. It has been disappointing, to say the least. After the battle, Dimitri had glimpsed a river of dark scarlet blood, limps, and severed heads of dozens of werewolves, witches, humans, and demon vampires laid in the street for the vulture to feast on. It was a battle of epic devastation.
