The night at Castrum Belli et Ignis had been a harmonious blend of elegance and strategy until chaos shattered its serene facade. Moments before the explosion and the crumbling of the ceiling, the atmosphere had been charged—not with fear, but with intrigue and danger lurking beneath the surface.
David's dance with the Archon had captivated the room, their steps weaving a narrative of power and subtle seduction. The music, the laughter, and the clinking of goblets had masked the impending storm.
Far from the grandeur of the ballroom, along the jagged shores of Lysora County, the sea stirred with an unnatural fury. The once-calm waters churned as though in agony, waves clawing at the coastline. Then, with a guttural roar that silenced the whispers of the wind, hordes of Dunemauls emerged. These monstrous beings, born of sand and darkness, rose from the surf with predatory purpose.
