The air in Blackscale Grove crackled with tension. The ground was littered with the corpses of beasts they had fought for hours, yet still, more were coming. The once-quiet night now roared with the sounds of approaching monsters.
Their howls filled the air, echoing ominously through the dense, twisted forest.
Pyris stood with Alera at his side, both of them bloodied and exhausted. But there was no time for rest. The beasts of Blackscale were relentless, their corruption warping them into mindless, bloodthirsty creatures.
Alera felt the weight of her shadows coiling beneath her skin, whispering promises of untapped power. She had tasted something new in the last fight, something dark and intoxicating—the power to control death itself.
Her newfound necromancer ability allowed her to command the beasts she and Pyris had slain, but she hadn't yet fully mastered it. Now, with more enemies closing in, she was about to be pushed to her limits.
