The sky had swallowed the sun. Day turned to night in a breath, and the world trembled under the collapse of the veil. Shadows and fire danced across the broken council grounds, painting everything in violent hues of crimson and ash.
Kael and Azrael faced each other amid the ruin, their blades sparking against the corrupted earth, each strike tearing at reality itself. Arcane pressure bowed the air around them. Azaziel darted between the screaming witches, each spell thrown a burning lash against his armor of smoke.
But beyond the council grounds, the human realm was not yet safe. Through the gaping wound in the veil, hordes of demons poured forth, clawed, winged, and bristling with twisted malice. Their screams were a dirge of war, a warning to all who lived beneath the darkened sun.
