The blood moon hung heavy above, bleeding light into the battlefield.
Leah's body ached, her blade trembling in her hand, but she refused to let it fall.
From the darkness, whispers began to stir—dozens of voices speaking at once. They weren't human, nor beast, but something older, something that had watched the world rot from within.
"Do you hear them?" the beast asked, its eyes glowing with hunger.
"They are the voices of those who perished by the curse… and tonight, they call your name."
Leah's breath hitched. The whispers grew louder, wrapping around her mind like chains. She felt herself drowning in sorrow that wasn't hers, pain that didn't belong to her.
"No…" she gritted her teeth, forcing her feet to stand firm. "I won't… give in."
The beast chuckled, spreading its wings. Shadows writhed around its body, forming shapes of twisted figures—hands reaching, mouths screaming, eyes empty.
The ground split open, revealing a chasm of endless dark. From it surged the shadows of the fallen, clawing their way into the world once more.
Leah's blade glowed, faint but steady, as she whispered to herself:
"If this is destiny… then let my light cut through it."
The whispers screamed in unison, the beast roared, and the clash of light and shadow thundered beneath the crimson sky.