Deep within the ruins of the old world, far beyond the reach of sunlight, the Reclaimer stood before his new army. The failed attempt to hold Aurora had left him scarred—his armor cracked, his pride wounded. But his fury burned brighter than ever.
"The child has awakened," he growled to the council of cloaked figures that knelt before him. "And the traitor Lyra has failed."
"She gave us the child," one of them whispered. "She did as we asked."
"And still, the child was taken," the Reclaimer snarled. "By a girl and her broken family."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber.
"We underestimated them," said another figure.
"No," the Reclaimer corrected. "I underestimated her."
He raised his hand toward the dark map carved into the stone wall. A glowing mark pulsed over their enemy's camp—Aurora's light had left a trace.
"I want that girl brought to me," he commanded. "Alive. Her blood carries the power of the old world... and with it, I will burn their future."
He stepped down from the altar, shadows coiling around him like living smoke.
"We attack at dawn."