Balthasar was correct in his assessment. Zane had traveled to New York, skirting across the Atlantic at sustained hypersonic speed, as barriers like the Sea no longer impeded his travel.
And with him, Zane brought an army of the dead the size of the world's lost population. His expression was void of basic emotion, yet his eyes were aflame. For too long, he had been on this quest for power, and soon it would come to an end.
However, when Zane arrived at the seat of Damian's power, he found that there was nothing to fight. Every single undead in Damian's horde had been moved elsewhere. And Zane had no clue where they would have relocated to.
Well, that was not entirely true… There was one letter left behind, stained in the blood of what was presumed to be a living human being. The letters were still freshly dripping from the page, as the sanguine substance spelled the words.
