The night sky had turned ominous, cloaked by the thick curtain of Claude's mist that bled out of the East Tower like spilled ink. The air was dense, almost too heavy to breathe, humming with invisible tension.
Claude stood in the center of the chaos, calm amidst the roaring storm of magic. His gloved hand extended, threads of mist trailing from his fingertips like living tendrils.
He moved with unsettling grace, as if dancing through the battlefield, while his eyes glinted with a predator's precision. Within his mist, only one person's silhouette remained standing.
"Lexie. More enemies are coming. Send a signal to Etienne," he commanded when, beyond the mist he created, another wave of knights approached.
"On it." Lexie summoned a bow and arrow in an instant and shot the arrow through the window. There was no time to be respectful to the dead, for their lives were at stake.
