The blood channels along the altar flared violently, light surging through the carved veins until the obsidian pulsed like a living heart. The sigils stabilized, locking into a completed pattern that hummed with finality. Whatever pact Rosemund had been weaving for years had reached its end.
Luna felt it then.
Not grief first. Not despair.
Rage.
Her staff lifted of its own accord, mana screaming as something deep inside her tore itself open, dragging power from places she had no right to touch. The air warped around her, frost and shadow bleeding together, lightning snapping erratically across the stone.
Rosemund turned, eyes widening just slightly.
"There you are," the vampiress said softly. "I was wondering when you would stop holding back."
Luna did not answer.
She attacked.
"Ael'thara ven lux, thren ruina!"
