The grand hall of the Moonshade Blood Tower remained crowded, thick with the scent of iron and incense, the air heavy with pride and suspicion.
Tall pillars carved from dark stone stretched toward a ceiling painted with scenes of ancient victories.
Crimson banners hung between them, each embroidered with the Moonshade crest, a crescent blade cutting through a rising tide of blood. Candles burned in silver holders, their flames steady yet casting long shadows that danced across the polished floor.
Cain stepped inside quietly, though the sound of his boots still echoed faintly. His eyes moved at once, scanning the room with sharp focus.
He already understood what he was seeing.
The pure blood nobles stood gathered near the center, their robes rich and detailed, their expressions guarded. Those sent outside to subdue the chaos were the halfling nobles, the blood soldiers, the blood servants, and the blood slaves.
