Book 17 - Devouring the Sun
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Crimson banners snapped in hurricane winds as the Scarlet Crusade advanced across the central plain of the vast Bloodmar Continent. Their armies were forged of dragons that followed the guidance of the Sacred Dragon Empress Tiamat and saitnesess that followed the teachings of the Three Moons.
The opposition moved in living tides of ivory skin and midnight armor—vampiric legions whose very footsteps bled scarlet mist across the trampled soil. Intermixed with them were werewolf troops, each lupine behemoth massing a dozen tons, corded with raw sinew and adorned in moon-forged iron.
Over their heads burned twin celestial glyphs: a blood-red moon for the vampires, a silver hunting moon for the lycans. Those lunar crowns were not symbols but conduits—open throats through which their patron gods poured strength, reflex, and endless rage.
It was not merely a battle; it was a continental cataclysm. Tens of millions fought from horizon to horizon.
