Far away from the ruins of Kizan, a sinister black shadow began to take form, coalescing into the figure of a woman. Her pale white hair cascaded down her frail shoulders, contrasting sharply with her deeply wrinkled skin, which bore the marks of age and torment. She staggered forward, each breath a struggle as she coughed violently, expelling huge amounts of crimson blood that splattered onto the ground beneath her.
If August had been there, he would have recognized her immediately—the once-vibrant Purple Crow Sorceress, now reduced to a mere shadow of her former self. Fury coursed through her veins, igniting the remnants of her once-potent power. Her lifeforce was nearly drained, and she was on the brink of collapse. She had been sent on a critical mission by her master, along with her acolytes, to ensure that their nefarious plans remained unimpeded.
But she had failed, and the weight of that failure bore down on her like a crushing weight.
