One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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The rebel strike at Jer has forced our advance upon Telga to a halt. The supply lines must be rebuilt and re-secured before moving onward. Is this entire kingdom nothing but traitors? Where do these rebels keep coming from? How can there be so many? The harder we crush them, the greater their numbers seem to become. Do they not realize they are only delaying the inevitable? Even so, I fear it will take us until winter to recover, and with the end of the year approaching, it may not be until spring that we can resume our progress.
Journal of Cassandra Nightwing
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Blood once more pooled in the basin carved out in the crystal tomb. Hovering above the cursed child enduring her eternal slumber, Lars fed the reservoir with a stream of the life-giving fluid from the fresh cut on his arm. With gradual ease, the crimson flow proceeded down to the girl's peaceful lips.
The habit of the ritual was particularly sour for him as it reminded the Blood Lord of his own, and deeply personal, failings. "I am not happy to have learned of your failure."
"I did not fail." The fallen angel rebuked the Blood Lord's assertion of what had transpired between her and the cleric.
Waiting off in the shadows of the burial chambers, hood drawn up over her face and concealing it in further darkness, Noranda attempted without success to massage away the pain lingering throughout her arm. The skin was raw and red, rippled with blisters, the end result of her holding tight to the cleric's holy blade and snuffing it out. At the time, she had felt confident there would be no enduring damage from the burning flames. But now, she feared the effects would be longer lasting, if not more permanent. She might be long-lived, but even with access to unnatural forces others could not fathom, she was still mortal. Not at all as she had once been.
Lars removed his arm and the source of the sustenance, turning his blue eyes tinted blood red to confront the fallen angel. He was not about to so easily accept her version of events that had now passed into history. "Show me your face."
"I don't—"
"Show me!" The authority behind his voice was not to be mistaken as a trifling request.
