The crimson moon arched across the night sky.
It gradually dipped below the horizon, slowly, steadily. As the final rays of red receded from the heavenly canvas, the mysterious mist began to creep in from the edges of the battlefield.
Genevieve and Valerian heard the sound of battle gradually subside above ground. Their conversation halted, and they slipped into silence.
Exactly three days have passed, and he's still not back, she thought to herself.
Suddenly, Valerian sprang onto all fours. Before Genevieve could ask what was wrong, he dashed toward the sloped entrance and came to an abrupt halt. His topaz eyes remained fixed on the passage above, waiting with rapt attention.
Could it be…
Genevieve followed behind almost immediately.
Meanwhile, in the corner of the chamber, Darren's hand reached for the spiked mace that lay beside him. He gripped the handle and slowly rose to his feet. A scowl appeared on his face as he looked toward the entrance.
