And standing over the body of the fallen "Vampire Lord", which was now dissolving into a shimmering illusion, was a hulking, black-armored figure.
The real Ragnar Vhagar.
His trap had not just been for my army.
It had been for her.
The ruse was revealed. The hunter had become the hunted.
And my last, desperate hope was now caught, alone, in the center of the enemy's web.
The world, which had been a blinding, searing white, slowly bled back into shades of gray and brown.
I blinked, spots dancing in my vision.
The flash had been absolute.
It was not a spell.
It was a device.
A cruel, brilliant, and utterly unexpected trap.
My mind, which had been soaring on the glorious wings of victory, came crashing back to the hard, dusty earth.
I looked towards the battlefield.
My beautiful, perfect trap for the Vampire Lord had been turned inside out.
And at its center was my most precious asset.
My Umbra.
