Brandon stood at his window, hands braced against the frame, staring out at the demon realm's twisted landscape.
He wasn't seeing it.
Instead, he saw fire.
The border fortress, one of Lilith's smaller outposts was completely engulfed. Demons scattered. Bodies lying in pools of blood that steamed in the cold air. And standing in the center of the devastation, casually wiping essence from his blade was...
Malachai Drakenmoor.
It wasn't an attack or an invasion. Just a demonstration.
A message delivered in corpses and ash: "I know they're here. I know you're protecting them. Hand over the Ancient House survivors, or this is just the beginning."
Brandon's hands clenched on the window frame hard enough that wood cracked beneath his grip.
Lilith had shown him the memory through viewing crystal.
