Dare to Call

The air crackled with dark energy as the undead surged forward. Rohzivaan's optical brain blinked with static, the signal from Sirius completely severed.

He cursed under his breath, tapping the device on his wrist. No response. The line was dead, just like the land beneath their feet.

The crimson eye overhead pulsed, casting the battlefield in a sickly, blood-red glow.

Ahcehera struggled to rise, clutching her side where the dark spear had struck. Her ribs throbbed, each breath sharp and shallow.

The general stood at the edge of the crater, his molten eyes watching them with cold amusement.

His army pressed closer, skeletal figures clawing toward them with relentless hunger.

"We need reinforcements," Rohzivaan muttered, voice strained as he hurled another stream of Netherien Fire at the advancing horde.