THE ARTIFACT NETWORK

Dawn painted the Western Marshlands in hues of sickly amber and blood-red, the sun struggling to penetrate the unnatural mist that had settled over Reed's compound since Princess Elysandra's arrival. The battle had raged through the night—a chaotic symphony of screams, spell-fire, and the wet, distinctive sounds of blades carving through corrupted flesh.

Now, eerie silence blanketed the fortress. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn across the courtyard and surrounding buildings, their faces frozen in expressions of horror or ecstasy depending on which side they had fought for. Black ichor mingled with crimson blood, creating elaborate patterns on the cobblestones that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of one's eye.