Cult of the Crescent Curse
Senika said at last, his voice quieter now… but far more dangerous.
“She is still coming.”
A slow, cold dread pooled in the pit of the cloaked figure’s stomach.
Behind him, the moonstone flickered.
“Even weakened,” Senika continued, gazing out over the dead lands, “the Crescent warriors continue to present the biggest threat in this war.”
His fingers curled slightly against the balcony rail.
“My men have created lore. Rumors.” A faint, cruel smile touched his cracked lips. “Stories that they have been given… special powers.”
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