MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
The train roared through the Carpathian night, a silver needle piercing the heart of a frozen wilderness. Inside the carriage of the Vanguard Express, the air was thick with the copper tang of blood and the heavy, electric scent of the Sovereign’s lingering wrath. We had left the burning ruins of L’Eclissi behind, but the shadows of the old world were long, and they were hungry.