The retreat became a rout the moment Brandon's wings caught the wind.
He didn't fly so much as launch himself between engagements, closing distances that should have taken hours in seconds, lightning and claw cutting through vampire soldiers who'd stopped believing retreat would save them.
Behind him, Lilith and Mordax pushed through what remained of Malachai's rearguard with the grim efficiency of commanders who understood exactly what kind of opening had just been handed to them.
They didn't stop at the border. Didn't slow at the outer settlements. The remaining demon soldiers who'd stayed loyal cut a path straight toward the vampire capital itself, through gates that had stood unbreached for three centuries, past defenders who'd never imagined needing to hold this line.
