The night exploded in fire and fangs.
Steel clashed against claws as screams tore through the cold air. Smoke curled above the treetops while orange sparks lit the darkness like fireflies. In the heart of Blackpine Forest, chaos reigned.
A wolf tackled a soldier to the ground, jaws crushing bone. Another leapt through a wall of flame, landing beside a pale figure cloaked in black — a vampire. The two predators circled, low and tense, muscles coiled.
"Hold the line!" shouted a human voice.
Captain Elira Stormborn swung her blade with both hands, slicing a vampire clean across the chest. It hissed, recoiling, but didn't fall.
"Silver!" she yelled. "Only silver kills them!"
From behind her, a wolf—twice the size of a normal one—lunged, ripping the vampire apart with a snarl of fury. Blood sprayed the snow-covered ground, steaming.
Elira turned to the beast. Its fur was dark gray, its eyes gleaming with intelligence. "Thanks for the assist."
The wolf didn't respond, but it didn't need to. They had fought side by side for months now, bound by a fragile alliance: humans, wolves, and the last free clans standing against the Nightborne Court.
"More incoming!" someone shouted from the ridge.
Through the trees came a wave of movement—shadows too fast to be mortal. At least a dozen vampires streaked toward them, their eyes glowing crimson, fangs glinting in the firelight.
"Hold the line!" Elira repeated. "We fall here, the village dies with us!"
The wolves howled—one long, haunting cry that echoed into the heavens. They surged forward, meeting the vampires head-on in a blur of tooth and fang.
Elira fought beside them, sword flashing, cutting through undead flesh. She ducked a claw, spun, and drove her blade through a vampire's throat. It shrieked, disintegrating into ash.
To her right, a young boy fought with reckless speed. Barely sixteen, Dain was a hunter's son, quick on his feet and deadly with his twin daggers. A vampire lunged for him, but he rolled beneath its strike and buried both blades in its chest.
"Kid's got guts," Elira muttered.
But then the sky darkened, and silence fell across the battlefield.
Every creature—man, wolf, vampire—froze.
From the forest's edge, a new figure appeared. Tall, draped in flowing black robes, her silver hair catching the moonlight like a blade. The air grew colder just from her presence.
"Lilith," Elira whispered.
The Vampire Queen.
She raised one hand. The undead stopped fighting. The wolves growled.
"You struggle so bravely," Lilith said softly, voice echoing unnaturally. "But you were always meant to kneel."
"We don't kneel," Elira spat. "Not to monsters."
Lilith smiled, sharp and cruel. "Then you die screaming."
With a flick of her wrist, shadows erupted from the trees—dozens of vampires, summoned by her call.
Elira raised her sword again. "Wolves! Warriors! We fight until the last breath!"
The pack howled in unison, and once again the forest became a battlefield of blood, silver, and fire.
And so the first night of war truly began.