"He's alive…" Morgana gasped, her voice soft, trembling on the edge of disbelief and awe.
She stared at the count collapsed near the doors, her breath catching as memories of whispered stories echoed in her mind. She had never met the Blood King, but his legend had reached even the marble halls of Silvermoon. Her mother, who rarely paid attention to matters outside their domain, had asked about him more than once.
Every few years, someone would swear he had fallen, and every time, he returned.
There had never been a man like him. Not in any era. Not in any empire.
"People die, and they stay dead," she murmured. "But not him…"
Aaron's hands clenched on the table.
"We have to kill him," he said sharply. "You've heard the accounts. He's a madman. He butchered millions in Everard. He exterminated the noble bloodline of Mormont down to the last child and their guards with them!"
