Lucien was in the middle of leading his clan through what was supposed to be their final feast when a strange feeling crept over him. He paused mid-bite, eyes narrowing as he glanced around the grand hall.
"Where's the steward? Why isn't he back yet?"
"Yeah, weird…" one of the others muttered, equally puzzled. They were all waiting for him to return with the rewards—after devouring the flesh, they'd each consume a crystal core. The perfect ending to a perfect night.
"You think he got lost?"
"Don't be stupid. How do you get lost in your own damn house? He's the steward."
"Oh… right."
"..."
Just then, a commotion erupted downstairs. The head servant, an elderly man, came rushing in, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
"My Lord! Something's wrong! The cold storage—everything's gone! The offerings, all of them! And the guards… they're all dead. I just walked in and—bodies everywhere!"
