The bloody letter

In the dimly lit room, the soft glow of a single candle illuminated Zyra's face. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed in concentration. Opposite her, Marcus watched intently, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. The air around them hummed with a faint energy as Zyra began to channel her magic.

Zyra opened her eyes, revealing a deep, intense focus. She reached out to the small table beside her, picking up a pristine piece of parchment. With a wave of her hand, the quill on the table lifted into the air, suspended by her magic. The quill dipped itself into a vial of dark red ink—no, not ink, but blood. The essence of the message had to carry the weight of her fury and determination.

Marcus leaned forward, his voice low and steady. "Are you sure about this, love? This message... it's a bold move."

Zyra's gaze never wavered as she met his eyes. "Cade and his mother need to understand that we're not afraid. They need to know that we're coming for them, and we won't