Adaira, of the Blood Moon

[Asztal]

Once upon a time, there was the moon. The moon was lonely.


It whispered to the night. 
It called out to blood. 
It waited.
And we answered.

---

There was a time when the name Adaira carried weight, 
when the Blood Moon rose and kingdoms shuddered beneath its glow. 
They said we were gone. Extinct. 
A name spoken only in half-remembered warnings and old war songs.
But they were wrong.
Lucienne Adaira walks again beneath the crimson sky. 
Not batkin, no — not what we were. 
What we are... is something else. 
Something sharper. Stronger. Hungrier.



We still worship the End. 
We still bow to Death Herself.
But necromancers — the carrion-feeders, 
those who defile what should be beautifully still — 
They will know what it is to be hunted.
The moon is no longer lonely.
We have returned.


— The Blood Moon rises once more —