The Blood Moon Season Was Over

The air was still cold, but the bloody weight smothering their lungs suddenly eased.

The stretches of stone wall on the front line that had been steeped in dark red light began to lose their color at the edges. Then, block by block, their original gray-white slowly emerged.

The Sacred Flame Domain was no longer pinned near the foot of the wall as it had been in recent days. Its ring of white-gold fire pushed outward, little by little.

The sentry at the very front saw it first.

He stood on the watchtower, his frost-reddened hand still resting on the edge of its frame, his eyes fixed on the horizon without blinking.

At first, he did not dare speak. He thought he had been awake too long and was seeing things.

But the dark red layer over the Gray Fog really was retreating.

His throat worked. When he finally shouted, his voice came out hoarse.

"It's retreating—!"

The cry flew out and hung alone in the wind.

Still unable to believe it himself, he hurriedly wiped his face. He stared at the Sacred Flame Domain as it spread outward inch by inch, drew a sharp breath of cold air, and roared again at the top of his lungs.

"The Blood Moon is retreating!"

The people below froze for a moment.

The sentry on the second watchtower raised his head too. After a few looks, he went rigid, then joined the shouting.

A third, a fourth, a fifth—

The cries traveled down the entire defensive line like stones striking frozen water one after another, scattered at first, then coming faster and faster.

Only then did everyone belatedly realize that the heavy pressure in their chests was slowly lifting.

The faint hum in their ears faded as well, and the restless agitation