Sister of War

The sound cut through the silence like a blade, a howl so fierce and potent that it jolted Redrum from the battle he was currently engaged in. A lone male had answered his call, but the fight had been deeply dissatisfying, a dull encounter with none of the thrill he'd sought. His ears pinned back, twitching with recognition as the voice echoed in the distance, resonant and unmistakable. Enyo.

A flicker of hunger flashed in his eyes, and in a swift, unrestrained motion, Redrum snapped at his opponent’s throat, his jaws clamping down with brutal force. He held the smaller brute until the resistance faded, the body going slack beneath him—not dead, but left in a bruised, bloody, unconscious heap. There was no need for the kill; his attention had already shifted to the voice that hung in the air, laced with a promise of further bloodshed.

Without hesitation, Redrum began to move, a sauntering, tense stride as he followed the call. The path to the Boneyard was laden with the evidence of past battles, but none held his attention in this moment. The scent of old blood, blending with the metallic tang still lingering on his tongue, welcomed him.

And there she was. Bathed in a glow of crimson light, Enyo stood like a force of nature. Armor shed to the ground, her weaponry cast aside it seemed—a declaration that she needed nothing but herself to conquer. This he understood, he had done the same when an opponent faced him with nothing but their teeth and claws. Redrum halted at the edge of the clearing, a silent watcher in the periphery of the gathering, though his red coat was unmistakable. His gaze burned with an intensity that bordered on reverence, his breathing steady as he took in the sight before him. The dark urge within him stirred, twisting and coiling like a serpent, but he held back, noticing her kin to gather in support, though his focus remained solely on her, captivated by the sight of Enyo stripped bare, ready to stake her claim through flesh and fury alone.

Slowly, the crimson brute advanced, positioning himself on the outskirts of her supporters, though keeping his distance. He wanted her to know he was there, his consuming gaze locked onto her with a mix of subtle admiration and something darker, something hungry. Settling in, he readied himself for the inevitable clash, his senses alert, his pulse thrumming with anticipation. This, he knew, was a battle worth watching, one that would leave scars on the earth itself. The grin that cut across his face was one of a deeply unsettling nature, but it was the best show of amusement the brute could manage between his twitching jaw and bloody lips.


"Murder"