"We're losing soldiers!"
An Acolyte burst through the treeline, panting hard as he reached the clearing where Commander Dante stood.
Dante's gaze snapped upward, just in time to see the great winged beast crash down, its body torn apart mid-air by a serpent of flame that coiled and exploded like a vengeful spirit.
The sky itself seemed to shudder.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
They were supposed to catch the academy off guard. Yet every step, every move they made, was being countered, like someone had written the battle before it even began.
His jaw tightened. There's a mole. There had to be. No other way they could be this ready.
"Forget it!" he snarled. "Send out Kerberus. Now."
The men behind him moved instantly, stepping into formation. Three figures with heavy cloaks raised their staffs—each one different, topped with strange ornaments that pulsed with dark light.
Dante turned. "What about the Wardens?"
