Ash City lay ahead—a blackened ruin rising from rivers of fire. The Mirror of Souls pulsed in our hands, drawing the Undead like moths to the flame. Every step toward the gates was a battle for survival.
The succubi led Desmond’s armies—winged horrors with blades of ember and whispers that could rot the mind. Many of our bravest fell beneath their charms, their screams swallowed by the heat.
Yet when the sunless sky turned crimson, we broke through. The succubus queen fell, her ashes carried by the wind. Ash City was ours—but at great cost.
The Mirror now rested within the city’s sanctum, beyond Desmond’s reach. The Void could no longer summon its hordes.
Ahead waited the Fire Castle—and the final reckoning.
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