Far from the firelight, near the village gates, a woman stumbled forward.
She was tall—muscular, broad-shouldered, her arms wrapped in blood-stained bandages.
Her legs bore strange, glowing curse marks, pulsing faint red beneath torn armor.
A massive axe was strapped to her back, its blade dragging in the dirt.
Her breathing was ragged, her face smudged with dirt and dried blood, but her eyes burned with purpose.
She passed the outer sentries, her steps heavy but unyielding.
One guard stepped forward, startled, his spear raised. "Who the hell are you?"
She didn't answer, her gaze scanning the celebration in the distance, the lanterns and laughter a world away from her grim determination.
"Where is he?" she rasped, her voice low, cracked with exhaustion.
"The healer. The one who was summoned."
Then she collapsed to her knees.
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