Elizabeth sensed the tremor long before the Crusaders even suspected that something was approaching.
She had received the reports only a few hours earlier. The armed host assembled by the temples. The infantry legions. The Heroes commanding the vanguard. And burned into the minds of mortals, the divine sentence: Lusian Douglas must die.
She remained motionless upon the dais as she finished scanning the lines of the latest parchment. For several seconds, she felt nothing; the icy emptiness completely enveloped her.
Then her fingers began to tremble. Not with fear... but with a pure, ancient, restrained rage.
For centuries, she had done nothing more than obey the design of the heavens. She had awakened when the gods called upon her, devastated kingdoms when humanity needed a common enemy, and perished when the chosen warriors arrived to fulfill their role in the prophecy. Always the same unchanging cycle: a sovereign, an abomination, an instrument of war, a sacrifice upon the altar of fate.
Yet this time, the structure of her existence had been shattered. This time, she retained her memories.
She remembered Lusian. The timbre of his voice, the firmness of his hands, and above all, the way he had looked at her when the rest of the world could see nothing but a beast.
For the first time in her eternity, a conviction took root within her without any deity having commanded it: find him.
Elizabeth released the report, letting it fall onto the wooden table.
—They are not going to take his life from him —she murmured with absolute coldness.
She rose to her feet. Within moments, the palace chambers were already behind her.
She needed neither the approval of the heavens, nor the blessings of the high priests, nor a destiny written by someone else's hands. She required only one thing: to reach his domain before the Crusade closed its net.
When Elizabeth reached the outskirts of the duchy, the Crusade had already established an immense camp across the outer plains.
Sixty-five thousand men occupied the land as far as the eye could see: endless rows of tents, supply depots, warhorse corrals, banners from dozens of kingdoms, and circles of prayer where priests blessed the weapons for the next offensive.
Thirty thousand had already died, devoured by the Eternal Night.
Elizabeth observed the mass from the edge of the forest. She felt neither fear nor excitement; only impatience. She could exterminate them all. She would not need a prolonged battle, an army, or even her most destructive arts. If she unleashed her power without restraint, the entire plain would become a charnel ground before the priests even understood what had struck them.
But she had not come there to fight. She had come to find Lusian.
She closed her eyes and allowed a fraction of her mana to seep between the roots. It was not an explosion, but a summons: a dark pulse that traveled through the earth and penetrated deep into the forest.
Then the forest awakened.
Yellow irises emerged from the undergrowth; claws scraped against the earth, and fangs appeared behind the shadows. Ancient creatures abandoned their lairs and gathered around the pale-haired woman.
The lesser specimens submitted instantly; the more powerful ones resisted stubbornly. Elizabeth sensed their will and immediately withdrew the pressure. She had no need to subjugate the strong; she only needed a distraction.
She opened her eyes.
—Attack.
The forest roared as a savage stampede erupted directly into the camp.
—MONSTERS!
The sentries barely had time to react. Horses reared, tents collapsed, and soldiers rushed for their weapons while clerics chanted prayers in panic. Chaos spread with devastating speed.
But the creatures were not the real danger.
While the troops ran in every direction, a woman walked leisurely through the flames. Arrows fired at her veered away in midair; arcane projectiles disintegrated as they approached. When a group of knights attempted to block her path, Elizabeth did not even stop. She raised one hand, and a wave of darkness shattered their shields, sending the men flying through the air. The path was clear.
A cleric saw her advancing through the devastation. The demonic pressure was so overwhelming that it stole the breath from his lungs. He instinctively fell to his knees, consumed by terror, while someone in the distance shouted:
—It's a demon!
Several hundred yards away, Emily suddenly raised her head. She had sensed that fluctuation: ancient, dense, terrifyingly familiar. Elizabeth's name flashed through her mind like lightning, leaving a cold shiver in its wake.
Elizabeth continued through the enemy ranks. She could have exterminated them all, but the gods, the Crusade, and the sixty-five thousand soldiers were irrelevant to her. There was only one person who mattered.
When she reached the far edge of the camp, she fixed her eyes upon the immense wall of darkness guarding Douglas territory. A faint smile curved her lips for the first time.
—Lusian... wait for me.
She stepped forward and dissolved into the Eternal Night, leaving behind a defeated army that had survived only because she had not come there to kill.