It lifts the glaive higher, the blood on its armor steaming in the air.
"A benevolent king," it says, voice rising, "who gives freely to those who believe! Who arms even the lowest among us with strength to stand against your cruelty."
"Cruelty?" Velira's voice sharpens.
She draws back her bow.
"I've seen your kind tear through villages where no soldiers stood. I've seen mothers buried under their homes, their children butchered for sport. You call that justice?"
The monster's eyes burn with intensity. "They are savage beasts. The ones who serve my king… are something else entirely."
Velira exhales once, calm and centered.
"Then let's see if your king's favor is enough to keep you alive."
THWIP.
The next arrow looses—silent, blinding, sharper than thought. The moment it leaves the string, the sky howls, and the air bends around its path.
While Velira duels through storm and fire, and Gresren leads the charge through the breach, Solven's blade dances in the dark.
