Roxanne hovered just above the two Aerthysian fleets, her shadow passing over the decks, waiting, watching. One by one, people emerged from the ships—sailors, soldiers, and civilians—faces lifted skyward in confusion and awe as they took in the sight of her demon wings spread wide against the sky. Murmurs rippled through the fleets, fear mixing with fragile hope.
As they watched the horizon, the distant silhouettes of ships cutting across the sea came into clearer view. The banners were unmistakable, Aerthysian sails fleeing in disarray, pursued relentlessly by massive Calonian vessels.
Even from this distance, the difference in scale was horrifying. The Calonian ships loomed larger and heavier, built for conquest rather than travel. The faces of the Aerthysians aboard the ships under them drained of color. Fear spread like wildfire.
A sudden blur of motion drew Roxanne's attention.
