Lucien
Men charged. And died accordingly.
Some beheld me and ran. Many didn't. I took no small pain in sending them off to their vain bitch of a goddess, screaming. Splinters. Clumps of broken ice. Dust. The castle was covered in snow-flaked blood, so much of it, I knew there would be no cleansing it. And death sang to me like an old lover, stuck as it had been to me since the first time I fought and killed as a lad.
And where I went, the bodies fell. Or knees bent. Either way, it was a predictable outcome.
What wasn't, however, was Lilith's immediate surrender. I had no interest in her, not yet, at least. She wasn't worth stopping for, or acknowledging. But she was in my way, and I couldn't tell if she thought me foolish or just had a death wish when she fell to her knees, lowering her head in submission. "Spare me, sire. I was brought here against my will—"
