A new day rose over the fractured horizon, the first dawn of the war that had finally begun.
Each of us had already departed to our assigned roles.
Malachi moved with the northern troops, Sansir marched with the central force, and I prepared myself for the south.
I had donned my white armor, compact and tight, yet loose in the way only divine craftsmanship could allow.
I carried a long sword forged from the same metal, silver in truth but white in its reflection of light.
The land before me stretched endlessly beneath the bright sky.
We set up tents and small fires as we prepared for the worst.
Because we were stationed in the south, some troops were still uneasy, worried that Bamdia might go back on their word.
That fear lingered through the camp like a faint wind.
It was unnecessary, yet fear rarely listened to reason.
Fertical had received the war declaration only yesterday, and unsurprisingly had already arranged a massive force in response.
I sat within the largest tent, leaning over a wide map that stretched across the table and detailed every curve of the southern borders.
I had kept a few advisors earlier, but by now I had sent them all away.
The day dragged into long hours, and with no sight of approaching armies, I assumed the worst.
It was possible they were planning to cut through our lines quietly.
I turned to my left.
Jennifer stood there, dressed in white robes layered beneath light armor, her long straight black hair cascading down her back.
Her brown‑tinted eyes contrasted against her light skin, which was far lighter than mine.
She caught my stare and sighed. "Don't look at me. I already gave you my advice."
I pressed my lips together. "Meanie."
She frowned and crossed her arms.
"Fine. It is my best guess that if they do plan to cut through, they will send a scout or scouts first."
"I know at least that much," I replied, "the problem is the risk. I do not think it is wise for me to go alone."
Jennifer nodded. "And you will not send me either. The annoying mutt you are."
I smiled. "Yes, yes, which means you must come up with a better solution."
Jennifer was from a fallen noble family I often played with as a child.
Her healing ability was one of the greatest I had ever seen.
She was also very smart, and she had advised me for nearly my entire life.
She stepped forward and studied the map again.
"If I must give a suggestion," she said, "I advise you lead a small group northwest, and then circle back into our advancing army."
"That is a good idea," I admitted, "however there is a small chance someone strong appears."
She shrugged. "Are you really willing to let an advancing army pass?"
I turned back to the map, tracing the southern border with my finger.
The distance between me and Sansir's group could be closed easily.
Space and time were nothing more than pliable cloth to those who stood at the seventh wall.
Even so, I needed to hold back.
My thoughts kept drifting toward my little brother, and the truth I hated to admit.
His weakness would take time to break, but Mirabel had promised that by the end of the week, he would join us.
The camp outside rumbled with distant orders and clanking armor.
Fires crackled, sending sparks into the morning air while soldiers prepared for a war none could predict the outcome of.
The sky was washed in pale gold, as if mocking the blood that would soon stain the earth.
I rose from my seat. "Let us set out soon. However, it will be only me and you."
Jennifer's eyes widened. "You have a plan?"
I nodded. "We will meet whatever comes. If there is nothing, we return. If there is something, we slaughter."
"You had so many worries up until now. Such a bipolar woman."
I reached out and patted her head. "Lower yourself before the princess."
She scowled, but followed as I stepped out of the tent.
The cold southern wind brushed against my armor, white plates compact and tight, crafted to move with my body.
A few soldiers bowed or nodded as I passed, though most kept their eyes fixed on their work.
Everyone knew I was unpredictable.
There was no need to announce that I was leaving.
"You need to stop saying things like that," Jennifer muttered as I mounted my horse. "What if someone hears?"
"You should not worry," I said, extending a hand only for her to ignore it and climb up behind me on her own.
"I worry for my life, as well as yours," she grumbled, arms circling my waist as I kicked the horse forward.
We rode past rows of tents, the smell of smoke and metal thick in the air.
Men sharpened spears, women crafted talismans, captains barked commands.
The war had only just begun, and every breath felt like the calm before inevitable ruin.
Without hesitation, we cut through the fields and slipped into the open plains beyond the camp.
The most irritating part of war was always the unpredictability, especially when the enemy might field knights powerful enough to rival my own level.
If my suspicion was right, a scouting group would already be moving.
If there was more than one, it would mean Fertical had separated its armies.
A foolish strategy on their part, but an inconvenience for me.
I was confident in my power. I was far less confident in fighting several people who matched it.
I glanced back at Jennifer, who clung to my waist with quiet determination.
"If it becomes too much for me to handle, I want you to run away."
She poked her fingers through the gap of my helmet, tapping just above my eyes.
It didn't hurt, but the gesture was enough to irritate me.
"Do not ridicule me, Nicole. I am not so weak that I would run from battle."
I turned forward again and lowered my visor, unwilling to risk another jab to the face.
"You are a healer," I said. "This group's only healer, after careful consideration."
She held me tighter. "Irrelevant. I am not going to die."
We continued to ride in silence, perhaps simply for the comfort of being together.
For a brief moment, I allowed myself to feel at peace. The wind was steady.
The plains stretched far and open. Even the distant rumble of the camp felt muted.
That peace shattered in an instant.
A terrible force pressed against my chest, heavy and suffocating, like a hand gripping my very soul.
I stopped the horse immediately and leapt off. Jennifer hit the ground moments after, rolling into a crouch.
Then I saw it.
Something cut through the air toward me at a speed that blurred the world around it.
My body refused to move, locked in place by the sheer pressure of the incoming killing intent.
It was an arrow.
I forced all of my power into my arm, dragging strength from every corner of myself.
At the last possible moment, my hand snapped up and closed around the arrow's shaft.
The impact detonated beneath my feet.
The ground shattered in a wide circle.
Dirt and stone erupted outward. The shockwave sent both Jennifer and the horse flying.
I prayed the horse survived. I prayed Jennifer was not badly hurt.
Prayers were meaningless. What mattered was the presence that followed.
A figure walked toward us from the far distance, not rushing, not hiding, simply advancing as though every step was his rightful claim.
I had heard of him, but never seen him in person.
The descriptions had not exaggerated.
His short, slicked‑back hair was a baby‑blue shade that resembled the calm sky.
His eyes were pitch black, sleek and sharp, giving him an expression that balanced elegance and danger.
His complexion was fair, slightly darker than most from Fertical.
He wore dark armor with a dull brown sheen, paired with a fur‑lined cape the same blue as his hair.
A bow rested in his hand, a quiver across his back, and a sword at his waist.
Rosen Vernesta.
The prince of Fertical.
When he finally stood before me, his aura washed over the battlefield like a command that demanded obedience.
It pressed against my mind, heavy and potent, as though reality itself leaned in to acknowledge him.
"I quite despise all of this," he said, voice smooth and controlled. "I had hoped for a little more time to prepare, and yet…"
His eyes shifted, the blackness deepening into something far more ancient and resolute.
"I feel the need to win this little war you've declared."