"My people 'o Hanrahan," Sybyll shouted toward the town once her final preparations were in place. "Since tha' murderin' son 'o tha usurper won't face me, I will come fer his head an' offer it to ye' all fer what ye've suffered under 'is rule," she said, allowing her voice to ripple with power as it spread to every corner of the hometown she'd only ever been able to visit in hiding.
"Keep ta' yer homes," she added. "Soldiers 'o me home, throw down yer arms and go back ta' yer homes an' ye won'a be harmed. But fight today, an' stand wit Ian, and know ye will die ta a man!"
It was her final warning and the last chance for surrender she intended to give her enemies tonight. She doubted many would flee the battlefield and she could already hear the templars and the Inquisitor calling out that the words of a demon or a witch weren't to be trusted. Still, she had tried, and she would rest with a clean conscience no matter how much blood fell on snow tonight because she had.
