A roar of arcane thunder split the sky above the eastern cliffs of the Demonlands.
From a shimmering, swirling maw of gold-edged violet light, a battalion of royal demon soldiers marched through, adorned in obsidian-plated armor, their banners flapping with the sigil of Vexena as theirs boots pounded the dust of Syraleth's borderlands.
Behind them, sleek obsidian carriages rolled forward, each gilded with silver trim and glowing demonic sigils. Floating at their center, in a throne-like cabin upholstered with blood-red velvet and cushioned like a goddess's chariot, sat the Demon Queen Vexena, a finger lazily swirling through a goblet of spiced wine.
She let out a long, annoyed sigh.
"I hate road trips," she muttered.
Maribelle, sitting across from her in a crisp corset of arcane steel and lace, arched a brow. "You insisted on coming in person."
"Only because sending Eris ahead with a warning note would've been considered 'poor diplomacy.'"
