The snow had stopped falling. The wind had ceased. As if the whole world were holding its breath.
I walked at the front, my two abyssium swords crossed on my back. My black uniform—the one I had worn during the first war—clung to me like a second skin, gleaming under the wan daylight. The abyssium cast crimson reflections, as if the very matter burned with an inner fire.
Behind me, two silhouettes.
Kaelira, a sublime demoness, armored up to her thighs, her long black hair streaming in the blizzard, gripped her massive sword, also forged in abyssium. Her yellow eyes shone with a predatory gleam.
Sae, my first wife, my Queen, advanced with a quieter grace. Her black armor emphasized her hips and revealed glimpses of her pale thighs. She held a sacred lance reforged in abyssium, her slender fingers caressing its shaft the way one caresses a lover.
Before us, the army.
