Skeletal remains of villages littered the path toward the empire. Priscilla's group passed by the decimation. They soaked in the acrid stench of ash and blood that proliferated across the territories. Charred timbers and hollowed-out foundations which stood a testament to the brutality that rained heavier than any storm onto the empire's lands.

  Priscilla clenched the reins, unhappiness radiating from her features as she scanned the area from atop her steed. It was infuriating. She did not wish to see the innocent suffer. Yet, there was no alternative; nobody else would go out of their way to save the masses; the empire was crumbling, and little hope remained.

  She was hopeful. But she had to make it to the empire first.

  Several of the mercenaries spread out, searching the remains, desperate for any sign of life to give them hope. But as they combed through the ruined village, they couldn't find even a single bone remaining. Life was gone, leaving nothing but shadows.

  They returned toward the center where the rest waited and spoke, "There's nothing left, My Lady. Whoever remained is long gone."

  Priscilla sighed, looking toward the path ahead. "This journey won't be an easy one if this is the norm we're forced to accept." She cracked the reins and moved forward. "Let's go onto the next one. There may still be hope to be found."

  The group moved cautiously ahead, following distant cries of animals shifting through the woods. Once they reached the ruins of another village, their brows furrowed beyond recognition. Each bloodied threshold slammed against their chests with the unspeakable. Tracks in the mud swerved every which way, desperate and brave as captive humans struggled against the inevitable fate that clawed at them.

  Jensen landed on the ground with a dull thud. He walked toward a desecrated home with the door lying ajar and half splintered from the assault. As Jensen peered in, he caught sight of a simple wooden toy that lay bloodied on the ground with claw marks against the surface.

  He knelt and picked up the toy, a grimace painting his face as the bloody smell wafted into his nostrils. Visions of Bianca flashed through his mind as he grasped the toy firmly in his palm, a silent mutter creasing his lips before he choked it down.

  Priscilla watched silently, the reality weighing on her. She could see Jensen's actions and the toy in his grasp. His thoughts were hardly hidden, but in these dire circumstances, something like this would continue unless they could cut the demons at the root.

  A flicker of movement caught Priscilla's attention as something scurried behind one of the ransacked homes. "Over there!" Priscilla yelled, pointing in the direction the shadow shifted.

  Several of Priscilla's men jumped out and rushed toward the fleeting shadows, eager to be of use to their future empress.

  The mercenaries found three cowled figures fleeing, wearing the emblem of the Church of Zenith. The men rushed at them, toppling the cultists onto the ground and eliciting the pained cries that rang through the area.

  Priscilla and several others came over and saw the Zenith members on the ground, struggling and flailing against the mercenaries' confinement.

  "Release us, foul heathens!" One of the cowled men hissed, flailing against the bindings that wrapped around his limbs. "Traitors against the Starlit Sky, must you crave death so eagerly?"

  "Wicked beings! The day of reckoning is upon us. How dare you raise your hand against your rulers!" Another spoke, his voice a self-satisfied drone.

  Priscilla, fueled by a silent fury, stepped off her steed and walked over to the men. A crackling strike echoed through the area as her palm landed squarely on one of the men's cheeks, causing his entire body to stagger against the earth.

  "Silence," Priscilla muttered, glaring at the men with frost in her eyes. "You beasts have no right to speak here after everything you've done. The empire's in shambles because of the demons, and you fools line yourselves begging to slave away for them worse than beggars at a brothel."

  "How many homes have you devastated? How many families are broken because of your selfish ideals? How many children lost everything?" Priscilla said, her voice a chilling stab at the captive men's hearts. "You deserve no mercy. Your kind has failed the empire and brought ruin into people's hearts, leaving nothing but terror and dread in your wake."

  One of the cultists glared at Priscilla with a mocking grin cradling his cheeks. "Heretical cow, only the weak and irresponsible suffer. All is for the glory of the everlasting Fallen Star. Glory upon us!" He chanted with hysterical laughter bellowing from his chest.

  A slap echoed.

  Priscilla gritted her teeth, the feeling of the man's greased-up face still coating the palm of her hand. "Incorrigible bastards! Irredeemable and hopeless, scum of the empire!" She spat furiously, her blood boiling from the apathetic ravings of the lunatics that hadn't even become demons themselves but merely stoked the flames of war.

  "Tell me, are any of the villagers alive?" Priscilla asked flatly. "Be useful in your final moments."

  The cultists snickered. Refusal painted their jeering faces as they laughed at Priscilla's plight.

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  Jensen walked over with his hand wrapped around the waraxe's handle. "Let me make him talk, Pris." He said.

  "No, Jens. Leave them to me." Priscilla replied.

  Priscilla knelt beside the men, radiating an icy chill that swept the area. She reached toward one of the men and placed her hand atop his head, causing a calm flame to descend into him. The overzealous cultist's laughter warped into shrill shrieks as tendrils of fire burned within his body, ravaging his insides with a slow-burning finality that crept toward his heart.

  His companions pulled back frantically, their bound hands clawing at the soil. "Witch! What heretical magic is this?" One of them yelped as he tried to escape.

  The man's questions remained unanswered as his companion's shrieks magnified, drawing a chill to all present, even Priscilla's people.

  Priscilla raised her head toward the two cowled fanatics and smiled—a gentle yet terrifying smile that bore down upon the men. "Will you speak now? Where are the villagers? Surely you haven't killed them all, have you? Your kind has a larger appetite and desire than just that. They wouldn't be so foolish as to eradicate villages and leave no trace."

  The men stared blankly, choking down words of agreement or disagreement and flaunting their unwillingness to speak to the heretic. But their refusal in itself didn't upset Priscilla.

  She continued feeling a surge of joy within her as she gazed at the cultists. "Not willing to speak, huh?"—"Then, which one of you should I burn next?"

  Her blatant disregard for their lives and the immeasurable threat contained in her words terrified the men beyond belief. They sat silent, but one of them shuffled close to his companion, leaned back, and kicked him with all the force he could muster. "I'll speak! Spare me." The man shouted as his once-faithful companion crashed face-first into the ground before Priscilla's feet, betrayed, disoriented, and frantically scrambling for escape.

  Priscilla reached down, placed her hand on the unwilling sacrifice of a cultist, and chuckled at the last man. "Good choice." The man lit ablaze, coiling into himself before turning into ash, a demise far swifter than his previous companion had the honor of feeling.

  "Now, where are they? Where are the children?" Priscilla emphasized as she turned toward the last man.

  "Baroness Mugwort! The Baroness is collecting all of them in her territory!" The cultist cried out. "It's only two hours northeast!"

  "Mugwort...?" Priscilla said, contemplating the familiarity of the name. Was it the empire's 'black widow'? "Are you talking about the husband-killer harlot, Karola Mugwort?"

  "That's the one!" The man nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. "She's become one of the demon vanguards that prepare sacrifices for the millennium's dawn."

  "But she's also a greedy, lustful woman herself and has been putting many of the captives to the side for her own twisted pleasures." The man added, attempting to push Priscilla's fury toward the baroness.

  "And how long until the 'day of reckoning' comes, this so-called millennium's dawn that you cultists and the demons alike rave about?" Priscilla asked.

  "I-" The cultist's reply muffled, and eyes widened. "I can't speak of their direct plans. That would be a betrayal of the highest order!"

  "Speak," Priscilla glared at the man with a crimson glow swirling across her pupils. "Are you trying to end up like your friends after already betraying so much information to us?"

  "No, that's completely different, you mad heretic!" The cultist said, scowling terribly as his confidence returned. "The Fallen Star illuminates our path to the future. We cannot betray that trust by spoiling the core tenet instilled in us! I'll never speak about that, witch."

  "Fine," Priscilla shrugged and flicked her wrist. The cultist's choked whimpers briefly sounded before the man vanished.

  Priscilla rose and exhaled, feeling the anger coursing through her insides. "They deserved no mercy. Think of the despair you felt when the children were lying helpless and bordering death's door. Their kind deserves a thousand brutal deaths." She said to the men who stood behind her.

  "Oh, come on, Pris! It has nothing to do with mercy. If anything, we wanted a piece of these accursed fanatics ourselves!" Jensen laughed, uplifting the icy mood that had settled. "None of us are blind to what's happened across the lands. They've destroyed everything, and we could've been just as ravaged had it not been for you and your strength."

  Many of the men nodded, memories of the Skriythe's parasitic machinations flashing through their minds. The bugs were merely one type of foot soldier that ran amok through the empire's territories. Being cowed by some cruel questioning was hardly appropriate in comparison.

  "Let's head out!" Priscilla climbed on her steed and moved forward. "The sooner we reach Mugwort's territory, the sooner we may save some."

  "What about the imperial city, My Lady?" Azhir asked.

  Priscilla turned to him, "It'll need to wait. Their plans have yet to fully manifest so we can afford to save more people while journeying toward the city."

  "Right now, the people are the most important. Whether it's to be useful ourselves or to cripple the demon's plans, saving them seems to benefit both goals the most."

  The truth was that the empire was more than history or buildings adorned in gold; it was the culmination of all the people who existed now and before, their experiences, dreams, and hopes all woven into the tapestry that became the Ellis Empire. And now their lives were at stake, desperate and scared, unwilling to surrender yet pressured into it by the odds.

  Priscilla craved to step foot in the empire. Her revenge depended on it. Preventing the demon's rise depended on it. But within the depths of her being, she could feel the calling from the people who suffered at the hands of the cultists and demons. It tugged and sang to her. Begging her to rush valiantly and barge into Mugwort's territory, raining salvation upon the unfortunate.

  She exhaled and focused on the path ahead. "Make haste! There's no time to waste. We'll conquer Mugwort's territory as a stepping stone toward the imperial city. Save the people, stop the demons, and if need be, take down the harlot!"

  She exhaled and focused on the path ahead. "Make haste! There's no time to waste. We'll conquer Mugwort's territory as a stepping stone toward the imperial city. Save the people, stop the demons, and if need be, take down the harlot!"

  "YES, MY LADY!" The group roared at Priscilla's command, their voices echoing through the desolate village, startling the wildlife and shaking the trees.

  Their hasty procession thundered as the hoofsteps slammed against the beaten path toward Mugwort's barony. Fighting intent radiated off them as their gazes narrowed and focused on the goal before them. The demons awaited. And death awaited them just the same.