The battlefield was quiet. Not with peace but with fear and death.
Corpses laying on the bloodied plains, their armors glinting under the dying sun like broken mirrors. Screams faded into the wind, replaced by the clash of steel.
And there she stood in the center - tall, breathtaking, terrifying.
Seraphine Kaelith.
A fire feared by everyone. Even her own people. Heir to House Virex. Raised to kill. A name whispered like a curse across nations.
Her armor, midnight black and gold trimmed, gleamed under the setting sun. Blood stream ran down her cheek, across her jaw - none of it her own. A greatsword rested on her shoulder, it's tip dripping red onto the cold earth.
Behind her, the remaining soldiers stood still. They did not cheer. They did not breathe. They watched as the legend walked.
Seraphine's eyes -sharp, cold, and unrelenting scanning the field.
Across the filed, the enemy general snarled atop his horse. Tall, armored like a mountain. The black crest of Kingdom of Armathis flared on his chest-an insult to her land.
"Princess of Virex, surrender now and I'll grant you a peaceful death. " He spat, his voice echoing through the battlefield.
Seraphine didn't blink.
She rode forward alone, sword resting at her side like it was part of her soul.
"You invaded my land, " She called out, voice calm as a priestess but sharp enough to draw blood.
"You murdered my people. You deserve no mercy - only death. "
The general laughed, " Then come. Let the world remember how the warrior princess begged for her life. "
She didn't beg.
She charged.
The ground trembled as steel clashed. Her blade shimmered. The general raised his axe.
Their weapons clashed.
The sound cracked the sky.
He was stronger, heavier, crueler - but Seraphine was faster. Smarter. Sharper. She ducked beneath a sweeping blow that would've snapped a man in half and drove her blade through his horse's neck.
The horse roared, collapsed, dragging the general down with it.
In a blink, she was on him.
"You call yourself a general? " She whispered as she dodged another blow. "You're just a butcher in borrowed armor. "
And then - she struck.
She rose as he fell.
He gasped dragging himself through the mud which turned red from his soldiers blood - begging to be spared.
She laughed. The sound melodic like a music but dangerously scary sent shivers down his spine. She walked over to him, boots sinking in crimson earth. Slow and steady like a lioness hunting her prey.
She crouched, tugging her hair behind her ear like a devil dressed as an angel.
"Do you know why nations fear me? "She asked, her voice soft, like a silk over a dagger.
The man whimpered.
" Because I don't kill for pleasure "she whispered in his ear sending shivers down his spine, " I kill for peace. "
And with one swift move, she ended the plea before it became pathetic.
She turned away and the wind shifted, carrying her scent - blood and roses - across the dead land.