Dante Andrade, First Prince of the Andrade Kingdom, Commander of the illustrious Third Legion, next in line for the throne, stood atop the steps in the audience hall. The empty throne was behind him, and positioned all throughout the room were his loyal soldiers. Mixed among them were an entire detachment of warrior-mages from the Collective. After hearing of the incident, the Collective had recalled Trey Strong and sent in his place two detachments led by two of their most formidable warriors. The other detachment from the Collective was outside the palace with the battalion he had stationed at the entrance. 

Dante, while not as clever as his sister, was no fool when it came to warfare. He knew that that priestess–that demon–would make her way inside rather quickly. It wasn’t that he doubted the ability of his men, but rather that he understood how easy it would be for a mage of her caliber to simply push her way through the door while holding back the onslaught of soldiers around her.

He was banking on that fact.

He didn’t know a lot about magic. He could use it to some extent, but without the training of the Collective he was behind when it came to the ins and outs of different attributes. Still, he had made sure to get briefings from the two captains when they arrived. 

According to them, fire magic was finicky at best. While it was the easiest attribute to create out of nothing due to the mass of it, the temperature was what tripped people up. a constant stream of energy was required in order to make the flames even remotely threatening. Doing that was taxing for even the most accomplished mage of the Collective.

He knew it was folly to draw direct lines of comparison between normal mages and this monster, but the same underlying principle should apply regardless of how freakish she may be. If they could draw her into this chamber and surround her, they should be able to either score a lucky hit or force her to use enough energy that she collapses. The first scenario was more of a wish than a real plan; even with all these mages, he wasn’t confident in their chances of doing meaningful harm to her before she wore herself out. That was why the rest of the Third Legion were gathered in the corridors connecting to this hall.

It would come at a steep cost, but Dante would throw wave after wave at her until she collapsed.

Dante was just grateful he was able to convince his family to let him stand here. It had been a heated discussion with even Dinah against it at first, but he had eventually got them to back down when he laid his motivations bare. 

He had full confidence in his Third Legion, but he knew that victory would come at a cost. The warrior-mages being here would help mitigate that to an extent, but sacrifice was unavoidable. Everyone who had seen this woman in action could agree on that wholeheartedly. How could he in good faith send his own men to die in a battle of attrition without their leader?

Additionally, someone of proper authority would be needed in the case that this somehow turned into a negotiation. The king and queen were off the table; they couldn’t risk crippling the country in the event of their deaths. Monarchs represented the nation itself, but the cold truth was that princes were replaceable. 

And if he were to die, he was confident that Dinah would make ten times the monarch he ever could’ve.

So there he stood. Before the throne, surrounded by seasoned warriors, Dante awaited the most terrifying opponent he could imagine.

The Collective mages had been skeptical at first. He didn’t begrudge them that. It would definitely be difficult to believe that such a powerful mage existed, especially to the well-learned members of the Collective. What had finally convinced them was hearing it directly from the lips of Dorian Millson, one of the mages assigned to the Andrade court and a prominent expert in healing and water magic. Watching the cocky warrior-mage captains turn pale upon confirmation of their foe’s ability had almost made it worth the nightmare they had experienced during the incident.

How does one fight such a beast? The best answer they could come up with was their current tactic: surround and overwhelm them with numbers while the mages run interference.

Time ticked away. Morning became noon became afternoon. Then, when the time matched that of their initial encounter, the heavy wooden doors of the audience chamber burst inward in an explosion of blue flame as if on cue.

A figure emerged from the heat-haze, a shadow silhouetted in blue, and a wall of flame remained in place to block the door. Dante held up one hand to signal his men, then faltered as he heard metal skittering across stone. 

Looking to the sound, Dante saw twenty or so amulets scattered haphazardly on the floor before the woman. He could tell at a glance that these were the very same amulets that marked a member of the Collective, and the disparate gasps of shock he heard from the mages dispersed among his soldiers confirmed it.

“That was a fun little exercise, Your Majesty, but none of the mages outside seemed to be Trey Strong.” Her voice was cold, but Dante thought he heard a hint of amusement coming from the masked figure. “I’ll say this once more: I am only here for the criminal called Trey Strong. You should know by now that I was not lying about his crimes. Bring him before me and this can end.” 

Dante panicked internally, but tried not to let it show on his face lest he dispirit his men. How did she take care of an entire detachment so quickly? And how do I get her to drop the flame barrier in the doorway? The men pursuing her would go around and join the rest of the legion in the corridors if they couldn’t make it through, but that would leave her with an open escape route.

While he was racking his brain for answers, someone else spoke first. Dante recognized the voice immediately as Captain Caroline Orthus of the Collective. She was powerful in her own right, an earth-attribute mage of great renown. In theory, she could be a match for their attacker. That was only in theory, however, and as things stood Dante was less than confident in the matchup.

“No matter who you serve, you should be kneeling in the presence of His Majesty!” She sounded rattled, but there was an underlying strength that reassured Dante somewhat. The captain was able to keep herself composed even in the face of proof that their assailant had defeated an entire detachment.

As if to convince himself, the other captain–Elijah Elias–made his voice known as well. Both captains had remained with the prince, but Elijah’s detachment had been stationed away from their leader outside the palace. He was looking at what was likely his own detachment’s remains, but he put up a good front.

“Get on your knees and submit to arrest!” he shouted. “This is your final warning!”

“Tsk.” Dante heard from the masked woman as she strode forward to the center of the hall until she stood in the very same place she had made her first declaration. She seemed to search the room, her nonexistent gaze settling on the two captains in turn.

Fluidly, the woman pulled off her cloak and mask to reveal the sleek black leather, pale skin, and raven hair beneath. She wore functional and flexible armor, but Dante could see the scars of numerous fights on it even from this distance. She tossed the cloak and mask to either side and they burst alight in radiant blue fire, disappearing without a trace before ever hitting the floor. 

Her blindfolded gaze turned to Dante then, and the bandages burned away to show the entirety of her visage. She was just as breathtaking as he had pictured upon seeing her bandaged face in their first encounter, but he was proven wrong in his assumption that she had been disfigured. Beneath the bandages was smooth ivory skin matching the rest of her face and two golden eyes that seemed to almost glow.

She was beautiful, he decided, in the same way the ocean was. When seen in a painting as a static image, or even from a distance on shore, the ocean was like a vast expanse of sapphire and salt air. But Dante knew better. This woman, much like the sea, was a force of nature that would rip men to shreds just as the sea in storm would do to ships. As if to confirm his appraisal, the woman bared her teeth in a wicked facsimile of an amused smile.

“I guess we’re doing this, then,” she said as she flexed her wrists as if to loosen them. Ten metal spikes detached from her bracers and floated effortlessly into place as if they were mere extensions of her nails. She lowered herself into a practiced stance, then growled “Come at me then, weaklings. Let’s see if you can make this fun.”