Fire raged, casting the city in a hellish glow as screams pierced the air. Smoke spiraled upwards, ignored by the indifferent heavens. It was a scene of utter chaos—refugees who had sought sanctuary were mercilessly butchered and burned. Amidst the turmoil, a child’s tears carved clean paths down her soot-stained cheeks—a rare sight in the Realm of Magic, where children were scarce.
Behind her, stomping boots met cobblestones in a relentless drumbeat, echoing in a roaring tempo that drowned out the pounding of her own heart. Her bunny ears, once fluffy and white, now drooped heavily, coated in gray ash. Panicked, with her precious pink eyes wide and glistening, she stumbled as she ran through the chaos, ducking and weaving through clashing swords and bursts of magic that ignited the helpless.
Lulu of the Willowy Vale had already endured unspeakable horrors. Her home was obliterated by the Slaethians, who didn’t stop there; they took her entire village captive, intending to enslave them. But first, they set a chilling example, using her mother as the spectacle for the horrified villagers. They executed her mother right before her eyes, and Lulu can still see her mother’s head rolling on the ground in her nightmares.
Night after night, Lulu is haunted in her sleep by the memory of her father’s desperate pleas for mercy, his voice begging for death to take him in her mother’s stead. Chained and caged throughout a relentless nightmare, she was liberated by a monstrous woman during a harrowing night of bloodshed in the town of Elsternwick. However, soon after their escape, her father vanished within the dungeon ruins of the Grotto of the Betrayed, presumed killed by the same army now mercilessly slaughtering so many in what was meant to be a sanctuary for the lost and broken.
In a realm where magic and might reign supreme, mercy, hope, sanctuary, and salvation are mere illusions—a harsh reality that little Lulu has come sadly to learn. Her entire existence was shaped by persecution, war, and the constant uncertainty of her next meal, as all who loved her were repeatedly taken from her, leaving Lulu, a lone orphan in a realm where children were all but absent.
Never in her young life had she seen other children play, laugh with glee, or frolic carefree; in truth, she had never seen another child, except for a brief glimpse of a goblin child once. However, many of their kind were soulless, feral creatures, constantly breeding and pillaging without rhyme or reason.
This was the very rationale behind Slaethia’s desire to butcher other races: any race capable of producing such feral beings was viewed as a rampant pest needing extermination—their holy crusade. This fate also befell any kingdom that refused to take part in the slaughter or to bend the knee to their Ascended Gods—as Lulu often heard the adults bitterly complain in hushed whispers.
Lulu tripped on a corpse and fell flat on her face. Pushing her arms beneath her, she raised herself up, pausing for a moment to notice the blood dripping from her nose. Glancing at the corpse, she met the cold, lifeless eyes of the baker’s wife, who had often snuck her pastries when her husband wasn’t looking. Right then, two thuds slammed into the stone wall beside her. Turning her head, she saw two arrows protruding from the wall, their feathered ends still wobbling from the impact, narrowly missing her head. Quickly, Lulu scrambled to her feet and ran once more.
Lulu dashed beneath a wagon just as another arrow flew past her, its rune tip igniting the goods atop the wagon into an inferno of flames. Embers flickered in a dance in the wind around her as she stumbled again as she ran, heading for an alley. Rounding the corner, Lulu slammed into a solid surface, causing her to stagger backward and fall. Shaking her head, she saw an armored Slaethian knight raising a mace. Despite the tears streaming down her face, Lulu did not close her eyes; she refused to look away as the knight mockingly laughed and brought his weapon down.
“Die, feral beast!” the knight bellowed as the mace slammed into the cobblestones beside her, missing Lulu entirely. Confusion rocked her as she stared face-to-face with the armored knight. They both remained silent for a long moment… then suddenly, he collapsed to his side, his head clinking against the stones as it detached and rolled away. Blinking in confusion at the dead knight, Lulu caught a flicker of shadow out of the corner of her eye. She snapped her head in that direction, but there was nothing—no one in sight. Yet, she could have sworn something within the shadow was smiling back at her with needle-like teeth. A distant boom pulled her from the unexplainable, and she staggered to her feet, running once more.
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Rounding another corner out of the alley and into the center market, Lulu came to a screeching halt and dove behind a toppled-over wooden barrel. Peeking her head up, she saw corpses strewn across the market. On each side, combatants were at a standstill. To one side, a line of Slaethian knights, barbarians, casters, and archers formed a formidable wall. Opposite them stood a row of vampires clad in dark, imposing armor, their skin completely obscured to shield them from the sun that failed to gleam on their blacker-than-black armor.
The two lines were a hair’s breadth from clashing, and from the corpses strewn around, Lulu could tell this wasn’t their first encounter. Gulping, she ducked behind the barrel, frantically searching for an escape route. Tragically, there seemed nowhere to go. The vampires might be her best chance, but she knew she’d never make it to them before being struck down by an archer or caster. Glancing back at the alley she had just come from, she spotted a group of Slaethians approaching. Horror and dread surged through her pounding heart as tears continued to streak down her ash-caked face. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, she prayed to anyone who might listen for salvation.
Lulu jolted in fright as both sides let out their battle cries, and the sound of feet stampeding on cobblestone filled the air as they charged at each other. Just then, she noticed the Slaethians who had been coming down the alley had spotted her. A mage among them grinned with sinister satisfaction as she raised her wand in Lulu’s direction. However, the mage froze as the din of clashing forces suddenly quieted as a shadow swept over them all. Lulu glanced up, relief washing over her as she noticed the beginnings of a lunar eclipse blotting out the sun.
Quickly shifting her gaze from the eclipse back to the mage and her companions, Lulu noticed a new expression on the woman’s face—was it fear? Before she could fully comprehend it, Lulu’s eyes widened as the mage flicked her wrist, prompting her to dive out of the way just as the barrel behind her exploded into splinters. With little options, Lulu scurried on all fours into the fray, tucking and weaving as boots and feet stomped around her.
Lulu let out a yelp as a barbarian crashed to the ground before her, abruptly blocking her path. She had no time to notice the woman’s lifeless gaze as she scurried in another direction, moving like a lost ant through the tumult of the battle. No matter where she crawled, obstacles were in her way. Under the dark shadow of the eclipse, swords and hammers crashed down around her, each blow narrowly missing her limbs as their wielders engaged in fierce, shoulder-to-shoulder combat, completely oblivious to her presence in the cramped market.
Guided by the strobing flashes of spells and drifting embers that flew about, Lulu frantically navigated her path among colliding fighters. Magic attacks ignited and exploded against various wards, creating a spectacle hue of colors. The scene might have reminded her of a fireworks festival were it not marred by the screams, cries, and the harsh clash of swords against bone and metal.
As she dodged another warrior falling, the eerie glow from the magical bursts cast ghostly shadows over the bodies and limbs strewn about while red rained down, bathing Lulu in blood and ash. Up ahead, she noticed a gap opening as the flashes of magic intermittently revealed her escape route. In a frantic rush, she pushed past several corpses, repeatedly slipping as she crawled over the entrails of the fallen. However, Lulu’s heart sank when she reached the opening, only to find it flanked by combatants who had backed away from a single beastkin with wolf-like features. She should have felt safe in his presence, but only dread washed over her as he lifted a single finger toward the Slaethians.
“I call forth the rage of my goddess, [Death Bolt]!” the beastkin bellowed. A black lightning bolt erupted from his hand, blasting through a row of Slaethians as if their wards offered no protection.
Then, out of nowhere, a golden light filled the market from above. Keeping as low as possible, Lulu still glanced up at a woman with golden wings descending. Her heart filled with dread; she recognized this figure as one of the Slaethians. The angelic harbinger of doom raised an arm high, gathering golden light to form a magnificent sword above her head before swooping down.
Lulu had heard rumors that a champion had switched sides to join the vampires and refugees. Still, without knowing who it was, dread overwhelmed her. She screamed, frantically crawling on all fours as explosions of holy magic erupted behind her.
Out of nowhere, Lulu felt large, rough hands reach beneath her armpits, lifting her from the ground. Whoever had grabbed her was behind her, leaving her uncertain whether it was a savior or foe. As such, she frantically kicked and screamed, unable to deter her captor.
“Lulu, stop! I’ve got you, child; you’re safe,” Chief Hensley assured her as he pushed further back behind the vampire’s lines.
“C-Chieftain?” Lulu squeaked, her voice breaking into loud sobs.
“Yes, child,” the old warg comforted her gently.
With a few sniffs, Lulu asked the question that had been burning in her heart since the battle began, “W-Where’s the empress?”
“She went to fight their champion,” he replied, his voice low and steady.