Zena’s eyes widened in shock and concern. “What kind of conflict?” she asked.

Dagiel’s expression grew even more serious. “One that will be fought against a powerful enemy, one that seeks to destroy all that we hold dear. The ‘lost one’ mentioned in the prophecy may refer to a fallen angel, one who has turned against their kind and joined forces with this enemy. As for the ‘bloodshed of blue blood’, that refers to the blood of angels, which is said to be blue. It means that many of our own will fall in the coming battle.”

Zena took a deep breath, her mind racing with thoughts of the impending danger. “What can we do to prepare?”

Dagiel’s eyes met hers with a steely gaze. “We will do what we have always done. We will fight with all our might to protect the innocent and defend our home.

We will prepare for battle and trust in the power of our angelic abilities. And we will not give up hope.”

Zena nodded in determination. She knew that the battle ahead would be difficult and perilous, but she was ready to face it with her fellow angels by her side.

As they neared the enemy stronghold, Zena could see the looming figures of Feral Lich and his army. The sound of clanging weapons and roaring voices filled the air. Zena could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet as if the earth itself was trembling with anticipation of the battle to come.

Her allies marched forward, weapons raised, ready to engage in combat. Zena joined them, her heart racing with excitement and fear. She could feel her adrenaline pumping, and her senses heightened as she focused on the enemy before her.

The battle raged on, with both sides taking heavy losses. Zena fought with all her might, her sword flashing in the sunlight. She could feel the magical energy flowing through her, empowering her strikes and giving her an edge in the battle.

And then she saw him. Feral Lich, towering over his soldiers, his armor gleaming in the sunlight. Zena felt a surge of anger washes over her. This man handled so much death and destruction. He had to be stopped.

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With fierce determination, Zena charged toward the commander, her sword raised high. Feral Lich saw her coming and swung his massive battle axe, but Zena was ready for him. She dodged his strike and struck back with a powerful blow, her sword slicing through his armor and piercing his chest.

Feral Lich roared in pain, but he didn’t fall. He swung his axe again, but Zena parried the blow and struck him again, this time in the shoulder. The commander stumbled back, his grip on his weapon loosening.

Zena seized the opportunity and struck once more, this time delivering a fatal blow to Feral Lich’s head. The commander’s body fell to the ground, lifeless.

The enemy soldiers, seeing their commander fall, retreated. Zena and her allies chased after them, striking down those who dared to stand in their way. The battle was won, but at a substantial cost.

Zena looked around at the devastation. So many lives were lost. So much destruction. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow in her heart. But she also felt a sense of hope. With Feral Lich defeated, perhaps the people could begin to rebuild and heal.

She turned to Dagiel, who was standing nearby. “It’s over,” she said, her voice filled with both exhaustion and relief.

Dagiel nodded, a solemn expression on his face. “Yes,” he said. “But at what cost?”

Zena couldn’t help but feel grateful for their support. She knew she couldn’t have done it alone. She turned to Dagiel and gave him a nod of appreciation for his leadership and guidance during the battle.

As the dust settled, Zena walked over to where Feral Lich’s body lay. She knelt beside him and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for his soul. Even though he was an enemy, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness for the life lost.

Zena and her allies returned to their base, victorious but weary. As they rested and tended to their wounds, Zena thought about what Byron had said to her before the battle. She wondered what it could mean, and what the future held for them.

But for now, she was just grateful to be alive and to have won the battle.

But the victory was short-lived. As the dust settled and the battlefield became quiet, Zena saw something that made her heart sink. The mountain in the distance was shrinking.

She remembered Byron’s words, “When the day comes that the mountain shrinks, the lost one shall usher forth bloodshed of blue blood and the rise of mankind.” and realized what they meant. The mountain was the symbol of the angelic realm, and if it was shrinking, it meant that their power was fading.