Kerrigan sprinted through the alien forest, her bare feet pounding against the undergrowth. Her tail swished and dragged behind her, sometimes catching on the uneven ground, but she pushed on. The screams grew louder in the distance, a cacophony of terror and fury. Whatever those things were, they weren’t far behind.

Her mind reeled, the stranger’s cryptic words still echoing in her head.

Your da was no exception. Desperation makes fools of us all.

She clenched her jaw, forcing the thoughts away. Focus. She had to focus. Her body was faster, stronger now; she could feel it in every muscle. Her wounds had already scabbed over. They looked like they were days old instead of just hours. Another oddity to add to the growing list. At least this one is a plus, she thought.

The landscape rushed past her in a blur as she ran. The forest was made up of the same twisted trees of the plains, but they were larger, older. The plains loamy dirt had given way to purple covered moss, which felt like she was running on carpet, and intermittent ankle high, blood red fungal growths. The silvery and green light from the twin moons bathing everything in an otherworldly glow. She broke the tree line, thankful that she hadn’t come across any horror movie cliches and spotted it ahead — a massive structure rising from the ground like a jagged black spire. It was the Stronghold.

It wasn’t just a building; it was a fortress, towering and ominous, with 10-meter-high walls that looked like they had been carved from obsidian. Huge silver runes had been etched to the walls, glowing ominously in contrast with midnight walls. The air around it buzzed with an oppressive energy, and strange figures moved along its walls, silhouetted against the eerie light of the green flames that flickered along its battlements, illuminating the walls.

The only way out is up.

Kerrigan sighed with relief; she was almost there. She didn’t know what she was going to encounter in the Stronghold, but it had to be better than out here.

Her legs burned as she closed the distance, the shrill cries of her pursuers growing louder. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw them—three creatures, smaller but no less grotesque than the other demons she’d fought. They were faster, their long limbs propelling them forward in a frantic, almost spider-like gait.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered under her breath, pushing herself harder. Her lungs burned, but the Stronghold was close now. She spotted the gates, massive and made of some dark, shimmering metal, flanked by grotesque statues of snarling demons, their faces twisted in eternal rage.

She was about to yell at the figures on the walls for help, praying they might be friendly when a sudden burst of searing pain shot through her head, halting her in her tracks. She stumbled, clutching her skull.

Words—alien and incomprehensible— again flooded her mind. They were overwhelming at first, but then, just as quickly, they fell into place like they finally belonged. The pain faded. Her tongue felt heavy, her throat thick, as if it were reshaping itself. She doubled over, coughing violently, and when she spoke, the words that came out were of a language not her own, but understanding it non the less.

“Let me in!” she screamed, her voice carrying the weight of the strange language, grating and commanding. “I seek sanctuary!” .

The figures on the wall hesitated. The gate groaned and began to creak open.

The Gift of the Gab, she realized, demonic language.

Behind her, the creatures shrieked, their clawed hands almost within reach. Kerrigan surged forward, moving purely on instinct. As she crossed the threshold, the gate slammed shut with a heavy clang that reverberated through the air, cutting off the sound of pursuit.

As the gate slammed shut, the oppressive darkness swallowed her. Another sound echoed, reverberating through the thick stone walls. A second gate ahead groaned under the strain of its own weight, its slow, grinding sound growing louder as it began to rise.

Light from beyond the second gate spilled in, filtering through the darkness, casting long, eerie shadows. As the gate crept higher, Kerrigan heard it—voices, faint but unmistakable. The sounds of a city. A chaotic, bustling energy that provided mixture of relief and unease. Civilization at last!

She took a cautious step forward, the black stone floor cool beneath her feet as she moved toward the second gate. Tension tightened her shoulders, every muscle still taut from the earlier battle. She hadn’t expected to find any form of civilization in this twisted, alien world, but the prospect of seeing something—anything—familiar gave her a strange sense of comfort.

The second gate finally rose high enough for her to pass through. As she stepped into the light, her eyes fell on them—two figures standing at attention on either side of the threshold. They were armoured beings, tall and imposing. Their matte black scale mail was sleek and form-fitting, yet it conveyed a battle-hardened toughness. Their faces were sharp, angular, their eyes glowing faintly with a piercing intensity. Their ears were long and pointed, adding to their otherworldly appearance. They resembled elves from the movies—yet darker, more dangerous.

Kerrigan’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing to process the bizarre nature of her surroundings. These beings, with their sleek armour and composed expressions, bore a striking resemblance to the demons she had just killed—but they were different. They were refined, controlled, not the hollow, feral creatures she had fought. They were something far more disciplined. Far more deadly.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

One of the figures tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he assessed her. "Who goes there?" his voice was calm, but the authority in it was undeniable. His tone was sharp and unyielding, though he had a kind of confused look about him.

Kerrigan stood her ground, her mind racing. She wasn’t sure how to react. They were not like her. They held shield and spear. No talons, nor horns, or even tail…and they were clothed. Are they going to attack me, she thought. Will I be cast be back out. I’m waltzing into your house in the Emperor’s New Clothes for fucks sake. Standing here in front of these beings, she couldn’t afford to be intimidated. Not now. This bloke had the air of a Digger about him. If it was one thing she had learnt from her years as a Digger was that if you didn’t know someone’s rank, always assume they were an Officer until otherwise corrected.

"Kerrigan," she said in her best Boss voice. Which is to say full of hot air, expecting those beneath her to solve her problems that someone, anyone else but her has caused. "I need to speak with whoever's in charge here. Right. Now."

The other armoured figure, the one who had remained silent, stepped forward slightly, raising his spear and giving her a salute. "Yes, Mam" The word was said with a subtle sneer, but the hint of curiosity behind it kept Kerrigan from reacting too harshly. He walked off to a room embedded into the wall.

The remaining guard was having a good time gathering an eyeful and it wasn’t too long before the other one came back with another who looked like they may be in charge. He was almost like her. He had horns at least. They were smaller than hers but, he had horns.

“My Lady. Squire Zalfon, east gate officer of the watch, at your service. How may I be of assistance?” the newcomer said with a bemused look on his face. “You seem to be recently ascended yet you are already a Noble…that is, remarkable”

She didn’t know what these creatures were, she had no idea what they were thinking but she sure as sit could feel their power. Something about this new bloke gave her the idea that she did not what to mess with him. An NCO? An Officer that knew his business. Strange happenings. She didn’t know how she knew that. She just did, like an instinct.

“Look. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what the fucks going on. I woke up and was set upon by a bunch of things trying to gut me. Now I’m here” she explained.

“Yes, that’s generally what happens to the newly Ascended. We get half a dozen, every 1/10th cycle of Esme” he nodded. “However,” he went on, “We usually we get Plebeians, not Low Nobles. The horns of a squire but a the tail of a Knight...Something in between? This is most unusual”

“Esme?”

“The Green moon?", Zalfon studied her, his smile fading into something more calculating. “Ah, you’re still regaining your memories. Typical for the Ascended. And yet, to reach this level so soon...” He stepped closer, his gaze appraising. “You’re quite the anomaly. By The Contract’s mercy, you have a cycle’s asylum as an uncontracted Ascended to contract before your free game. Though I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t tempting to... expedite matters.”

Low Noble? Ascended? The words meant little, but if they set her apart from the snarling horrors outside, she’d lean into it for now.

"Listen, I'm not looking to start a fight," she said, keeping her voice even. "I just need to know where I am and how to survive in this hellhole. I’m not going back out there and getting caught by whatever’s waiting for me." She motioned behind her. “So come and have a go if you think your hard enough” she taunted, “Or give a girl a hand, and she may repay it when she has the chance”.

Kerrigan's claws flexed subtly as she faced the horned figure, his expression looking like she was an expensive cut of prime rib grating against her nerves. She felt out of place—vulnerable in a way she hated to admit. The tension in her shoulders had not eased, and every instinct screamed at her to keep her guard up.

Zalfon studied her carefully, his sharp gaze taking in every detail of her form. His Armor had an air of authority, and the way he carried himself suggested a confidence that came from both power and experience. He folded his arms, tilting his head slightly as if deciding how to handle her. He looked like he had made his decision.

"You are within the outskirts of the Stronghold of the Koff Barony," he said at last, his voice smooth but laced with caution. "The fact that you made it here alive, in your... current state, is impressive. Few survive to Ascend from the Rabid." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But this is no sanctuary. Every soul here has its place, and strength alone is no guarantee of survival."

Kerrigan’s lips pressed into a thin line. " I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. One moment, I was human, and the next—" She gestured at herself, her claws flexing involuntarily. "This happened. So, forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled about being lectured on survival."

Squire Zalfon's expression didn’t falter, though a glimmer of intrigue flickered in his eyes. "A human, you say?" He stepped closer, circling her slowly as if inspecting a prize. "And yet, here you are—demon kind incarnate. Such a transformation is... rare." He stopped in front of her, leaning in slightly. "Who did this to you? What bargain did you strike?"

Kerrigan glared at him. "I didn’t bargain with anyone"

Zalfon chuckled, the sound low and almost mocking. "Fair enough, keep your secrets, but nothing happens without purpose. This goes against our most sacred laws. Whoever or whatever did this… violated The Contract. That makes them either very powerful… or very foolish, and likely not without serious intent behind the act”

She held his gaze, her jaw tightening. "I don’t care who intended what. I just need to figure out how to stay alive and maybe... get some answers."

He smirked, clearly entertained by her defiance. "Survival here requires more than answers. It requires alliances and strength." He straightened, his demeanour shifting to one of command. "You wish to survive? Then you’ll have to prove you’re more than just food, transmogrified on a whim by some bored High Noble. "

Kerrigan’s claws dug into her palms. "I’m not here to prove myself to anyone. I’ve already fought my way through worse than you." She bluffed.

"Perhaps," he said, unbothered by her tone. "But you’ll find that arrogance can be as deadly as ignorance in the Stronghold."

Before she could respond, Zalfon gestured to the guards. "Escort her to the arena for the entry exam... Let this outsider show us what she’s capable of. Per The Contract, every Ascended gets the grace period and has their chance."

Kerrigan’s eyes narrowed. "An arena? Seriously?"

Zalfon grinned. "Consider it an initiation. Or... a way to amuse those of us who grow tired of new arrivals jumping ahead of the que and their demands. It certainly keeps the Plebians entertained" He stepped aside cackling, motioning toward the path ahead. "Unless, of course, you’d prefer to take your chances back outside the gates?"

Kerrigan hesitated, her heart pounding as she weighed her options. She didn’t trust this place or these people—but she knew going back to the forest wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

"Fine," she said at last, her voice firm. "But when I win, I get answers. No more games."

He nodded, his smirk never fading. "Of course. Let’s see what you’re truly made of Kerrigan, human of the outer realms"