I gripped the first lumberjack by the shoulder and flew into the sky. I looked down. I didn’t have him in my claws and talon, and I spotted him on the ground clutching his sliced-up shoulder. A few flaps of my wings later the man closed his eyes. I didn’t receive a notification regarding experience points–perhaps he’d just collapsed? Though losing that much blood should have killed him, no?

Regardless, I turned back and set my sight on the second lumberjack. One hunter held a bow, and two others had crossbows, none had loaded their weapons.

I picked up on their mutters, “How can a bird be so big?”

The youngest hunter wielded a bow. He regained his senses first. “Load your weapons, it’s one of those new beasts. If we shoot at the same time, we’ll get him.”

I wanted to grin but couldn’t with this beak. Instead, I cawed. And in front of me, a black haze began to form. Hahaha, how can I be so strong? Was this what passed through the lich’s mind back then? No wonder Feodor lashed out at me; how could a being lose to a beast? It shouldn’t be possible.

These animals were oh so frail.

Covered in black haze, I prepared twelve rose bolts. When I heard the release of their bolts and arrows, I released mine.

And mine consumed theirs and them. It reminded me of the village, of entire forests burning to a crisp.

I dispelled my haze and looked down upon the charred corpses. My flames were stronger, much more so. It made me caw thrice more.

However, something else awaited me.

Emerald blades of grass began to grow out the earth at an exponential rate until it formed into a human figure.

“I appreciate you getting rid of those pests, but why do you threaten to burn my garden?”

This must have been the Emerald Lady, the one all feared and respected. I didn’t like her tone. First, this was a forest, one bound by no one, my home, my forest. My property!

I formed a fireball in my mouth and as the dragons did in tales, spewed forth flames. The body of grass disappeared into ash. Wasn’t that easy?

But then, eleven whips of grass reached for me. I dove down to dodge the first, then barrel-rolled to escape to second, third, and fourth whips.

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A few snaps resounded and a burning sensation spread through my underside. I spread my wings and flapped them a few times to gain altitude, but I couldn’t climb high enough. The Emerald Lady had probably fractured my left wing, I couldn't be sure. I used all my mana to heal myself while flying up. Two whips reached for my tail, but I managed to climb out of their reach. I remained high and flew to the city.

#

Once I reached the outskirts of the slums, I found that all their huts had been smashed to bits. Some people lay dead in pools of blood, slashed in two. It seemed that the Emerald Lady didn’t lash out only at me.

But she couldn’t punish all the citizens of the kingdom. The further I flew into the city the less damaged were the buildings and people.

Soon I found a military outpost and knights getting dressed in their gambesons, chainmail, and plated armour. In the front of their formation, men at arms stood, and further up, peasants held cheap spears.

Above the capital, I dove down and beelined for the castle. I noticed that a segment of the castle’s wall was a lighter grey. I remembered that this was the location of the clinic where Father died.

I headed down and flew, beak first, into the wall. I spread my wings to stop my fall. On the ground, I transformed back into a human, my tunics were gone, now replaced with a purplish black toga. I passed my hands on it; it didn’t seem like a piece of clothing, but a part of me–these were my feathers. The sceptre was in my hands and the red sword in its scabbard on my waist.

I headed for the throne room, but before I got in two steps, knights and guards came running into the clinic.

They were led by the knight who ordered the murder of my Father.

“Julian?” he muttered.

The tiles in the clinic hadn’t been replaced and the earth Father used to grow the plants which defended me remained uncovered. A few weeds had even begun to grow in these patches of earth.

“Who’s wearing the crown?” I asked.

“Go back Julian,” said the knight. “His majesty Julian the IX let you go. You don’t need to die, we’re busy enough with other issues.”

I shook my head. “The kingdom of Rosalia, the title Julian IX, your lives. Those are all mine.”

The roots from the ground began to grow at my command. They grew larger and thicker, they exploded into the room and loomed over the pretender’s men.

Some knights brandished their shields, others invoked magic and tried to cut the roots with wind. This only dented the roots which snaked in the air before crashing down and skewering half the men.

The rest ran away.

I ran after them into the hallway. There, High-humans in newly minted armor stood guard. It didn’t matter, they were nothing. The trunk-like roots followed me. From the main root, offshoots sprouted, and tiny rose flowers bloomed. Out of these flowers, rose seeds shot out.

The guards jumped out their trajectory, but when these seeds hit the doors to the throne room they exploded, and the massive planks of wood burst into thousands of splinters which peppered the High-human guards and knights where they weren’t armoured up. A few who could still stand invoked spells, but before they could attack me or heal themselves roots stabbed them in their hearts. The metal they wore were no match for my magic.

Nearly all who stood before me had been swept away in a few instants. This was the power of beinghood. A gift some may say. Compensation for a hollow heart others would claim.

The smoke from the door’s explosion cleared and my eyes set on what lay behind it.

First, I saw the throne.

Then the outline of a figure.