“North ridge. Cluster of roughly 40 to 50 targets. Several mixed-in demon elites. They’re pushing hard toward the grain stores. Another wave of 20 to 30 is trailing behind. Veronica, you need to—”

  “I see them,” she said, voice coming through as the sharp winds passed by.

  She stopped mid-flight high above the town, robe snapping at her heels from the sudden pause. She squinted past the rising plumes of fire and smoke toward the north ridge. Beneath her, several buildings collapsed; the town burned as everything crumbled to ash. Many of the guardian golems built to protect the town were already destroyed.

  The screams of the residents mixed in with those of the demons. People ran between the wreckage like ants trying to avoid a flood.

  The mental link clicked in her head again.

  “They’re spreading fast. The third Scavenger group is falling back to the safe point to assist the townspeople. I’m blind past the orchard line near the trees. You need to clear them out, now.”

  Veronica didn’t reply. Her staff was already raised, the crystal gem on top gleaming with concentrated power. Seven small white wings made of light and mana appeared on top of her gray hand, no larger than her fingers.

  The storm was the first to answer her call.

  Wind whipped into a spiral around her, gathering speed; sharp gales formed, threads of silver light distorting all around her. Each thread twisted upward like vines, coiling into a single point in front of her. The spell circle rapidly formed, vast and layered, humming with radiant cracking arcs.

  It was beautiful. Both brutal, and deadly.

  Veronica exhaled; the sky followed her, erupting into power.

  The spell circle fractured, unleashing a barrage of piercing wind spears. They traveled at breakneck speeds; the air formed a distorted mirage as they barreled down to the ground toward the cluster of demons. Their flesh was torn, bones ripped from their sockets, body parts violently removed. The ground shattered as her magic pierced into it, forming a jagged trench tearing a long ravine of holes.

  She remained hovering, staring at the destruction formed into the landscape. “Both waves are gone.”

  The mental link clicked.

  “Good job. Next is the southwest, a group of…” The man’s voice trailed off.

  Veronica turned to look southwest.

  “Parek? What’s wrong? What’s going on in the south—”

  “Veronica! An elite demon straggled off into the tree lines. I wasn’t able to spot them in time—they’re near the safe point, and it’s about to intercept a pair of children! The other mages are too far! You need to get there, quick!”

  With a thunderclap, Veronica shot across the sky, blurring as she sped back toward the safe point.

  “Ping the location!” she shouted.

  In the next moment, a beacon of light appeared in the sky far away near the treeline.

  Near the orchard line

  Two children, no older than 10-years old, ran toward the safe area. There—several masters were stationed, fighting back the approaching horde of demons. If they made it there, they’d be safe.

  The girl stumbled on a rock, but didn’t fall. Her hand clutched tightly to her brother’s as the two ran together across a path broken by uprooted trees and ash.

  “We’re almost there,” the boy said. His breath was sharp, but likewise tired and uneven. “Just past the old carts up here. Baelan should be waiting for us!”

  His words were meant to comfort her. Maybe himself too. To reaffirm hope.

  With wide eyes and shallow breaths, she gave a nod. Her cheeks were caked and battered with grime.

  Their feet slapped hard against the ground as they veered through collapsed fences and smoke-wreathed bushes. The boy was missing a shoe. He’d given one to his sister, who had lost hers.

  They were past most of the fire now, and could afford to breathe; however, they couldn’t relax. They needed to press forward.

  That, was when the woods trembled.

  It wasn’t a sound, not exactly. It was pressure, a creaking groan. A slow, dragging scrape against the soil came from deep within.

  Both of them stopped.

  A figure emerged through the trees.

  It stood tall, but not straight—its back hunched under layers of jagged bone plating that gleamed like dark iron. One massive eye gleamed from the center of its skull, lidless and blood-hot. Its mouth opened; steam poured out with a gurgling hiss.

  It didn’t pause for theatrics. Instead, it roared.

  The sound shook loose leaves from the branches. The girl shrieked, her feet frozen in pure instinctive fear. She hid behind her brother’s back.

  The boy tore his hand from hers.

  “Run, Ellie!”

  Her face turned to his, frozen. “No, we have to—”

  “I said run! Go!”

  His legs were shaking. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles paled. There was nothing brave about him; he was just a child who hadn’t found a better idea.

  Ellie hesitated one second longer. Then she turned back and sprinted the way she came, hoping to find a different route toward the safe area.

  Behind her, the demon leaned forward. Its claws scraped the earth as it lunged, growling.

  The boy picked up a small stick near him and faced the demon. His legs shook uncontrollably, and tears streaked down his face. Yet, he didn’t run; he stood his ground. All to buy his sister enough time.

  “C-come at me, you stupid monster!” he shouted, both hands gripped on the flimsy stick, eyes closed shut.

  A breath later

  Veronica struck the ground beneath the beacon like a falling star. Her boots carved deep into the dirt as she skidded to a halt. The trees around her shuddered. Her staff was already in her hand, glowing faintly.

  She scanned the area.

  There. Near the edge of town, next to the clearing.

  A young girl sat crumpled against a fencepost, arms around her knees, her face hidden in her sleeves. Her body shook, though the air was still. Smoke and ash buried the skies beneath their smog, the air a haze of desperation.

  Veronica flashed forward toward her, dropping to a crouch.

  “Hey—it’s okay now. You’re safe. Are you hurt?”

  The girl didn’t lift her head. Her sobs came in soft hiccups, shallow and stuttering.

  Veronica opened the mental link.

  “I’m at the beacon. Confirm the previous signal. I’ve found the girl.”

  The pause felt longer than it was. Then the girl raised her head and whispered a name through her tears.

  “Milo…”

  Before the name faded, a roar exploded from the woods behind them.

  Veronica stood.

  The trees buckled outward as something barreled through them. A massive form took shape—spined back, plated limbs, single eye glaring. Blood dripped from its claws, thick and black-red. Something swayed from one of its shoulder plates.

  A strip of blue cloth, shaped, but torn.

  Veronica glanced back down at the girl, sobbing into her own hands. The message Parek had sent echoed in her mind.

  A pair of children.

  She stared back at the now-charging demonic beast. Her knuckles turned white, clenching around her staff.

  No spell circle formed. No words or incantations followed. The ground—

  —it simply exploded.

  A cone of destruction unfurled in front of her, space itself fracturing like an earthquake in a pointed wave. Trees along the edge vanished, reduced to splinters and tree dust. The air shuddered and stilled before the shockwave burst free, shuddering around the barrier Veronica erected across her and the young girl.

  Everything within the cone of her magic, upwards of a kilometer away, ceased to exist. No blood, no gore, just ruined earth and smoke.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The echoes of the girl’s cries resounded in her head, drowning out the panicked questions that came from Parek, wondering what had just happened—at what had caused that giant explosion.

  Eight white wings slowly dissipated from the back of her hand.

  “Damn it all…” she muttered, voice bitter.

  She glanced at her right arm. Gray, and made of hard stone. Her mana caused it to creak, furthering the curse placed upon her.

  She ignored it.

  Veronica lowered her staff and turned. She knelt again, looking at the girl.

  She embraced her and spoke. Her voice was quieter now.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save him.”

  The young girl hugged her back tightly; her tears fell onto Veronica’s robes.

  These were the robes of an Exalted Tier-10 mage.

  The robes of Veronica Everwells.

  The strongest mage in the world.

  Present day - 3 years later - Ruins of Annesheim.

  “Gather,” she whispered, raising her staff high.

  The blackened, polluted skies split open.

  A massive spell circle over a hundred meters wide tore into existence. The intricate, interlocking symbols shined within, coiling around like serpents in maddening symmetry. Wind turned to shape gales, just from the sheer pressure it exuded.

  A few seconds later, every symbol within the spell circle flared. It brought about a blinding light, as if a second sun had just descended.

  From the west, an abomination emerged, its hulking form blotting out the horizon. It was as tall as the largest mountains, its body nearly as wide as the capital city of Annesheim itself. Its flesh, black and writhing, pulsed with a sickening rhythm, and its every step shook the earth, splitting the ground and decaying the land it walked on.

  With a creak of her arm, Veronica lowered her staff, aiming it at the monster. The power of ten brilliant white wings shined on her hand. She exhaled and narrowed her eyes.

  “Smite.”

  Her spell responded.

  Light screamed down from the heavens in one focused beam—a blade of white fire and divine fury. Night turned to day; the pressure and searing heat of the spell tore down through the skies with a thunderclap, striking down directly on the enormous monstrosity. A heatwave burst outward, one strong enough to dry up small rivers.

  The demon shrieked; a terrible sound that did not belong to this world. It raised its tentacle-like appendages to shield itself. To stop the spell from burning it.

  It was a futile attempt; the beam was too powerful to block.

  The spell tore through the beast’s body, searing flesh, boiling blood, melting bone. Skin sloughed off in sheets. The beast’s roar faded, lost in the chaos of her spell.

  When the light faded, all that remained was a smoldering crater and the demon’s charred-black skeleton. Its twisted, jagged bones were crisscrossed in chaotic directions, leaking black ichor that sizzled and hissed as it seeped into the cracked earth.

  One demonic monstrosity down.

  High above, bathed in the afterglow of her own power, was the last survivor of humanity.

  Veronica Everwells.

  She descended slowly, her body battered, her mind and soul equally weary.

  Her lightly tanned skin, once glowing with vitality, was now streaked with soot and blood. Short, pointed ears peeked through her tangled, ash-caked hair. Her once-pristine white blouse, adorned with prestigious embellishments and symbols, was now torn and stained. The white robe she wore hung in tatters, its fabric burned and frayed beyond recognition.

  She no longer looked like the brilliant mage she once was. Now, she looked like a vengeful ghost, a shadow of the proud mage she had been. Beauty, cleanliness, pride—none of it mattered anymore.

  A chip cracked from her arm and fell.

  The flesh had turned pale and hard. It was cold to the touch, heavy with an unnatural weight. From the fingertips to her collarbone, it shimmered faintly, beautiful in the way tombs sometimes were.

  Not quite alive. Not quite dead.

  Medusa’s Curse. A rare affliction caused by imbalance. It was the result of being born with two mana cores. None of those who suffered through it lived past infancy.

  Except for Veronica.

  She had been 31 when she reached the 10th tier, a feat no one else in recorded history had matched. To the world, Veronica was nothing short of a prodigy, a living testament of hard work triumphing over fate. They called her a miracle, a genius, proof that curses could be defied.

  But genius was only what she let them see. Few understood what her brilliance demanded, or the price that befell her with every spell cast.

  Although alive, Veronica still bore the cruelest curse a mage could imagine. Medusa’s curse hadn’t killed her, but it hadn’t released her either. Each incantation hastened her petrification, grinding years away as stone crept up through her veins. She hid this truth under large robes, masking her deformity to the world. Even her elven blood could not shield her from the rapid decay that followed; her body continued to wither, her years spent faster than she wanted.

  Vitality wasn’t something she was blessed with in this lifetime.

  Nor was peace.

  Six months. That’s all it took. From the celebratory heights of her 10th tier ascension, came the invasion of the entire demon realm.

  Now 34, she had spent three years at war. The last year, she spent it alone, now, as humanity’s last vestige.

  Veronica’s staff struck the ground with a hollow clunk as she stepped closer to the edge of the wall. Her gaze swept over the wasteland, her eyes dull with exhaustion. Before her stretched a relentless horde, a sea of unending darkness that would never stop, never rest, never yield. Some were demonic soldiers, mindless beasts—others were demonic centurions, and even a few commanders, all spreading destruction and decay where they crossed.

  The device nestled beneath her cloak vibrated softly against her ribs. She reached in, fingers brushing the metal. It was cold, or at least, it should have been; it had been long since she could feel sensations in her fingertips. The warmth in her body had long since bid farewell.

  The device hummed in her palm. A metallic, feminine voice accompanied it.

  [24 hours remaining until full charge.]

  For a year now, it had drained her in silence; a piece of hope, siphoning mana in the breaks between battles, drinking from her reserves like a parasite. When no demons presented themselves, she gave it more—willingly.

  This was the greatest invention of her late friend Martin. This was the last hope of humanity.

  It was a prototype. A failsafe in case of the most dire of situations.

  “There’s been no testing,” he had told her. He had avoided her eyes at first; the atmosphere differed from their usual meetings.

  “There were no trials, just simulations. We… I—can’t predict how it’ll respond. With your mana capacity, you’re the only one that is able to activate it.”

  She remembered the pause there.

  Reverent. Almost afraid.

  He was the Innovation Society’s top researcher. He had a brilliant mind, despite not being a mage. Although sworn to a different kingdom than hers, they were still close friends. But on that day… he looked small. Tired, even. Like a man whispering to the edge of a storm, waiting for it to take him.

  “It’s just a precaution, like I said,” he continued softly. “Hopefully, the situation never turns that bad. There’s been warnings that the invasion may be worse than we think, so… I believe you should keep this with you. Just in case. It might give you a second chance. A better one.”

  Veronica refocused back at the horde of monsters. Her grip tightened.

  Time was running out. Many of the safezones she had claimed across the kingdom had been discovered. The preserved foodbanks she had, all razed. Even the elven forests which still bore a small deposit of massia fruit had been found by the demons. While she could generate ice for water, food was going to run out soon.

  “This better work,” she murmured. It had to.

  Veronica’s heart slammed once against her ribs as instinct took hold. Her staff rose in a blur, mana flaring into place. A golden barrier flickered to life—

  —and then shattered beneath the weight of his blow.

  Flashing across the several hundred meter distance, the demon prince appeared in front of her. His spear collided with her shield and flung her back like a rag doll. The wall she stood on exploded; stone flew in shattered pieces like the detonation of a mine shaft.

  The world spun.

  She was thrown through the air, crashing down a hundred meters away from the wall’s edge, rolling through rubble that tore at her cloak and skin, until she landed hard against what remained of a broken tower.

  Dust rose in choking clouds around her. The only thing that moved was her breath, shallow and strained, caught somewhere between a gasp and a groan. She coughed, then turned her head and spat the dust and dirt from her mouth.

  Her arms trembled as she pushed herself up from the wreckage. Her right arm was cracked, a deep fracture snaking down her arm. No blood poured out. It was more rock than flesh now. Her leg—she couldn’t even feel her legs anymore.

  Around her, the ruins of the arcanic cannons used to protect the capital lay shattered in ruins. They could injure dragons. Repel armies. Aside from the mages of the city, they provided hope to the regular citizens that Annesheim could never be invaded. Veronica now stood between that shattered hope.

  The device buzzed again, rumbling in her pocket, its voice muted, but cutting through the haze like a whispered revelation in a cathedral.

  [Thirty seconds until activation.]

  She didn’t answer it. She didn’t have the strength to.

  Instead, she forced herself to stand, using her staff as a crutch.

  The ground cracked again as the demon crashed down and landed before her, the impact deep enough to crater the stone beneath him. He straightened slowly, spear in hand, and studied her with a look that bordered on disappointment.

  Crimson skin gleamed beneath a jagged black plate. Horns curved upward like the wings of a crown. He was covered in heat and dread, the embodiment of everything demonic.

  “This world,” he said, tapping the butt of his spear against the stone, “showed rare resilience. A testament, perhaps, to your species. Or just to you.”

  He tilted his head slightly, gold eyes narrowing with something like curiosity.

  “But now you’re here. Alone. Cornered. However, your efforts to annoy our army are to be praised.”

  Veronica let out a soft sound, not quite a laugh, half mixed as a cough. It came rough and low, scraped from a throat tired of breathing smoke.

  “You talk too much. You think that this—that this is over? This won’t end like how you expect.” She stated, voice coarse. The device she held rumbled once more—she muffled it with her hand.

  [Fifteen seconds until activation.]

  That drew a genuine chuckle from him. It was cruel and relaxed. As if he already saw her name buried in some forgotten ruin.

  She met his gaze evenly, eyes steady in the face of all that malice. “Your name,” she said. “We’ve been fighting for nearly a year. Tell me your name, demon.”

  The demon smiled. A slow, self-satisfied grin. “You’ve earned that much, I suppose. My name is Xertal. Crown Prince of the Fourth Flame.”

  She nodded once. “Veronica Everwells.” There was finality in the way she spoke her own name.

  The device hummed louder now, glyphs flaring to life within her cloak, casting a pale light that streaked out between them. A low vibration filled the air, rising steadily toward something inevitable.

  “Charge complete,” the device announced openly, its voice clear and metallic. “Activation commencing.”

  Xertal’s expression shifted upon hearing the words. He didn’t understand what it meant, but he couldn’t take any chances. Humanity had surprised him plenty enough. He stepped forward, spear prepped and poised.

  A pathetically thin barrier was all Veronica could manage to construct.

  He struck.

  Her mana broke apart.

  As expected, the spear pierced straight through, as if it wasn’t there.

  Pain exploded in her chest. The blade drove straight through her cloak, through bone, and out the other side. The damage to her chest, a horrifying blend of flesh and unforgiving stone, was evident; a jagged crack ran across her breastbone. Her knees buckled, but she was held up by the spear, her body unable to fall.

  Light swallowed the world around them.

  Her breath caught, and her brain exploded with stimulus. She immediately grabbed onto the spear, but it wouldn’t budge. The pain was unimaginable. The weapon burned her very essence. She’d never felt such searing, all-consuming pain before; the agony was overwhelming. Barriers had always protected her.

  Xertal’s hand twisted the spear, driving it further, a deeper searing burning of pain to consume her. But it was too late. The light had already begun to bend; it pulled space inward, folding time like parchment.

  She met his eyes one last time.

  “What have you done—” his voice boomed.

  The world tore in half.

  Veronica smirked.

  “You really do talk too much, asshole,” she said with a chuckle, filled with a mouthful of blood. Her laughter, however, soon mixed with the chaos of the world twisting. “And… for the record,” her words traveled, twisting through space as reality morphed. “If I weren’t already half-stone, I would have taken your head before the war even started.”

  The last thing she heard was Xertal’s voice, roaring at her. The last thing she felt was the blood spilling down her ribs, warming her frozen fingertips. Warmth. Finally, she felt it again, now on her deathbed.

  A long, long silence took hold of everything. Everything went dark, as if the universe had gone into an eternal slumber.

  Had the device worked? Or had she just perished, too late to change anything? Perhaps… she really did just die.

  That’s what she thought, until she felt the bushy tail of something brushing against her nose.

  A squirrel?

  It seemed the afterlife smelled faintly of leaves.

  I will be releasing a total of 9 chapters today, and then daily chapters M-F until the January 9th. After which, I will be posting MWF.

  If you're interested in reading more, I have a available!