The battlefield lay shrouded in an unnatural, oppressive silence as Countess Leona and her soldiers advanced, their faces grim with resolve. Falko stood at the far end of the forest his silhouette cast in the dim glow of sunlight. Shadows danced around him, warping his familiar features into something cold and foreign, as though he were no longer the young man she once knew. The creature that wore Falko's face was something more sinister—something not quite human.
Leona's heart clenched painfully, but her resolve didn't falter. She had made her choice. Even if it meant her daughter would hate her forever, even if Shalana and Rhea would curse her name, she couldn't let this twisted creature escape. This was her duty.
"Mages," she commanded, her voice steely, "cast the anti-magic spells now! We're ending this here."
