Ivo pressed forwards. Each of his footsteps felt heavier than any he had ever taken before. His entire body seemed to dull with aches and alight with fiery pain at the same time. His vision blurred in regular intervals, his muscles trembling as they struggled to fuel themselves through blood loss. He had started the march again, leading it with Bernard, the strongest and youngest of them all, right behind him.

The Violetwoods felt like a maze of death growing all around him. What was once a comforting, familiar haven of green and life was wreathed with an icy, dark fog that shot visibility down, making every single step a venture into the dangerous depths of the unknown.

Ivo never looked back. He had steeled his heart with Bernard's words. He would not let second thoughts rule his head and make him look back at those that died behind him. He could hear the endless clashes of farming implements against claws, screams of the dying, the echoing, shrill laughter of imps, the droning and rumbling howls of hellhounds, and the skittering chatter of monstrous bebeliths.

But he did not look back. If he hesitated even a little with his body and mind so battered right now, he might never be able to look forwards again. He followed his heart just as he always had ever since he had devoted himself to Morrigan's graces when he was but a young boy, when the great lady had removed the growth rooted in his brain, the growth that no temple healer nor arcana scholar said could be treated.

Ivo could still feel Morrigan's life pulsing in his heart. It was faint, but it still pulsed, and that sound gave him direction. He knew where to go even through this demonic fog. That unearthly rhythm had always led him through his lowest of lows and highest of highs, and he had not lost faith in it yet.

Ivo passed by a thicket of oaks. He heard a rustle, and his instincts flared, making him raise his rake overhead, but too late. He grunted in pain as a club of blackened wood cracked into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees.

There was an ugly snapping sound, but by this point, with the adrenaline of every single farmer fueling him, Ivo felt nothing. But his body could not keep up.

An imp floated above him, its bat-like wings flapping to keep its wart infested, black skinned and port bellied figure in the air. It was half his size, but its grotesquely oversized arms so densely laden with muscle made it obvious it had the power to crush human skulls to a pulp with a single swing of its brutish club.

The imp smiled, revealing white hot tusks, curls of smoke billowing from its mouth. Its big red eyes squinting in revelry as it prepared to club Ivo's head off his shoulders.

"[Nature's Grasp!]" said Bernard as he waved his free arm. He knew the Violetwoods like the back of his hand. Here, the oaks grew short and squat, keeping their branches low. Low enough that [Nature's Grasp] made their branches curve downwards in time to grab the imp's arm, holding it in place.

The imp growled as it struggled, trying to tug its club arm back. Ivo saw the imp's defenseless back and tried to raise his rake, but his shoulder must have been broken: his arm did not move. But just as he could sense Morrigan in front of him, he was also now bound to all those behind him, and he knew that he was safe.

Bernard rushed forwards, and, with a roar just as fierce as the imp's, swung a scythe straight into the demon's back. The imp seized up before going limp, the oak branch holding its corpse up like a trophy.

'Thank ye, lad," said Ivo as Bernard helped him to stand. Ivo watched as Bernard withdrew the scythe from the imp's back with a sickening squelch, a spurt of obsidian blood spattering on the soil. "A blow that struck the heart true and clean. Commendable."

"All cause' o' yer special sight," said Bernard. "I know the great lady'd blessed yer eyes, but didn't know what it meant til' now."

"It is not meant to be used to take lives." Ivo got back to trudging forwards, shifting his rake to his free hand. With a connection now established to everyone, he could share his life sensing sight, which also made up for the fact that they were near blind in this fog laden forest. "But for this night, I am sure the great lady would forgive us."

"She better," said Bernard. "We're savin' her after all."

"It is your words you should save. The Violet Grove is near."

Ivo had half a mind to reprimand the young man for his disrespect to the great lady, but he had no energy in him left to do so. Instead, he wordlessly pushed forwards. So far, he could sense their numbers had not fallen too much. At this point, everyone's survival instincts were operating at max capacity, reaching heights reserved only for creatures that did not even have the luxury of choosing between fight or flight.

There was only to fight.

But soon, they encountered an insurmountable wall that no amount of fighting could topple.

The Violet Grove was a great clearing surrounded by enchanted willows with a spring located at its center. It was one of many created by Morrigan as spots of healing for weary mortals during their weary travels. Each was manned by one of her Roots, and so Ivo had thought this would be an opportune point to reach to perhaps recoup with a Root and their greater power.

Ivo and the crowd of farmers behind him froze as they locked eyes with a monstrosity they had never before witnessed. Though the war with the demons had raged for the better part of two years now, the fiends had never targeted Riviera with their forces.

It was only after when Duvin, a stronghold for grain production, fell to the demons that King Beaumont had called upon Riviera, specifically the followers of the Violet Lady, to beg the lady to accelerate their harvests.

She had done so, and thus, the demons finally directed their wrath upon Riviera. Until now, Ivo had heard tell of imps and hellhounds, the likes of which sometimes forayed into their lands even before the war, but they had never laid eyes on a real demon until now.

A Hell Knight stood tall in front of the grove's spring. He was armored in fire blackened metal fashioned with pure brutality in mind, cruel spikes warped into the shoulder pads, gauntlets, and greaves. Blood red fire pulsed from every single open space in the armor, warping the very air around the demon through the sheer intensity of the heat. Beneath one of his blazing feet lay sprawled the Root, a handsome young man who appeared no older than twenty, his hair and skin laden with withering vines.

The cause of the Root's death was brutally obvious: a flame wreathed battle axe of gleaming obsidian lay embedded in his back.

"Here I was waiting bored to catch that mongrel of a guardian in her retreat. But to think I would see humans?" said the hell knight.

His face was impossible to perceive through his helmet as it was covered in a roaring fire, but his eyes were starkly visible as two glowing dots of black, two concentrated points of raw malevolence.

"You all should have hidden behind your walls. Or perhaps you grew tired of waiting to be slaughtered?"

Ivo trembled for but a single moment before he steeled himself. If he let fear leech into his heart, it would spread to everyone behind him, and he could not let that happen. Instead, he stepped forwards, willing as much bravery as he could into his heart, enough to give everyone the will to follow him.

"Hoh? You dare to step forwards?" The hell knight pulled the battle axe from the Root's body. "Wrath bade me to end all human lives I encountered quickly, but I can smell not the slightest stench of fear from any of you. And I do despise the taste of humans without the spice of despair. I will take my time to make you all far more appetizing."

The hell knight approached slowly, intentionally making each of his steps as intimidating as possible. His heated greaves left scorch marks on the ground. As he drew nearer, Ivo began to see just how large the demon was. It must have been three meters tall, maybe more. A single swipe of that fiery battle axe would cleave apart a dozen of them, he was sure of it.

Ivo charged, and he knew that every single one of his brothers and sisters behind him would follow. If this demon wanted fear, he would not get it. The monstrous brute could never understand the faith that pushed their legs to take steps forward despite knowing they were sprinting into the jaws of death. The faith that made it impossible for them to hesitate, for them to fear.

The hell knight laughed as he casually lifted his axe in the air, ready to send heads flying.

Ivo froze, witnessing not the black blade descending on his head, but the hell knight flying in the air.

Great roots had erupted from the ground, curling themselves around all of the knight's limbs before raising him high into the air.

"You mortals still struggle so? It will be all the more easier to simply accept your deaths," shouted the hell knight as he struggled against the bindings. He exhaled, and the fire around his body exploded in intensity, making him seem like a miniature star. But the roots held on, blackening and yet maintaining their hold.

"This is no mere mortal spell," said the hell knight in realization.

"No, it is not." A clear voice cut through the air. It projected with strength, but the voice itself was impossibly pleasant to hear, evoking the same serene admiration that hearing the gurgling of a spring stream would. "My, aren't you a smart little demon?"

Ivo fell to his knees. He could hear everyone behind him doing the same, their legs simply giving out from both exhaustion and relief.

"Great lady," they called out in unison, all of them recognizing that voice.

Morrigan phased through a willow as she came into the clearing. Her long dress of flowing leaves and vines accentuated made it seem like she floated. Fireflies buzzed around her, alighting her body as a shining beacon of hope in the midst of this despair laden fog.

Ivo paused. Even now, with a hundred wounds littering his body, with the deaths of dozens of his brothers and sisters on his hands, he could not help but entrance himself in the great lady's presence.

She was a being of alluring contrasts. Her skin was pale like ivory, but her hair was darker than even the demonic fog. Pretty violet flowers of deadly nightshade bloomed on her hair, and a necklace of wondrously bright but toxic flowers hung by her neck, bringing attention to the low-cut neckline of her dress. Her features and proportions were entirely perfect and symmetrical. Too perfect, almost to the point of eeriness, as if entirely manufactured.

But it was her eyes that drew Ivo the most. They were like gleaming gems of amethyst, entirely devoid of pupils, making her seem alien, and yet her confident smile was all too human.

"I appreciate the admiring looks," said Morrigan as she twirled to show herself off. "But enough of that. None of you should be here. And you, my dear high priest, I thought I told you to keep my flock safe within the walls of the city?"

Ivo opened his mouth, trying to answer, but he found his words caught in his throat, the sheer relief of seeing the great lady safe and sound overwhelming him.

"Mongrel!" growled the hell knight as he struggled further. By now, he had gotten an arm free, and he was using it to tear away at the root encircling his other arm, hoping to get his axe back working.

"Loud men are simply the worst." Morrigan clapped her hands, and the roots brought the hell knight crashing down into the ground at a speed so quick that Ivo's human eyes did not even have time register it. He heard the colossal impact first before his eyes caught on.

The hell knight lay stunned on a sizable crater in the forest floor, his flaming aura dimming. Morrigan whistled, and flowers black, blue, and purple bloomed all around the hell knight, covering him in a floral bed. The image was almost comical to see the hulking mass of infernal armor surrounded by pretty flowers, but Ivo knew that those flowers were far from amusing.

They were extremely noxious, all of them known only in the realm of myth for being able to kill even dragons.

The hell knight's armor began to melt as the corrosive aura generated from the flowers ate away into him. Within a minute, the knight's flames had been put out entirely, revealing a melted puddle of steaming flesh where before there must have been a massive demon.

"That settles that." Morrigan looked around and frowned as she spotted the dead Root. She came to his side, putting a hand over his back to close up the axe wound, though no amount of healing would bring the dead back to life. She drew the Root near to her in an embrace, planting a kiss on his forehead before picking him up in her arms.

"So, high priest, do you have an answer for me?" said Morrigan as she drew nearer to Ivo.

"We wished to aid you, O great lady," said Ivo as he looked down.

"Under your gracious blessings, we bloom," said the crowd of farmers behind him, repeating their prayer of thankfulness they had said countless times before.

"Aid me?" Morrigan sighed. "Look, I don't need any help. This fool-," she pointed to the puddle of demon flesh and blood. "Was probably one of their strongest, and I eviscerated him. Priest, take my flock back home, back to the walls or perhaps further away, somewhere they will be safe. No more senseless suicide missions. I will have the creatures of the forest guard your return."

Ivo met Morrigan's eyes, and he could feel those purple jewels bore into him, reading into his very soul, telling him to obey her, but, perhaps for the first time in his life, he challenged her will.

"With all the respect that is due to you, great lady," said Ivo. "I sense that you are weakening. With this feat of strength, I can barely sense any life from you. I cannot sense the rest of the Roots either."

Morrigan laid the Root in her arms to the ground before whistling again. Beside the Root, four more of his brethren emerged from the ground. They were as cold and lifeless as he was – all corpses.

Ivo stared slack jawed at the five dead Roots. That was all of them. Morrigan picked and nurtured a Root once every century, and here was five hundred years scattered to the wind. Their combined might would have easily toppled a city, and now, they were all dead.

"My great lady," said Ivo urgently. "This is further proof that we must aid you!"

"Take them back to Riviera and bury them. They were human once, after all, and they deserve to lie among their kin." Morrigan shook her head, a deep frown gracing her red lips as she stood, turning around.

"We will fight with you as well," said Ivo. "If needs be, we shall die for you too. Please, great lady, listen to reason and let us aid you."

"Reason? How amusing it is to hear that from a human." Morrigan continued to move forwards, away from Ivo, away from them all.

"My great lady! Please!" shouted Ivo. "What will our fields be without you? No, what will life itself be without your blessings? I beg of you, do not condemn us to a life lived apart from your side. We are relics of the past, aged such that we have no future without you!"

Morrigan paused. She looked back with a smile. "You are a silly little fool. Why do you think I have protected your kind for as long as I have?

I am the relic here, rooted to this one forest. Your kind is different. You will spread all across the world, from forest to forest and sea to sea with wills and ambitions unbound. Perhaps, in eons to come, you will spread to the stars.

I may perish here, but you are the future. My children, my dearest, most precious flock, live and realize your potential. Do not squander it here for an old lady such as myself. Now go, do as I have bidden you."

Ivo tried to talk back but found he could not. Morrigan had compelled them, ordering them at a spiritual level as her followers to obey her words. All he could do was watch helplessly as her form began to vanish, her ethereal figure becoming more and more transparent as it flitted into the depths of the demon infested woods.