One hundred and fifty years later, Elicia’s Conquest of Melodia…

The Death Knight, Lucid II, moved slowly and purposefully past the soldiers of the enemy who went about their duties and preparations for war, her own armour battered and notched from attacks made from arrows and blades forged from silver, and her mask cracked and damaged, exposing the nakedness of half of her face to all who would look upon her shame. Her jailors led the way, armoured in regalia of white and gold, their armaments made from the same accursed silver that had left their marks upon her armour, with her weapons in their custody.

Now, the battle was done. And possibly, the greater war at large. On the Prince’s orders, the army of Oasis, gathered up from his royal guard and the tithes of soldiers and mercenaries provided by the gang lords and the merchant princes under him, had marched up north with his death knights at the helm to deal with the upstart warlord, the one the humans called Elicia. In the battles that followed, she and her fellow death knights had been cut down despite their strength and valour, despite their mastery of the darker powers that once safeguarded this land of eternal night. To the best of her knowledge, only she and Athena remained, and she had done the unthinkable when her friend lay dying behind her as the enemy closed in – she had capitulated, if only for the both of them to survive.

Truly, the enemy was far too strong, their numbers legion. She had seen it first-hand – mortal soldiers marched fearlessly alongside humans and elves with golden eyes bearing holy light that seared both the living and the dead upon the field of battle. But perhaps, worst of all, they were assisted every step of the way by burning monstrosities and aberrations of flesh and blood horrifying enough to give even someone like herself pause – for they were, clearly, a product of the Corruption that had ravaged the world up north, in a war between humans and elves that her kingdom had stayed out of as best they could despite their obligations to the Alyssian Empire, being ever wary of the rumours of the Emperor’s madness. And there had been so many of these monsters, with so many more to replace those who had fallen in battle – a seemingly unending horde of otherworldly fiends.

The Hellbourne, was that they were called? She had heard this word fearfully whispered amongst the Prince’s mortal soldiers, of horrors far beyond this world said to be brought forth by the Emperor up north in the Capital, in his doomed war against the humans. At least, if the half-mad and terrified cries of the refugees travelling down south into the Dread Expanse in droves were to believed. That war, however, was over, and hers had begun now that the armies of Elicia had set their sights southward in light of their victory in this so-called Corruption. Regardless, as far as she knew, these Hellbourne had cut a burning and bloody swath alongside their mortal allies, their pace steady and deadly despite any and all resistance along the way. Even against herself and her fellow death knights.

Now, the command tent stood before her, tall and wide like the gaping maw of a ravenous beast. She could sense a powerful aura emanating from deep within its interior, holy like the soldiers and yet tainted and poisoned in a way she could not put into words or thoughts. It was potent enough to give her pause when the soldiers escorting her lifted the flaps of the tent, leading her right into the heart of its candlelit darkness for an audience with their god.

The Death Knight, and her audience with the living god…

Beautiful. Perfect. Inhuman. Lucid II’s senses were acute beyond mortal naivety, and these words rapidly formed within her thoughts as she stood before what appeared to her as a tall lady with golden hair and silver eyes, her body lithe and slim and nearly naked and adorned from head to toe in gleaming gold and sparkling diamonds – a lavish display of jewellery for a being the mortals must have believed with such conviction, to be the pinnacle of beauty and perfection of the human form. For the left half of the lady, at least – the right half of the lady’s face remained veiled behind a mask of gleaming silver, that half of her body black and charred beyond recognition to her beautiful half so close in flesh yet so distant in nature, its grotesqueness lined with bloody runes of unknown origin and dressed generously in velvet wrappings, as though to hide in shame from prying eyes. Ugly. Monstrous. Human.

It was, in a way, like staring into a half-broken mirror. From what Lucid II could sense of its magic, split down the middle between ugliness and beauty, between good and evil, of a war eternal. Between radiant light, and stygian darkness. In truth, as a Vampire Lord, a being of Amon’s hierarchy in a world where darkness and light were two sides of the same coin and yet forever apart, she knew not what to make of this.

There were others inside the tent, as well. Three of them, beings of great power in their own right, standing so dutifully at their lady’s side. They were powerful, for sure. And yet, eclipsed in the presence of their god. On their lady’s left, another tall lady with red hair and golden eyes, nearly naked like her mistress but adorned in silver and amethyst jewellery. On the lady’s right, an imposing figure clad entirely in a suit of armour black like the very essence of midnight, trimmed richly with grey fur. And in the corner with a warm and playful demeanour, dressed in a long and flowing cloak woven black like ravens’ feathers, what appeared to her like a mutant aberration of a little human girl with pink hair and purple eyes, both sides of her head host to crystalline shards with eyes of their own.

“Lyra. Hades. Nhaka. Leave us, please. I would speak to our guest, alone.”

Quietly, Lucid II watched the servants of the golden-haired lady leave the command tent. Even the little one, who flashed a girlish smile at her on the way out. She could not help but note wryly to herself, the lady’s choice of words, and the sound of her voice. It was gentle but strong, enthralling even. And yet, tired. Weary.

“Let me guess…” Lucid II stated quietly, her words both stoic and firm. “You are Elicia.”

“I am,” Elicia answered, before taking one step forward. “You are Lucid II, the Hero of Oasis. Slayer of Tirinas Ergoth.”

“My reputation precedes me.”

“It does, Death Knight. The so-called Warlock Lord is an enemy of my Archon, Terask Dagon. He sends his regards and thanks to you, for your deed.”

“The Sorcerer King?” Lucid II asked out loud as she furrowed her brow at the sound of the dragon’s name, for she had heard stories and tales of his secret Vault, said to be home to artifacts and treasures beyond time and space. “He serves you?”

“He does, indeed,” Elicia answered, nodding once. “All do. All have to. All must.”

“Or else?”

“My enemies cannot be suffered to live. What I cannot have, I must destroy.”

“That is an obsession of the highest order. Am I your enemy, then?”

Elicia smiled at Lucid II. Half a smile, for the darkened half of her lips remained concealed by her silver mask.

“It remains to be seen, Death Knight. It remains as such for your companion, as well.”

“Lay a finger on her,” Lucid II stated brusquely, taking a step forward aggressively as her pink eyes suddenly widened with anger. “And I swear that I will…”

She raised a gauntleted hand towards Elicia, and grit her teeth. Her greatsword and her jewelled truncheon were still in the hands of the enemy, but she still had her magic, her vampiric blood, and her pink sigil. This Elicia was powerful, possibly beyond measure, but were she to rush in and sap the living god’s strength for herself with a Death Coil, she could very well stand a chance. She was certain of this, at least if the essence of a god would empower hers.

“You are defiant, and you may do as you please. But know this, that Athena du la Marteau is safe,” Elicia interjected calmly. “Wounded, but alive.”

“Alive…”

“Bad choice of words, perhaps,” Elicia stated nonchalantly. “But you know what I mean. The occultists of the Black Legion tend to her now, even as we speak. I can tell that she means a lot to you, and that you have been fighting on for her sake. Rest assured, that she is safe.”

“I see,” Lucid II uttered slowly, as she lowered her arm. “Thank you.”

Elicia nodded in acknowledgement.

“I wish to end this war without further bloodshed, Death Knight. The bards of these desert lands still sing ballads of your deeds, and they remember and revere you. For that, Hero of Oasis, I have need of you. So does Athena, as well.”

Lucid II remained silent.

“Return home a hero with my troops at your side, and take the City of Dreams from within in my name,” Elicia offered. “Do it, and I will make you the undisputed master of this land of eternal night. The Prince’s wealth, his supplicants, you will have it all. You, the Hero of Oasis, will rule this land as my Archon.”

For a moment, Lucid II considered Elicia’s words. The Prince was wealthy beyond measure, and he and his predecessors had lived over the centuries amidst all the mortal pleasures one could ever dream of, forever protected by their pact forged with the Dark Goddess, from centuries past. For decades, in her heart of hearts, she had grown to resent this arrangement after learning the true extent of what it meant for the people she had sworn to protect in her ascended position, for Amon’s thirst for blood was unending. But doing this would change it all, possibly break the pact with the Dark Goddess. The people would be saved, and she would richly rewarded by her new patron. It would all be thanks to her. And yet, her lips could only form the words of one burning question.

“Will Athena be safe?”

“You will have her, and you will have it all,” Elicia stated, once again. “Everything you desire. They will all kneel at your feet, so long as you kneel at mine.”

Quietly, and slowly, the Death Knight, the Hero of Oasis, Lucid II, bent her knee and knelt before the living god of humanity. For the sake of her beloved, it could be done.