An Empire's army, every soldier unable to abandon their King, for they knew he was their leader, their loyalty uncompromising even unto death.
The Prophet was not the King but still their leader.
Eight hundred years of time, eight hundred years of guardianship.
Worthy of their battle for her.
Sali was the first to charge out.
But it was Qin Yu, who was further away, whose actions were most effective.
She clenched the magic staff in both hands, spells coming forth from her lips.
Within the dark water wall, the Prophet had prepared for sacrifice, for she knew her death was not true death, but she wanted Sali and the others to regard it lightly, not to rush to their deaths; yet before she could react, she saw great patches of green sprouting from both sides of her body.
Green turned to branches, branches to vines, vines formed a net of wings, holding back the tensed dark water wall from pulling the Prophet into Moros Hell.
It tore a fissure.