War Part Three

Northern Wall of the Capital

The cold northern winds howled over the barren fields as armies assembled, siege equipment standing. 

Freya sat tall atop her midnight-black steed, her crimson cloak billowing behind her like flames against the gray sky. 

Beside her, Serilda, her icy blue armor reflecting the pale light, her dark horse restless beneath her, stamping its hooves on the ground.

Both women stared at the towering city walls that had morphed into something else. 

Freya spoke, narrowing her fiery eyes.

 "What… in the hell is this?" 

Her grip tightened on the reins.

"Did that mad tyrant make a pact with some damned evil god? This reeks of forbidden magic."

Serilda remained composed, her purple eyes narrowed as she gazed at the shimmering runes.

"Possibly…" 

"But there's another explanation. A mage—an exceptionally powerful one."

Freya scoffed.

 "A mage? This?"