Lightning struck the pass above, the thunder arriving only seconds later.
A subtle rumbling followed, signalling that the battle for Kasserlane had begun.
Only a few had noticed it, though—including Stella, with many others inside her head.
'You should be there, too. Hurry up and fight,' a voice urged.
'Stay away, you're no match for the Demon Lord yet,' another was cautious.
'Abandon him, and Konrad will die,' a new one warned.
'And going there would only spell your doom.'
Shaking her head, she tried to ignore them as much as possible.
Whether they were right or wrong, hearing them was anything but normal.
Not that it mattered if she listened or not—she had no chance to get there in time.
From the sound's delay, the fight happened at least ten miles up the mountain road. Running as hard as she could, it would've taken hours to climb that high, assuming she wouldn't pass out.
Meanwhile, the camp was in complete upheaval, instead focusing on an enormous dragon.
One she found familiar, but no less terrifying.
And what surprised her the most was that the voices refused to acknowledge it.
"A hundred gold to anyone bringing my daughter to safety," Lord Schwertburg pleaded. With his huge sword and seven feet of pure muscle, he still seemed insignificant next to the beast.
His soldiers surrounded it, spears leveled, but none dared to move any closer.
Even in its sleep or being unconscious, it exuded an aura too powerful for them to bear.
But what they missed was that it wasn't stronger than the duke's daughter between its teeth.
They were both alive, and Stella knew it, even if she lacked her former master's mana sight.
She had no idea she was capable of using magic in the first place—until she did.
But the life essence of people and monsters?
That was something she could always feel, without her realising.
"I wouldn't go near if I were you," the Silver Mage warned the warriors before she could. He was old and frail, but the duke froze at his words—and he did it in the last possible moment.
Before the echoes of the thunder died, wyverns dove down from the mountains.
They came faster than the wind, landing around the crimson beast in a protective circle.
Baring their venomous teeth, they looked like miniature dragons. Sure, they lacked the extra pair of limbs and their necks seemed too long, but it didn't make them any less fearsome.
And with six of them—each very much awake—the gold no longer compelled the soldiers.
"Contain them," Welf barked, gathering the Rogue Rejects. "Do not provoke the monsters."
He sounded serious in the chaos—but for Stella, his voice had a strange undertone.
As if he knew more than he'd let on, and she caught a smirk as he mumbled under his nose.
Konrad's men-at-arms positioned themselves so that no others could advance through them.
Something was up, but having spent so much time away from the rest of the group, she wasn't sure what it was. Did she imagine it? Was she even part of Lord Halstadt's circle of friends?
Did that even matter at this point? With him fighting for their lives, and they didn't even know.
'Focus on what's in front of you,' a voice demanded, sounding annoyed with her. 'That's no other than the demoness. Welf knows, too—and she'll return soon. Get ready.'
Get ready for what?
Screams of 'flee' and 'fight' flooded her fragile mind all at the same time.
The worst part was that these voices never seemed to agree on anything.
Even when they told her something important, the meaning was often lost in the cacophony.
Demoness? She only knew of one, but she was a small ginger girl, not a huge monster.
And since she realised what kind of power she wielded, she was more terrified of it than anything else. Her? Fighting? Not in a million years. And flee from what?
Once the Demon Lord defeated her new master, it was all over anyway.
Abandoning him?
It was only thanks to Konrad's mercy that she wasn't burned at the stake as a necromancer.
She killed people—and reanimated them.
All while she was out of control, and had almost no memories of it.
She was forever in his debt, but there was still nothing she could do to help him.
'The only thing I'm capable of is making things worse,' she argued with the voices, taking a step back. Bumping into Father Alastair, she mumbled an apology, but the priest didn't react.
He was pale and shaking, the correct reaction to seeing such beasts.
Meanwhile, Stella was afraid that she was the real monster here.
'Girl, you need therapy,' a new voice echoed, and the dragon's life essence became stronger.
Her eyes went wide, looking at the sudden movement, but she was no longer afraid.
Surprised, sure, as recognition hit her like a slap in the face.
The voices were right, that was Lady Liliana—and she was no longer unconscious, either.
'Bingo,' the demoness used telepathy, her thoughts chasing away all the others. 'So, what did I miss while I was out? I see Gabby is still in my mouth, but did the main event start already?'
Before she could answer, Stella's head snapped to the side, looking up the mountains.
Lights were sparkling, even if their rumble no longer reached them.
She didn't need to say or think of the words; the dragon followed her gaze.
'I see,' she noted, spreading her wings. That forced the soldiers to jump back, and the Silver Mage was the only one to do the opposite. Liliana faced him for a second, then nodded.
'Don't let them rope you into something dangerous,' the voices tried to warn her.
'This is your last chance to flee.'
She ignored the cacophony, watching the old wizard approach her instead.
"So it's you," was all he said, grabbing her arm, fingers weak and trembling—but warm.
Stella eyed him with confusion, then sought the dragon's gaze, but the monster was already gone. She moved way faster than her size should have allowed, leaving only chaos in her wake.
"Don't let her escape," Lord Schwertburg shouted, as if his men could do anything.
Liliana and the wyverns left, carrying the still unconscious Lady Gabrielle with them.
Everyone in the camp was watching them go, except the old wizard, still clutching her arm.
"She told me of your gift," the Silver Mage whispered. "And that it is your master fighting with the Green Mage up there. I'm too frail to make much of a difference—but I can take you there."
The voices went crazy, urging her to run, and she was close to agreeing.
'No pressure, Blondie,' Lady Liliana's words reached her. 'If you don't go, my Konny boy will die, though. Or if I let this idiot go. But the choice is yours. Don't let the spirits control you."
The spirits. Right. She told her about the voices inside her head before.
The chaotic deities who gave her a power even they had feared.
Why did they curse her like that? What was her purpose?
The gentle squeeze on her arm reminded her of the elderly wizard's offer.
This could have been her moment to find all the answers—or one to bury them forever.