The dream came to Queen Seraphine like a gift.
She stood beneath the Tree of Faith, its bark glowing faintly, its branches bare except for four small buds trembling with restrained power. Demons knelt around her—not in chains, but in reverence.
A voice spoke from nowhere and everywhere.
You do not belong among the weak.
She reached out, touching the trunk.
The tree did not reject her.
She woke with a smile.
By morning, messages had been sent. Routes revealed. Guard rotations whispered into the wrong ears. The demon lord listened patiently, fingers steepled, eyes burning with anticipation.
When the horns of war finally sounded, Adam kissed Annabelle's forehead at dawn.
"Take care of the boys," he said.
Jack clung to his leg. Joshua stood silently, eyes too serious for his age.
"I'll be back before the next full moon," Adam promised.
Annabelle wanted to beg him to stay. Instead, she smiled—the brave smile of a warrior's wife—and watched him ride away with ten thousand men behind him.
Far beyond the horizon, the Tree of Faith trembled.
And somewhere deep beneath the earth, a leaf loosened its hold.