“No.”

 “What is it? What happened?” Aldrik rushed over.

 “Don’t touch me!” She stopped him at arm’s length. Too much had happened in those few seconds, and she needed to come to terms with it all.

 “Vhalla—”

 “Not now,” she grit out.

 His brow furrowed and he frowned in concern. But they were here to do a job, and they both knew it. Aldrik’s expression shifted as he visually invoked his training as both a leader and a lord to the forefront. “Can you open it?”

 “I can do one better.” Vhalla pushed herself to her feet, clenching her fists. There was a deep pleasure coursing through her in the realization of new knowledge gained. She just wished she could say for certain it was her own.

 “You’re trembling,” he whispered.

 “I’ll be fine.” Vhalla hoped saying it would make it true.

 The power within her rumbled as Vhalla stared the wall. Vhalla turned and marched back to her steed, mounting Lightning with confidence. She gripped the reins, hatred bubbling deep within her.

 “Men and women of the Empire Solaris!” she shouted. The soldiers snapped to attention, near and far, as the wind carried her voice across the field. Aldrik mounted next to her. “Behind this wall is our land. For some of you, it is home. For others, it is the home of your children or your forefathers. The wall is a scar upon our Empire—when I remove it, you will push forward and you will kill every man, woman, and monster who does not mark themselves loyal to the true Emperor of this land!”

 With cheers of bloodlust at her back, Vhalla returned her attention to the wall, summoning every ounce of her strength and of the new found understanding she’d gained of the dark Channel that now lived within her. Victor had made this wall. And if he could make it, she could tear it down.

 Vhalla raised her hands slowly, shifting her magic. She thought of the crystal forces she had felt, of the madman’s magic lying underneath it. She loathed the moment foreign magic churned within her, responding, bubbling up through her hands. Vhalla grimaced.

 Pure energy flew from her fingertips to the center of the gate. It was shapeless and colorless. The only time Vhalla had seen magic of its nature was in the North and in the Crystal Caverns.

 Aldrik’s lips parted, and he looked away from the cracking gate. He focused only on her as the earth cried out in a monumental groan. He’d recognized the sorcery. It had been used on him as well. The Emperor shook his head slowly, horror spinning panic within his eyes. He knew, he had to know what now existed within her.

 “To kill a monster, you must become one yourself.” It was all she could confess to the man she loved. Deep within her, rage spiraled out of control. Victor knew what she had done and could feel what it meant.

 “Vhalla—” Her name on Aldrik’s lips was a pained and strangled whine.

 “There’s no time now.” Vhalla turned back to the gate. Cracks raced to be the first to the top. Large stones began to loosen and fall as the magic of the crystals faded and fell dormant. The gate crumbled, and the whole wall began to topple like dominos following. “We have a war to fight.”

 “Later.” He grabbed her forearm. Her resolve cracked at the wild concern in his eyes. “This will not just fade away unspoken.”

 “Later.” Vhalla tried to coax her voice into being as gentle as possible, which was difficult when a foreign feeling of loathing began to mix with the cries of battle.

 Aldrik pulled away, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. He turned sharply toward the startled encampment on the other side of the gate and rained fire down on the enemy. Vhalla’s eyes were alight with the flames as she heard the symphony of dying screams.

 Kicking Lightning’s sides, Vhalla rushed to the head of the charge. For the first time in her life, it was she who raced forward with an army at her back. Vhalla held out her right hand and swept it to the side before quickly repeating the process with the left. The rubble cleared for those behind her, making a path along the Great Imperial Way.

 Victor’s monsters and men were fending off the inferno Aldrik reaped upon them. The fire vanished when she crossed the line where the wall had been moments before.

 “Swear fealty to the Solaris Empire, and you will be spared!” she cried. “Strike an ‘X’ into the black of your armor or clothes so that we may know who stands with the sun!”

 “Long live the Supreme King Victor!” one sorcerer spat.

 He didn’t have time to even raise his hand before an icicle impaled him. Vhalla glanced over her shoulder, looking for Fritz.

 One or two of Victor’s soldiers attempted to accept her offer, hastily scratching a large ‘X’ onto their makeshift armor. It was an army enslaved, and their loyalty only went so far. But these had mostly become Victor’s men. Whatever the false king had promised must have been tempting, because more sorcerers quickly turned on their allies, killing any who would try to return their loyalty to Solaris.

 Vhalla kept charging forward. At the least, they could use the momentary confusion to their advantage. But for every one conscious sorcerer, there were five more tainted, mad, and under Victor’s control. Her attempt had been made, but it was a fairly futile one.

 Fire combusted by her side, and Vhalla barely had enough time to ditch the horse and roll. The smell of singed fur assaulted her senses, but she had more pressing matters than checking if her trusty steed was well. A sorcerer was upon her. With a gleaming sharp ice dagger, he slashed into the ground by her face.

 Vhalla threw up an arm, and he flew backward. Just as she stood, a heavy greave kneed her in the face, shattering her nose. She was an easy target in white and Vhalla was quickly learning why nobility didn’t usually lead charges.

 She coughed up blood, surprised she had not lost any teeth or bit her tongue off. Just a laceration inside her cheek. A heartbeat began to race at the edge of her consciousness. It was both familiar and terribly different at the same time, and she struggled to fight it. It was an unwanted and unwelcome sound, a rhythm that beat to the drums of war and bloodlust.

 The man with the ice had recovered and was lunging again. With a cry that was part animal, Vhalla thrust a hand onto his face, dodging the other man’s second punch. Blood splattered the ground as the Waterrunner’s head exploded.

 She spun, wind under her toes, making her nimble. Making her powerful.

 Her sword rang out against its sheathe, reverberating up her arms and into her chest. The sound echoed in harmony with the pulse that propelled her. She would write their requiem in blood. There was minimal resistance as Vhalla put the wind at her elbows to shove her blade clear through the man’s skull, starting with his eye.

 Vhalla kicked him off her blade. Laughter rasped against the inside of her throat. They would all die. Any who opposed her were weak. This was the only truth of the world. The weak would die to form the foundation of the world, the world the strong would inherit. A beautifully, wonderfully, chaotic world. It was only nature.

 She turned her head, and, at her behest, lightning crackled across a sorcerer’s flesh. He shuddered, his eyes lolling in their sockets as his body became coated in burn marks that quickly turned black. He fell dead, and Vhalla turned for her next victim. It was as though the battle moved slowly for her. She saw every pulse of magic from the sorcerers and from the tainted. Each flash of weaponry was seen in perfect clarity.