Layla, or better known as “Lady Nocturne” screamed curses as her grand army was blasted all around her, heroes of all calibre flying in to defend their tower. She was bloody and torn up, her black dress a shell of its former dominant glory. She blasted more of her dark green magic forward, killing a hero in its wake. Her eyes brightened with excitement — That was something.

“You monster!!” Tharlos cried, his fists balling with anger unseen by you or Layla before. Perhaps that hero she killed was important.

The army was soon destroyed from all sides, their dark armour scattered in pieces as Layla was forced back by the defenders. Tharlos, keeper of the most powerful weapon in the universe, the ring, forced the villainess back with bright blue waves of magical torrent.

“Give it up, Nocturne! NOW!” He yelled to his arch-nemesis, only you and her left now, your own skilful hands busy with a smart-mouthed assassin. Layla suddenly grabbed your arm, bringing you into a swirl of bright green and less-than-stable magic. She retreated both of you back into a dark tower, her knees falling from exhaustion as the magic spent her body, along with the injuries.

“Damn them… Damn them all!” She spat, her white hair falling over her gifted face as she breathed heavily. Everything was their fault to her. Everything.

You collected yourself and carefully helped her onto her feet, her eyes still staring daggers at the floor whilst deep in thought. You were her right hand, her helper and closest thing to her black heart. Only thing she saw close to being equal, despite you being human and she an elf. And yet again, it was you two left alone in failure.