"I do not need help, little warrior," she chided, stepping over the casualties of her magic, her robes flowing like pitch black smoke. The battlefield was smouldering with the remnants of fire cast from her fingertips. Zealots from her old order littered the ground.

She was Padma. Once a high priestess, disgraced for failing her temple, and now on the hunt for something that remained beyond reach. A one-woman apocalypse, if given the chance.