The saying "Those born in Siracusa never leave it" was never more true than the day you ran for the barren lands to escape your Famiglia. The choice of burial rites could only be narrowed down to il camposanto with a bullet in your head, or the lining of a beast's stomach. Staring down the eyes of a massive stone dragon, you had to wonder if you should've taken the bullet.

"Out of the way!"

A black and red shadow flashes past you, knocking you off your feet. You could hear nothing else but the sound of metal against stone, and the roars of the massive beast; running for cover behind the rubble of a ruined church. Peeking out was a mistake, as you nearly had your face burned off by the dragon's breath. The figures, Texas and her wolf Zaaro, fend off the monster with her lance in the left hand; striking its head with her claymore in the right while Zaaro tries to guide and distract its attention

"You there in the rubble. Don't peek out until I tell you too. Not unless you want to be a skewer for the thing!"

The woman throws her blood-red lance high to the sky, its form disappears; reshaping into multiple glittering stars. Like rain, dozens of thin lances plummet. Needling the field, many digging into the dirt, more piercing the dragon's spine and lungs. The fire that was bellowing from the monster's throat dies along with its final breath. Shaking the earth as it collapses. A long silence.

"Zaaro, heel!" The wolf howls, rushing behind Texas before disappearing in her shadow "It's safe, you can come out now. This place isn't for sightseeing, you know. Go back home, stranger."