15 February 2024

This is a direct follow-up to the second scene here. This really will be for the basis of the whole rest of the book. I think; even the antagonist, Mela, is likely to get canned. But this is what the focus of Kyra’s story is.

Though I will, of course, re-write and edit it and all that.

The old demon found Kyra on the roof of the [Mezzer] building. He wasn’t particularly surprised; her predecessor had always favored high places, as had many of the young saintesses, the current incarnation included. “So. What happened?”

Kra started and looked up at him. If she only just noticed his presence, she must have been deep in thought, indeed. “It is late. You would usually be with miss Brinja. Not to mention your claws; those don’t just form spontaneously, you know.”

“So… it is blood, then, after all. That fuels the demon king’s powers.” Kyra’s voice sounded dead.

The old demon’s curiosity piqued even further. What exactly had she done? And why? “No. At least, not directly. But many of the simplest and most visceral ways to inspire fear involve blood, and a great deal of it.”

Kyra’s eyes widened. “Fear.”

“Indeed. And while the stunt you pulled to get up here certainly shocked a number of people, it wouldn’t have resulted in that.” He gestured to her claws. “So, again. What happened?”

With a sigh, Kyra leaned back. “I… I messed up. With all the shit that’s been going on–the church, Mela, this whole damned city–I got stressed. Figured cutting loose one night wouldn’t hurt. Then a bunch of dumbasses saw a drunk lady stumble out of a bar, and…” She snorted and flexed the claw. “Back in our time, we weren’t exactly taught to hold back, you know?”

The old demon nodded. That was honestly one thing he did not miss from the era of the previous demon king. Even far from the demon realm, the world had operated on a “kill or be killed” mentality. Kyra may even have been lauded a hero back then; however, in the modern era… “I take it someone reported you to the cops?”

Kyra shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t stick around long enough to find out. After… after…” She collapsed in on herself. “Brinja started to get worried you see. It was getting late, and she hadn’t heard from me. So she decided to go out and make sure I was okay.”

“Ah.” It clicked. Why the young demon king was here, and not at home.

“The look on her face… It felt like I was back at that night at my farm all over again. Only this time… This time I was the demon.”

Rather than replying, the old demon simply sat next to her and let his legs dangle over the side. Kyra swept her gaze over the city, at all the people rushing to and fro even at this late hour. “I don’t belong in this world.”

15 January 2024

Six months after the seal over the demon king shattered

“...after six months, the police are still no closer to cracking the case, and they are calling it closed until new evidence shows up. Meanwhile, across the country…”

Kyra rolled her eyes and flipped the television off. The TV was one of the few “modern” conveniences she’d actually gotten used to. It wasn’t so different from the town criers, or the theater performances Fera used to drag everyone to. “Okay, kiddos, time to clean up.”

There was a chorus of groans from the orphanage kids, but they obediently began putting their toys and things away. At least, until one of the younger ones, Lacey, looked out the window. “It’s Mela! Mela’s back!”

9 November 2023

The scene at the bottom, where she gets drunk, feels like one of the best I’ve written for this story. It’s become one of the anchor points; the ways I can tell if my ideas are drifting too far from the point of the story. It should be about Kyra, and how she handles her whole world shifting around her.

And sadly, it seems to be the last thing I wrote all year.

…one of her axes.

Brinja’s eyes went wide. “It’s fine, it’s fine! It’s supposed to do that! That’s how the car moves!”

Kyra forced herself to relax. “So you have some manner of beast or demon caged to move the vehicle forward?”

“No, not exactly… Well, kinda? I guess you could see it that way…” Brinja pondered for a moment and shrugged. “Close enough.”

More confused than ever, Kyra settled into her seat. Brinja pulled a strap across herself and shifted a lever. Then the car started to move. At first, Kyra focused on what Brinja was doing. Knowing how to control one of these strange carriages might be important later. Once they exited the gorge, however, Kyra couldn’t focus on anything other than the city before her. It was well past dusk, and it looked to Kyra as if the stars themselves had climbed down from the skies to light up the city. “Is… is that…?”

Brinja grinned widely. “Welcome to New Naothair. You probably knew it as Krotlin, though.”

Kyra set her jaw. Of course the sight was incredible. Awe-inspiring, even, especially when from her perspective, just the other day it was a festering camp with few, if any, permanent structures beyond the demon king’s castle. But at the same time… No, exactly because of that, it served as a stark reminder that Kyra didn’t belong here. That this entire world was foreign to her.

It took another twenty minutes or so to reach Brinja’s apartment. Kyra had to admit, the trip was far smoother than riding would have been, or any carriage she’d ever been on before.

[Later scene, written later in the day]

Kyra knew she’d had too much to drink. She couldn’t bring herself to care, though; at least her memories had finally stopped hurting her for the moment. Had stopped trying to pry their way into her brain, to torment her with what would never be.

She stumbled out of the bar and managed to keep herself mostly upright as she headed back towards Brinja’s apartment. Kyra felt a twinge of guilt when she realized the girl was probably worried about her right now. Maybe she should get one of those infernal phone things. Even if it was a hassle, at least she’d be able to reach Brinja and let her know she was fine.

By the time Kyra noticed the men following her, she was already pretty much surrounded. She groaned to herself and fumbled for her axes, before she remembered she’d left them at the apartment at Brinja’s insistence.

One of the men, a blonde boy with a leering smile, reached out toward her face. “Hey, pretty lady! Why don’t you come with us? We’ll show–”

Before he could actually touch her, Kyra grabbed his arm and bent it back the wrong direction. While he screamed, she grabbed him by the lapel and tossed him into his cronies off to the side. “Buzz off, assholes. I’m not in the mood.”

With tears in his eyes, the blonde screamed, “Get her!”

Kyra had trouble remembering the details of that fight. She did remember it was brutal, though. Between the alcohol and her exhaustion, she was running on instinct… and before she’d entered the seal, she’d trained to kill, not spare, her enemies.

At some point, a couple of them pulled out some strange new weapon that launched powerful projectiles. But they were generally meant to be used at range, and it was all too easy for Kyra to dart in too close and take their weapons.

Once everything was said and done, she stood alone, hands bloody, amid a pile of corpses. She was pretty sure two or three of them had gotten away, but she didn’t feel particularly worried. In fact, if anything, she felt weirdly energized right then, even smiling a bit.

At least, until she heard Brinja’s voice behind her.

“Kyra?”

8 November 2023

Mela’s expression was inscrutable while she looked Kyra up and down. “So it is true, then. You really are the next demon king.”

Kyra narrowed her eyes. “Is that going to be a problem?”

With a harsh bark of laughter, Mela waved out across the city below them. “You see this? They don’t need us anymore. Saintesses? Demon kings? As far as they’re concerned, it’s all just stories.” She snorted and shook her head. “Not that those old fools at the church realize that.”

For several moments, the two women just watched the hustle and bustle of the city below them. Finally, Kyra asked, “So, what now? What are you going to do?”

Rather than answer, Mera simply smiled. For some reason, that expression made Kyra’s stomach churn.

(Afternoon writing below)

Brinja offered to let Kyra stay the night in her apartment, and without anywhere else to go, Kyra accepted. The girl led her to a small vehicle; Kyra assumed it was a carriage of some sort, but she saw now place to tether animals, and the whole contraption sat quite low to the ground.

The interior was no less strange. The seats were covered in some kind of carpet, and they all faced one direction, rather than facing each other. Kyra sat down and discovered the seats were soft enough they would not have been out of place in a nobleman’s carriage. “How important is your family to own carriage’s like this?”

Brinja blinked, then started laughing. “This? This is just a [Honda Civic]. The expensive cars are much nicer, trust me.” Then she inserted a key of some kind, and the carriage itself roared.

Kyra jumped in her seat, reaching down for one of her axes. “What sort of sorcery is this?”

6 November 2024

Brinja knew she should have already left. All the other researchers had already gone back home, and it was getting late. A mere intern like her really had no business studying the old demon king seal this late; anything she could figure out, someone else had already researched in depth.

And yet, here she was. She couldn’t help herself. Brinja had grown up on stories of the saintess Fera and her epic battle with the demon king, of the sacrifice of the great warrior Kyra, and all the legends surrounding them. The seal was the greatest evidence those old heroes had actually lived.

With a sigh, she stopped poking and prodding. It really was getting late, and as safe as the city was, it still wasn’t the best idea for a college-aged woman to go walking around by herself in the dark.

While she gathered her things, however, the seal lit up with an eerie, purple glow. Brinja froze, unable to do anything but watch as glowing cracks creeped along the face of the seal. In a bright burst of light, the seal collapsed, revealing a three-meter tall figure. A crown of horns curled around his head, and wicked claws tipped the fingers on his hands.

Brinja let out a squeak of terror, but the figure only tipped forward and collapsed into dust. Behind it stood a woman, roughly in her late 30s, wearing a well-worn set of armor from around three or four hundred years ago.

It took a moment for Brinja’s thoughts to catch up to what she was seeing. Once they did, though, they exploded out from there. This couldn’t be… She wasn’t…

The woman noticed Brinja and flashed her a weary smile. “Hello there. I’m Kyra.” She collapsed against the wall and took a deep breath. “Sorry if this seems strange, but could you tell me what year it is?”

Kyra didn’t know what to make of the series of expressions that flashed across the young woman’s face, before she finally settled into a grin so wide it unnerved Kyra a bit. “Oh, wow. It really is, you really are…! Ah ha! This is amazing!” The girl froze and coughed once. “Erm. Sorry about that. It is 329 PDK, or Post Demon King.” She scooted closer. “Are you really the Kyra? The one that traveled with the saintess Fera and fought the demon king?”

For a moment, Kyra couldn’t respond. Three hundred years? Already? Though it did make a strange sort of sense. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Once again, the girl’s eyes lit up, and Kyra half expected her to jump up and do a jig or something. She managed to contain herself, though, and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Brinja!”

5 November 2023

Their little campfire burned low, barely enough to cook on. Considering how deep they were into demon territory, it would probably have been better to do without completely, but none of them really pushed the issue.

Caldwell was telling them about some yearly festival they had back in his hometown, but Kyra was only half listening. Instead, she watched Gavin and Fera carefully. There was an odd tension between the two. Gavin’s jaw had been clenched all evening, and he didn’t sit next to Fera like he’d been doing. For her part, Fera shrank into herself, and she couldn’t stop fiddling with the engagement ring Gavin had given her. It was the exact opposite of how Kyra expected them to react after Gavin finally popped the question.

She knew Caldwell had been trying to ease the tension in his own way but it didn’t seem to make a significant difference. So as soon as there was a lull, she interrupted his story. “So what the hell is going on with the two of you? You’re acting like someone died, not like you just got engaged.”

“Actually, I… I turned him down.”

Kyra blinked slowly. She looked down at the ring Fera was fiddling with, then back up to her face. “What.”

Fera’s shoulders curled in even tighter. With no small trace of bitterness in his voice, Gavin said, “Tell them. They’re your friends. They have a right to know.”

At his words, Fera’s hands clenched tight. Kyra’s own stomach twisted,, but she never took her eyes off of Fera. For several long moments, no one spoke.

When Fera finally did speak, her voice cracked. “I… Even if everything goes well, I… I won’t be coming back. Even if the demon king dies, he’ll just come back. We have to seal him up, and to do that, I… I have to seal myself in with him.”

By the time she finished speaking, tears dripped down her cheeks. Despite that, still, she smiled, small and soft.

Kyra couldn’t tell if her thoughts had frozen in place, or if she was thinking so many things at once it all bled into nothingness. Once she’d started to calm down, her thoughts flickered to a desolate homestead, long ago. To the bloodied face her her dear husband, Roylan. To the immobile bodies of her two sons.

It was happening again. She’d finally healed enough to reach out to other people, to care about other people again, and she was going to lose them. And once more, there was nothing she could do about it.

She barely noticed the roar of anguish that tore through her throat, or the crack as she hurled one of her prized axes into the nearest tree. By the time her mind cleared, her own cheeks were wet, and she collapsed to her knees.

Kyra thought back to the bastards at the church, the ones sitting pretty on their thrones, while they sent a young girl–barely even nineteen–to give up her life for them. “Damn them. Damn them all.”

3 November 2023

I really struggled when I tried to participate in Nanowrimo for 2023. It didn’t go well, as you will see.

Three hundred years.

Three hundred years.

Kyra shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d known the seal was supposed to last a long time. She’d known all her friends would likely be dead if she ever got out. But then again… she hadn’t actually thought she’d ever get out, had she?

But she hadn’t died like she was supposed to. Instead, here she was, alone, again. And this time, the world itself felt foreign.

Kyra felt this keenly when Brinja pulled out a small, black tablet with shaking hands. She tapped on it a few times, then held it up to her ear. Considering everything the girl must have been through, she was holding herself together fairly well; Kyra was impressed.

The tablet produced a ringing sound, and then a woman’s voice emerged. “This is the Krotlin City Police Department. What is your emergency?”

Kyra jumped at the voice, but before she could react, Brinja replied, “H-hi, yes. My name’s Brinja Sonorak. I… I was kidnapped by some demon cultists, but I… They… they’re all dead now.”

There was a pause. “I see. Do you know your location, Miss Sonorak?”

“I-I’m not sure, but I think they took me to the demon king’s seal.”

“Okay, we have people on their way. Are you alright? Are you injured in any way?”

“N-no, I’m not injured. The person who rescued me stopped them before they could hurt me.”

“Is that person with you now?”

“Is that person with you still?”

“Yes. U-um…” Brinja shot a glance at Kyra. “She said her name is Kyra. And… and I think she’s probably the Kyra.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Could you tell me exactly what happened, Miss Sonorak?”

So she did. The more Kyra heard, the less she regretted killing the lot. Seriously, had nothing changed in that three hundred years she’d been sealed?

Then, she heard a series of roars and squeals, accompanied by blaring red and blue lights racing toward them. Kyra stepped protectively in front of Brinja and readied her axe, right as three white beasts raced around the corner. Then they opened, and Kyra realized these were some manner of carriage. Men and women in dark uniforms poured out, pointing some sort of metal object her direction. One of them, a tall, burly man, called out, “Lower your weapons and put your hands on your head!”

1 October 2023

When the templar captain stopped Fera and Kyra on their way out, Kyra groaned internally. Logically, she’d known she’d had it easy so far. The [x]’s weeks travel from Naothair to Cathwain may have been uneventful, other than a rare bandit or five, but she’d always known traveling with the saintess would come with complications.

Still, Fera was the saintess, right? Didn’t that mean her word was supposed to be law or something for these churchy types? What was the point of getting stuck with the job if the girl got all the responsibilities with none of the perks?

“I appreciate your concern, Captain Neumann, but Kyra has proven herself perfectly capable of defending both my person and my honor.”

“And I am grateful for her efforts in escorting you here to Cathwain. But now, surely we can pay her what she’s due, and assign someone more capable to stand at your side?”

Kyra growled and rested one hand on the head of her ax. Before either she or Fera could respond to the templar, though, a bark of laughter sounded from the gate. The three turned to find a hooded man reclined against the doorway, flipping a knife between his fingers. “Capable? Like the way you lot handled the [] invasion? Or how the [slums] are an absolute icon of honor and civility?”

The templar’s hands tightened into fists. “At the very least, we should be more capable of defending the saintess than some drunkard off the street.”

Kyra opened her mouth to protest, then cocked her head. He kind of had a point. At least about the “drunkard off the street” bit. From what she’d seen, though, she figured she could take any of these “knight in shining armor” types.

Based on the shake of his head, the hooded man agreed. “You’ve not even seen the woman in action. Don’t you trust your little saintess’s judgment at all?” Fera protested, but the man ignored her. “Look at the way the woman carries herself. Ten gold says she’d be able to take any one of your people.”

A familiar feral grin spread across Kyra’s face. “Sounds fun. Care to test me, Captain?”

Fera muttered, “Oh, pickles.” Kyra pretended she hadn’t heard her.

21 September 2023 part 2

Kyra had always figured traveling with the saintess was bound to come with complications. But this… this was something else. The [x] weeks’ travel from the holy city of Naothair to Cathwain had been uneventful, other than a rare bandit or several, and the fact Fera felt the need to check in at the local cathedrals seemed to come with the job description.

Then the templar captain had stopped them on their way out, with “concerns about the company her holiness was keeping”. Which… fine. It was annoying, but, fair. Kyra knew she wasn’t the most respectable person around, especially when she got herself drunk. Which was often.

No, Kyra’s issue was that the dumbass reused to listen to anything Fera had to say on the subject. Wasn’t she the saintess? Wasn’t her word supposed to be like law or something for these folks? What was even the point of being stuck with the job if the girl got all of the responsibilities but none of the benefits?

“My lady, please, I implore you. Let one of my templars take over as your bodyguard, and let this… drunkard… back to drowning whatever demons plague her elsewhere.”

“I appreciate your concern, Captain [Neumann], but Kyra has proven herself perfectly capable of defending both my person and my honor, regardless of her degree of inebriation. There’s really no need for you to be concerned.”

The templar–[Neaumann], Fera said?–blinked. “If the issue is a matter of gender, my lady, there are a number of women under my command who would be honored to serve at your side.

VERSION 1

Surely they can serve you better than this mercenary? There’s a large difference between fighting bandits and fighting demons.”

Next to her, Kyra heard Fera mutter, “Oh pickles.” Kyra wasn’t sure if that was because of her or the captain, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. She took a deep breath and glared at the templar. “So your brats know what it feels like, then? They’ve seen demons murder their family? Friends? Watched their homes–their whole village–burn around them? Are they haunted by nightmares still, years, even decades later?”

Both Fera and captain stared at Kyra with wide eyes. She spit on the ground and growled, “Don’t talk sh** about things you don’t understand.”

She turned to leave.

VERSION 2

Surely one of them is more trustworthy than this mercenary?”

Kyra’s hands tightened on her belt, and she forced herself to breath slowly and keep calm. “Are you implying I am not as good as my word?”

The templar shrugged. “It is well known that a mercenary’s loyalties lie with the highest bidder. And while I doubt the demon king would be making any viable offers, there are some less-than-reputable nobles who might be willing to pay a veritable fortune to keep the saintess under their thumb. I’m just saying, a more trustworthy and reputable entourage–”

He was interrupted by a snort of laughter from the wall. The three turned to find a hooded man lounging atop it, a nihilistic smile across his face. “You only need to visit the [slums district name] to see the famous ‘honor of the templars’ at work. Half of them would sell out your ‘precious saintess’ before night fell.”

Based on the way the templar captain grimaced, there was at least some truth to that statement. His expression did a lot to relieve Kyra’s building temper.

The templar opened his mouth to reply, but the stranger cut him off. “Besides, your saintess is right. Look at the way the lady carries herself; she’s no green recruit in shining armor. No, she’s a fighter, and she’d be a more capable protector than any of your little knightlings. Probably better than you, even.”

The captain scowled and glanced at Kyra. She shrugged, then grinned as she suggested, “I know a way we could find out.”

From beside her, Fera muttered, “Oh, pickles.” Kyra decided to pretend like she hadn’t noticed.

11 August 2023

Fera’s official recruitment of Kyra. Honestly, reading back over it, I’m not especially satisfied with this; I might cut it entirely, if the previous scene ended well enough, or I might rewrite it in the future. We shall see.

…twice and let go. “How would you feel about joining me on an expedition to the demon king’s castle?”

Kyra blinked slowly. “What?”

“You and me. Based on the scuffle last night, you seem quite strong. If you think it’s too dangerous, though, I understand.”

It took another moment for Kyra to catch up. Then she snorted and shook her head. “Hate to break it to you, but unless you can somehow get the saintess to join us, no way they’ll be letting us anywhere near the front, much lest into the heart of the demon realm.”

Fera pointedly avoided meeting Kyra’s gaze. “Ah, yeah. Um, about that…” She held out her hands, which slowly started to glow.

Kyra’s jaw dropped. After a few moments, she said, “You’re the saintess? Here?” When Fera nodded, Kyra planted her face into the palm of one hand. “What the hell did I do last night?”

“You stepped in when I was accosted by a trio of overzealous noblemen. Really, if you hadn’t immediately gotten sick, it would have been quite gallant.”

Kyra groaned, her cheeks flushed. She took a deep breath, and then she looked up at Fera. “So, let me get this straight. If I go with you, act as your bodyguard, you’ll give me a chance to punch that son of a bitch demon king in the face, yeah?”

Fera shrugged. “More or less.”

A positively feral grin formed on Kyra’s face. “Then count me in.”

10 August 2023

I wasn’t super happy with the timing and pacing of the scene, so the next day I rewrote it, let Kyra show up sooner and get dismissed. I also felt like I did a better job demonstrating that Fera is capable of taking care of herself better, but I think I could do more; perhaps in future scenes. That could be fun, actually. Someone—maybe even Kyra and/or the rest of the party—underestimates her badassery until they get to witness it first hand. …Might be too cliche. She still needs to show off at some point regardless, though.

“...offer, then?”

Before Fera could reply, the door to a nearby bar slammed open, and a tall redheaded woman stumbled out into the street. She had a hard look to her, and Fera couldn’t help but stare at the twin axes on her belt. She ignored the lot of them to retch in the alley behind them.

Fera took the chance to dick around and step away from the young man. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be better off on my own.”

The young man frowned, and his lackeys stepped in behind Fera. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous the city can be, saintess.”

Well, pickles. Why did every brat with a title think they knew what was best for her? Fera sighed and began gathering mana to her palms. It was amazing how often a simple flash of light let her escape unpleasant situations. And if that didn’t work, it’s not like she didn’t have other options.

As she prepared, though, the redheaded woman appeared behind the young man and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hey, asshole. She said no.”

The nobleman jerked back and began to draw his sword. “What!? How dare you–”

The sword was still halfway in its sheath when the redhead decked him, leaving him out cold on the ground, nose broken. Fera was so shocked she let go of her spell, letting the energy dissipate, while the nobleman’s lackeys cried out and jumped at the redhead.

She caught the first in the temple with a hook kick, then stumbled out of the path of the other’s sword. “Oof. Might have had too much to drink.”

The last young man roared and lunged, but the redhead dodged to the side and drove her fist into his stomach. Before he could do more than wheeze, she flipped him onto his back and knocked his lights out.

For a moment, Fera could only stare in shock. Then a wide smile broke out across her face and she hurried over. “That was incredible! Thank you, miss–”

The redhead held up a hand to keep her back, and then unceremoniously vomited all over the alley floor.

Kyra woke with a splitting headache. That wasn’t really a surprise, though.

A young blonde watched her expectantly from beside the bed. That very much was.

What the hell happened last night?

Once the young woman realized Kyra was awake, she beamed. “Good morning! How are you feeling?”

Still groggy, Kyra sat up, then groaned as her headache spiked. “Terrible.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry if this is insensitive, but… Who the hell are you?”

“Ah, yes.” The young woman held out a hand. “I’m Fera.”

Kyra eyed her warily a moment before she accepted the handshake. “Kyra.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kyra.” Fera pumped her hand twice and let go. “I’d like to hire you as a bodyguard.”

9 August 2023

I decided that the best place to start building my “goddess of battle” story — where Kyra kills the demon king while they’re sealed together and takes some of his powers — was to write down the backstory, so I could have it on hand and reference it throughout the modern-era story. I’m also hoping it will give me ideas, between world building and the party’s experiences together, that will lead to the plot of said modern-era arc. What flaws does Kyra have? How do they interact with the world? What flaws might society wind up with? Etc.

She certainly gives off a very different aura here than she did when we first met her, doesn’t she?

“Well? What do you think?” The young man in front of Fera flashed her a grin. His sword was still poised from the impromptu demonstration he’d given. As far as Fera could tell, he, along with his two companions, were all dressed to see who could best imitate a peacock.

Fera forced a thin smile. “Ah, um. Yes. That was… a very fine display.” And it was; very flashy. But “flashy” didn’t always mean “skilled”, and her journey to the demon lord’s castle was going to be dangerous enough as it was.

Still beaming, the young man sheathed his sword and stepped in closer than Fera was comfortable with. “Does that mean you accept my offer, then?

Fera ducked around him and stepped away. “Truly, thank you, but I must decline. I’ll be quite alright on my own.”

The young man frowned, and his followers stepped in behind Fera. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous the city can be, saintess. Much less the demon realm.”

Well, pickles. Why did every member of the nobility expect her to just agree with whatever they said? Common-born or not, she was the saintess, wasn’t she?

Fera opened her mouthe to tell him off when the door to a nearby bar slammed open, and a tall redheaded woman stumbled out into the street. She had a hard look to her, and Fera couldn’t help but stare at the twin axes on her belt. The redhead took one look at Fera, then the trio of men surrounding her, and managed to ask, “Need help?”

26 April 2023

This was fun. I think I do intend to do more with these characters at some point in the future. That said, I would like to focus more on Hanako and Majesty for the time being…

There are definitely some spots I’d tweak in this scene, though. The biggest one is that I’d like to have Kyra have a bit more banter with the cultists; give her a chance to actually confirm things are what they look like, and make it a more ironic twist for them before she kills them in some way. Also, without knowing the rest of the story (both Kyra’s past and where the story goes after this), it’s hard to set timelines, so all that may change.

Notes

Brinja (pronounced brin-ya) trembled in fear on the altar. She struggled against her bindings, but the ropes were too tight for her to break free. With tears in her eyes, she watched as the cultist raised a dagger to plunge into her heart.

Just before it fell, there was a sharp crack, and the seal on the great evil split. An eerie red light beamed from it, and the seal crumbled to pieces, revealing the figure of an eight-foot-tall humanoid monstrosity with horns on its head.

“My lord!” All the cultists, including the one holding the dagger, turned and knelt before the figure. 

For a long moment, the demon didn’t move. Then, slowly, it tipped forward, landing face down on the floor, and slowly disintegrated into dust.

From behind it, a tall red-headed woman in scarred leather armor stretched. “Oh, it’s good to be out of there. I hope Fera won’t mind that I went ahead and killed the thing… if she’s even around anymore, I guess.”

It was at that point she and Brinja made eye contact. There was something fierce in the woman’s eyes, and Brinja trembled even harder.

The woman’s gaze flickered over the cultists around her, drinking in the scene. Before she moved, the lead cultist gathered their wits and shuffled toward her, head bowed. “My, my Lady! Long have we awaited your return!”

With narrowed eyes, the woman simply said, “Have you now?” With a motion so smooth Brinja almost missed it, she spun one of the axes from her belt into her hand. A moment later, the axe-head blazed with an infernal violet flame. “Then I’d better give you the reward you bastards deserve.”

She launched herself toward the cultist, bringing the axe back, and Brinja squeezed her eyes shut. She had no way to block her ears, however, so she heard every thud of the axe, every scream and shout, every interrupted spell the cultists tried to cast before they were cut down.

Things were quiet for several moments before Brinja felt warm, rough hands working on her bindings. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see the woman tenderly untying her.

“Even who knows how many decades–maybe centuries–later,” the woman muttered, “and crap like this is still happening?”

Soon, she’d released Brinja, and the young girl stood shakily on her feet.

“Are you alright? Any injuries?” The woman looked over Brinja with concern.

With a shake of her head, Brinja replied, “No, I-I’ll be alright. Thank you!” She bit herr lower lip, then asked, “U-um, I hope you don’t mind, but… W-who are you?”

The woman relaxed. “I’m Kyra. What’s your name?”

Brinja’s head went blank. Kyra? The Kyra? The goddess of battle that sealed herself off with the demon lord to keep him from escaping [three hundred years ago]? A little awed, somehow Brinja managed to spit out, “It… it’s Brinja.”

“Right. Good to meet you, Brinja. And, er… Sorry if this seems strange, but by any chance, could you tell me what year it is?”