Delilah and Dante watched the undead collide with the three nations. The fear that seemed to spread through them was like a visible thing, a fog settling on the soldiers' shoulders.
"If everything goes very wrong," Dante said, almost too quietly for her to hear, "find me. There's one last thing... that could win this for us. And I need you by my side to pull it off."
"You need a girl with a lame leg?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. I've been relying on her more than I should admit. I need her now more than ever."
Delilah grinned, even as she watched undead swords flash and human bodies fall. The din was incredibly loud, even so far away. "Apologise."
"What?"
"Apologise for leaving me, and then I might stay by your side. Might."
"I am sorry, Delilah Coppin."
"Dante," Hawk called, as they watched the undead plough into the army. "Do we join the battle?"
"Wait a moment longer, Hawk. We'll join when they're tired, confused and scared."
The undead had charged in an arrowhead formation - and the ranks had been scattered across the valley.
"Now!" Dante shouted, and flicked the reins. The Opals burned with a fierce light and Delilah followed suit.
They led the rest of their army over the lip of the valley. A captain had released the pack of wolves Delilah and Hawk had captured in the forest, and streaks of grey sped past them, pulling ahead. Black crows were dark shadows as the aerial legion swooped out of the mist above their heads.
Freezing air blasted Delilah and her stomach seemed to have jumped to her throat. They were cantering down the steep slope, the earth flashing past around them, and she wasn't sure if it was terror, satisfaction or hunger for blood she felt as her leg throbbed again.
The battle was looming, very close now. A pulse of heat emanated from Dante's helmet, sweeping over the fighting and making enemy soldiers glance up in terror.
Delilah lost sight of everything as her horse breached the battle. At first she was going too fast to do anything, so she cantered past fighters, straight into the thick of it. She unsheathed Ifling and used it to block an arrow fired at her.
Being on horseback was wonderful - she was so high up above everyone else, and her horse was trampling whoever was unlucky enough to be in its path.
Her luck didn't last. Soldiers sliced into the horse's legs, and Delilah hissed as the steed crumpled beneath her. She wrenched her feet from the stirrups and hit the ground running.
Wielding Icefang, Delilah became a whirl of death. She cut down the shocked soldiers around her while nimbly trying to avoid the undead - she wasn't sure whether they could distinguish friend from foe, especially now things were getting messy. The adrenalin pumping through her numbed her leg.
She felt invincible, and men fell like stalks of wheat around her.
There was a flash of light in the distance as Dante let loose a large plume of fire. An entire legion collapsed before him, and everyone nearby started to scream.
The clash of weapons and shouting was deafening. Bodies pressed in on Delilah from either side, and the wet mud was slippery underfoot. Soon she was fighting to stay upright on the unstable ground. The rain did little to cool her face.
A heavily-built Terran man slammed into her, and Delilah spat hair out of her mouth as she whirled to intercept his blows. He was like a mountain, and worry flashed through her when she thought of her leg.
Fear was a bitter taste. She was not at her full strength. She had to fight her best today.
Delilah roared and stabbed her opponent. She pushed past him, her hair plastered to her face and head with the rain now - and everything seemed to slow down when she spotted a familiar face.
She cut her way past the obstacle and launched herself at Crown Prince Marko.
Marko, it seemed, only saw a drenched and furious warrior charging at him, because he lifted his sword automatically. Their blades clashed and as he saw her face, as his eyes widened, Delilah gave him a terrible grin.
"Lila," he breathed. He looked every inch the hero-king in his fancy armour, a helmet concealing his hair.
Delilah roared and swung for him. It seemed like a space cleared around them as they fought, turning into a whirl of movement. Delilah threw her whole strength into every blow, aiming to kill as memories of their duel flashed in her mind.
"Let's - finish - this," she said through gritted teeth. "You will not get the better of me again!"
Was the battle still in progress? She didn't know. Her entire life had led up to this moment, the moment where she would pit her strength against Pelenu's heir and win.
"Delilah, stop!" Marko cried, even as his strength forced her back a few steps. Pain cleaved through her like lightning as his sword slammed into her side - her armour protected her but the blow sent shockwaves through her stomach.
Delilah sucked in a breath, giving herself one heartbeat to recover before she lunged again. Marko's feet slid.
"Delilah, stop this now," Marko gasped. "Renounce your old ways and come home with us! Please."
"You don't know me, brother," she spat, and with one swing knocked the sword from his hand. She leaped for him, aiming to cut off his head - but an arrow flew out of the fighting and hit Ifling with so much force that it flew out of her grip.
No matter.
Delilah didn't slow down. She collided with her brother and they went rolling into the mud.
Every breath she took was a desperate burst of air as she tried to overpower him. Their armour protected them, and neither managed to strike the other's weak spots. Delilah didn't feel like a girl anymore. She was a raging mass of fire and electricity, her flesh only serving her intentions. She had been forged from suffering and darkness, unbearable to touch.
She clawed the side of Marko's face, opening deep gashes. He kicked her off him and she scrambled for Ifling.
Panting, they surveyed each other for a moment: Marko in sorrow, Delilah in vicious delight.
"Surrender to me!" she screamed, jumping to her feet. "I will rule, I am stronger! Pelenu doesn't need your weakness!"
"Daughter!"
With a snarl, Delilah turned.
There he was: King Gaol, lord of tyranny, hurrying towards his children with wide eyes.
Delilah hefted Ifling into a better grip and wondered which man she wanted to kill first.
And then a roar cut through the sounds of battle. It sounded like a thousand angry lions, or an avalanche about to cover the entire world. The ground beneath their boots shook, and as it rose to a pitch that was painful for the ears, every single man, woman and undead soldier in the Valley of Mist went absolutely silent and still.
The mountains around them seemed to tremble at the sound, and the tremors in the earth grew more violent. Marko and Gaol were gaping.
What was this? What was happening? The Rtko Seer's words came back to her: Something too great and too terrible is going to be woken. Something has already stirred.
But nothing appeared around any of the mountains around them.
Delilah gazed across the field of death - and locked eyes with Dante, who seemed to rise above the other men like a god in his war helmet.
"Fight!" Dante roared.
The Valians, egged on by their king, recovered first. As the roar faded they slammed into their attackers, gaining the upper hand.
With a cackle, Delilah swung Ifling and chopped off Gaol's sword hand in one ferocious blow.
"No!" Marko screamed as Gaol clutched his wrist, his bellowing drowned out by the fighting that had started again around them.
Delilah stepped towards her father, relishing the sight of his pain, and readied herself to finish it.
Marko slammed into her from behind and his arms went around her - a vice-like grip, pinning her arms to her sides.
"No!" She struggled. "Let go of me!"
"I won't let you kill our father!" Marko's voice was choked with unshed tears. "I don't want to kill you - but I will if I have no other choice!"
"Be a man, and do it, then!" she spat back at him, writhing like a snake in his grip. "I want an honourable death!"
She stiffened when Marko brought his sword against her neck.
She hadn't expected him to actually follow through on his threats. He'd always been too weak, before -
A new shape emerged out of the dark, mud-covered fighters. A soldier clad in silver, like a star as he ran towards them, his pure golden hair flying.
"No, Marko! Don't do it!"
Finias's pure cry made Delilah want to either hug or stab him. Finias - she had to kill Finias...
Marko's entire body shook. His sword was trembling.
Finias had almost reached them when a body crunched against Marko's, knocking him and Delilah to the ground. Delilah shoved his sword out of the way, snatching Ifling again and whirling towards her former betrothed -
Dante grabbed her other hand. "Come with me!"
Delilah wanted to gouge his eyes out for interrupting this, trying to drag her away when she was in the middle of getting her revenge... But he looked desperate.
The last thing she saw was Finias and Marko running to Gaol's fallen figure, as Dante pulled her back into the main battle.
"We can return to kill them," Dante promised as he scanned the battlefield.
They were losing. The others' sheer numbers were overwhelming, and the undead had been crushed into pieces, trampled under feet. Panic stole into Delilah's heart.
Dante swung himself onto a horse and Delilah scrambled after him, locking her arms around his middle as they cantered towards one of the mountains.
"We can't run," she hissed.
"We're not. We're going to use the Opals, and unlock the greatest power they possess."