The morning air of Oakhaven was crisp, clean, and perfectly temperate. The newly reborn sun shone brilliantly through the Prime Origin dome, casting long, golden shadows across the silver grass of the courtyard. It was the picture of an idyllic, untouched paradise. But the men and women standing on the wooden porch of the manor were not dressed for a peaceful morning.
They were dressed for a planetary war.
Valeria adjusted the heavy leather straps of her combat harness. She wore her celestial steel sword at her hip, its familiar, comforting weight a physical reminder of the bloody road she had already walked. She looked out over the courtyard, her amethyst eyes pulsing with the steady, quiet rhythm of the master code.
Her pantheon was completely assembled around her, a flawless machine of divine execution waiting for the Warlord's final command.
