The Holy City of Lumenia didn't look like a place preparing for war. It looked like a diamond lost in the mud.
The Valley of Faith around the city was filled with a sea of white. Fifty thousand believers in rough robes stood close together, chanting hymns that buzzed like angry wasps. They held pitchforks, scythes, and spears, their faces lit with fanatic devotion.
And above them, protecting the gleaming white spires of the city, was the Aegis.
It was a dome of translucent, golden light. It hummed with a frequency that made Mirabelle's teeth ache from a mile away. It was perfection. It was impenetrable.
Mirabelle sat on her grey horse at the front of the Iron Legion. The Legion looked like a dark stain on the white landscape: grim, silent, and badly outnumbered.
"They are chanting your name," Revas noted. He was riding Nightmare beside her, squinting against the glare of the holy barrier. "Listen."
Mirabelle listened.
"Burn the Witch! Purge the Shadow! Burn the Witch!"
