The landscape was bleak and shadowed, its dark earth seemingly untouched by sunlight. Twisted roots jutted from the ground with seemingly independent thought, though no trees stood anywhere nearby.
On the highest hill stood a woman clad entirely in black. Her long silver hair flowed down her back, and she wore a black mask marked with deep golden stripes that gave it a fractured appearance. In her hand was a plain sword, its blade luminous, outshining the stars themselves.
Those white eyes cut through the gloom, fixed on the countless warriors charging her. They came with dread etched on their faces, yet propelled by a rage too deep to fathom.
***
Halo jerked awake as the bronze screen flickered frantically in his eyes, appearing and vanishing, appearing and vanishing, at least a hundred times in rapid succession. The maddening repetition should have dropped him to his knees.
