She could hear them behind her. The demons. The crashing through the undergrowth. The roaring. The sound of claws on bark. The sound of something large and red and wrong moving through the forest.
She cast magic.
Her hand came up. Green light gathered— at her fingertips, in her palm, in the air around her. The magic of the Emerald Duchy. The magic of her bloodline. She released it. A bolt of green energy— sharp, bright, burning— shot from her hand. It hit a tree. The tree exploded— splinters flying, the trunk shattering. The blast wave knocked a demon back. It stumbled. It did not fall.
She ran.
