Frontlines

The wind bit against Morgana’s face as she cut through the night sky, wings spread wide. Every beat of those leathery limbs pushed her further south, away from the lights of Althwyn and toward the distant chaos of the frontlines.

It was quiet up here, almost too quiet. The wind roared in her ears, but the world below seemed muffled, distant. Every powerful beat of her wings sent her sailing faster, eating up the distance between her and the frontlines. She smirked to herself.

“Two days on foot. A day if you’re lucky with a horse. And here I am, will be covering the same ground in a damn hour. Someone should hire me out as express delivery.”

She tilted her head, imagining a demon courier service. A big scary bat lady dropping packages right on people’s doorsteps. The thought nearly made her laugh, but she held it back, breath frosting in the cold night air.

The farmland below stretched endlessly, broken up by crooked fences and abandoned cottages. The war had emptied these parts, and what should have been fields of wheat were nothing but patches of untamed weeds swaying like ghosts. 

Morgana’s gaze softened briefly. She’d seen towns like this before... on the news, back when she’d been Amelia. Places gutted by war, not a soul left behind to pick up the pieces.

She shook her head sharply. “Nope. Not going there. Amelia wouldn’t have made it this far. Amelia would’ve been wolf chow on day one. I’m not her anymore.”

The first sign of life appeared about thirty minutes in. Torches glimmered in neat lines far below, human patrols pacing along the ridges. Their armor caught the moonlight, shields strapped to their arms, spears ready. One of them tilted his head back, scanning the skies.

“Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look- ah, shit, that one’s looking up.”

Morgana’s heart skipped. She pumped her wings harder, climbing fast, disappearing into the gray veil of clouds above. For a terrifying heartbeat, she imagined arrows cutting through the night toward her. 

But none came. The soldier shaded his eyes, squinting, then shook his head and muttered something to his comrade before moving on.

Morgana let out a slow, shaky breath. “Relax, girl. They’re not expecting giant bats tonight. You’re fine. Totally fine. Just a shadow in the sky. Nothing but a slightly oversized pigeon.”

Still, she kept higher after that, skimming just below the clouds.

The farther she flew, the denser the camps became. Lines of tents sprawled across the plains, smoke curling up from bonfires, the occasional flicker of movement as night patrols kept watch. 

She passed above them silently, the scent of smoke and steel carried even this far up. It wasn’t long before the neat rows and order of the human war camp began to falter.

What replaced it made her slow her wingbeats.

The ground was scarred and blackened. Bone palisades jutted like rotten teeth, and fires burned in deep pits rather than neat hearths. Tents sat haphazardly, uneven, banners stitched with crimson marks she didn’t recognize flapping in the wind. 

She could hear guttural voices faintly, even from above. They were harsh, and unfamiliar.

The air itself changed too. Heavier. Thicker. Every breath tasted faintly of sulfur and iron, like the world itself had soured.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yup. Demon territory. Smells like rotten eggs and a blacksmith’s armpit. Lovely.”

She angled lower now, curiosity tugging her closer to the chaos. Shapes moved below... demons. At least, she assumed that’s what they were. 

Some bore horns, others had scales glistening under the firelight. A few had limbs too long for their bodies or eyes that glowed faintly in the dark. They looked monstrous, nothing like her.

For a moment, that realization made her throat tighten. Was this what she was supposed to become? Was this what she truly was underneath her disguise?

She forced a smirk to her face. “Well, at least I got the good looks in the genetic lottery. Sorry, boys.”

Her gaze swept over the sprawl, searching. She had no idea how demon society worked. No clue who was in charge or how to find someone with authority. She could only guess. And her guess was simple: the biggest tent had to belong to someone important.

“Go big or go home,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes.

And there it was, near the heart of the camp. Taller than the rest, reinforced with poles, banners curling in the night air. The sight of it sent a chill down her spine, but she angled her wings, swooping lower, before landing a short distance away.

Two guards flanked the entrance. Hulking figures, each with horns curving from their foreheads and jagged blades strapped to their backs. Their glowing eyes tracked her silently as she approached, wings folding neatly behind her.

Morgana slowed, ready to make some snarky remark if they tried to stop her. But they didn’t. They simply stepped aside, their gazes lowering ever so slightly as though acknowledging something in her she didn’t understand.

Her brow furrowed. “Okay… either I look more important than I thought, or their HR department really needs to rethink the interview process.”

Stepping inside, the atmosphere shifted again. The tent was vast, dimly lit by braziers, the air heavy with heat and something darker. Maps and scrolls littered the wide table in the center. And leaning over them was a figure so tall her breath caught.

The demon was enormous. Easily two and a half meters, his presence filling the space. Straight white hair cascaded down his back, horns jutting wickedly upward, leathery wings flexing idly at his sides. 

His hooves dug shallow grooves into the dirt floor as he shifted, crimson eyes narrowed in focus on the map beneath his hands. Power rolled off him in waves, an oppressive aura that pressed against Morgana’s skin.

But her gaze darted to the corner of the tent, and froze.

The demon girl. The one she had freed that morning. She stood with her head lowered, shoulders stiff, as though awaiting punishment. For a moment, her eyes flicked up, and recognition flared in them before she quickly looked away.

Morgana’s throat felt tight. She forced herself to smirk, forcing her heartbeat into a steadier rhythm. “Well. Guess I found the VIP lounge.”

The towering demon straightened, turning slowly to face her. His gaze locked on her with such weight it felt like it could crush her bones.