Excerpt
Lori watched as Emily vented her rage upon the swarm. She pushed them back further and further until now they only seemed a shadow in the moonlit night. Emily would be exhausted when this was through and Lori could not see how or to the extent of Ophelia’s injuries. She could feel the precious woman’s dwindling spirit and worried that Emily had forgotten her in the throes of her battle against the demons and their minions. She could feel Emily’s rage and it was not a good feeling. She was justified in feeling this way but she was so intent on the battle she was losing her sense of time. She called out to her hoping she would hear. Nothing. She called out again and felt the exclusion to all else with which Emily vanquished. She knew the focus of this battle would be historical. Sweet, dear Emily had gone over the edge into a place and time where the battle consumed her heart and soul. Would she ever be the same after this? Lori could feel the changes in her dear friend. There was a strength and determination of Emily’s soul that caused a pause in Lori’s breathing. She wanted to run and pull her away from this battle but somehow she knew it would do no good. Emily would continue until every last one of them had been destroyed. What Lori feared was this: Was there an end to them, ever?
Emily marveled at her lack of exhaustion. She had drawn strength from the earth and slung it back in their faces. She could hear the taunts by the legion of demons and she had become furious with their disrespect for her and her God. She could feel the threads of insanity wrapping its tentacles around her mind. This was the part Ophelia had warned her of. Battle could destroy you even if you survived your wounds. It was if a gene of survival came rushing in to stop a person from giving up, backing down or giving quarter to the enemy. She had shocked herself with her viciousness. She had stopped counting the vanquished earlier in the battle. The numbers had begun to blur somewhere around twenty thousand. She knew she was proving a point but at what cost? Herself? As long as she lived she would remember this battle. Just as fear of her had been etched upon this legion, so had their deaths been etched upon her soul.