The wind howled across the barren hillside as Astrid stood at the edge of a high cliff, her golden hair whipping behind her. The Scale of Obedience gleamed faintly in her hand, its weight almost nonexistent, yet its power immeasurable.
Below her, hundreds knelt — warriors, bandits, mercenaries, and even mages — all bound by the Scale’s magic. A flick of her wrist, a whisper of her mana, and they would obey without hesitation.
She glanced down at the parchment in her other hand. On it, a drawing of a boy — dark hair, twin blades, unreadable expression. The last known location: a small, forgettable village.
She crushed the parchment in her hand.
"Zane..." she muttered. "If you won’t come to me, I’ll drag your ghosts out until you do."
Behind her, a hooded man approached, cautiously. "Lady Astrid, we’ve confirmed the village’s defenses are minimal. Are we to move?"
Astrid didn’t respond right away. She was staring into the distance, where smoke from a fireplace curled lazily into the sky. It was peaceful — irritatingly so.
"Yes," she said finally. "Prepare the front line. I want no resistance left by the time I arrive."
"But... the girl? The one he was seen with?"
Astrid smirked. "Capture her. She might still have use."
She turned away from the cliff, her voice cutting sharp as a blade. "Oh — and burn everything except the animals. I like horses."
The bandit bowed and ran off.
Astrid tapped the Scale again, watching it glow briefly. The chief of the last town had resisted — until she weighed his mana and crushed his spirit. He now led her cavalry, face pale, eyes lifeless.
"You really thought you could hide forever, Zane..." she whispered, her eyes gleaming. "Let’s see what matters to you. Let’s see what breaks you."