There were rumors of an army in the west.
Most people would listen to the rumors for a bit, laugh, then shrug them off. Nobody believed that kind of stuff. A normal army, sure. Maybe even a magical one, though it had been thousands of years since the last time that happened. But that? No. Nobody would believe anything about an army of monsters.
Then again, she wasn’t most people. Most people only lived to the ripe age of sixty or so before sickness or age got to them. Most people had rounded ears. Most people were born in this world.
She wasn’t most people.
She wasn’t sure why she had been here for so long. Perhaps it had something to do with that child she saved, those centuries before. Perhaps this was simply where she was supposed to end up. Perhaps there was no reason at all. Regardless, she was here to stay.
Three hundred years ago, she had stepped into this world by mistake. It always happened by mistake, but the sudden misstep, the shift of everything around her. It always gave it away. She assumed that, like every other time, she would wander off soon enough. She assumed wrong.
Shortly after arriving, she happened upon a bonfire. Though, perhaps ‘bonfire’ was the wrong term. Someone was about to be burned at the stake. A cruel punishment, sure. But, she’d seen worse. And then she found out what the crime was.
Oh, that was the issue, for her. The child’s only crime was being born to magic in a world where magic was reviled. In a sense, it shouldn’t have mattered to the woman. She wouldn’t stay long, and it was none of her business. But it didn’t sit right with her. For some reason, she couldn’t stand by.
Before she knew it, the fire was out, the crowd dispersed, and the child in her arms. Moments later, a mob was pursuing the both of them. Moments after that, the mob was buried, presumably to die in short order.
They fled to the mountains. The hunters followed. The hunters perished. Assuming she had little time, she searched for someone else of mageblood, someone who could care for the child.
But, the magic in this world was dying. Too little use, too little care. The mageblood was thinning, and magery was a crime universally punishable by death.
She began to despair, thinking the child she had saved would simply starve once she again moved on, again took that accidental misstep. So she planned ahead. Used her magic to build a small refuge, to gather resources and make their gathering easier in the future. And she kept building, kept gathering.
And she kept not making that misstep. Whether by choice, fate, or purest chance, she was here to stay. Soon, mages began seeking her for protection, as nobody seemed able to best her. Entire armies were rumored to vanish in their searches for her, and soon they stopped searching altogether.
Two hundred and fifty years ago, she had properly founded a safe refuge for the mages of this world. A kingdom, hidden away in the mountains. To these people, these humans, she was a wonder. She didn’t age, didn’t seem to feel the cold as they did, and, most importantly of all, she was powerful beyond their comprehension.
Their kingdom was carved from the mountains themselves, and none could breach the crystal walls she had erected. The causeways she carved, and the citadels defending the city of mages she led, those were a sight to behold.
Two hundred years ago, against the advice of her people, she carved the pass between the mountains, and erected the crystal towers to watch it. She sent messengers bearing her writ to the nearest cities. Merchants desiring fair trade and safe passage through the mountains could take the pass she had carved, the pass her people defended against raiders, bandits, and armies of all kinds.
A hundred years their kingdom flourished before she opened the mountains further, before she opened the mines. By that point, her people had begun to worship her as much as kneel to her. She was their goddess as much as their queen. She opened the mines as a new source of growth and prosperity for not just her people, but the surrounding nations. Everyone who worked with her prospered under her guidance. She was there to help.
For a century the mines fueled rapid growth, and her nation and its neighbors shared a golden age unlike anything that world had seen before. Resources were plentiful, hardship was little, and peace was the daily norm.
But, there were rumors of an army in the west. And unlike most people, who didn’t believe in monsters, she knew they existed. She wasn’t from this world, and unlike everyone else she had ever met or heard of here, she wasn’t even human. Monsters did exist, though not here.
And these monsters hated magic. They hated it far more than even the natives of this world. And thus, the army grew. The army rumors said used weapons far greater and far more terrible than anything a mage had ever done.
And that army was coming. There was only one place in this world where magic truly remained. Her city was going to fall under attack. Of course, she would lead her people against them when the time came. No mage from this world, nor any mage from many other worlds could stand against her might. She had pooled her resources for over three centuries. She would protect her people.
She was unsurprised when delegations began arriving from the west, making pleas for sanctuary or help. Sanctuary was given freely, but those asking for help were told to fall back. None of this world could stand against the army that was descending upon them, and she was well aware.
And then something happened. A delegation arrived, not from someone desiring help, but from the army itself. Surprisingly, it seemed they came with an offer of peace. They had heard of her power, and realized the danger to themselves if they continued. They offered a precious gift to look the other way.
She knew they planned some treachery, but she knew she had the power to counter whatever tricks they tried. She saw them, and listened to their offer. It seemed fair. Ideal, in fact. Of course, she was not surprised when they tried to go after her directly.
However, she was surprised by what they did. Something they used, something they had, cut off her magic. Entirely. Without its use, she could do nothing. Instinctively, she cut herself off from her magic entirely. Stopped using it. Throwing it into the nothing that had opened to swallow it would be a waste. And she ran. Somehow, they didn’t manage to kill her before she made it outside the palace. And then it happened. Her magic was back, but not under control. Something had changed, something had gone for the worse.
The centuries of magic she had gathered could not be held in check. It flowed from her into the earth itself, where her magic always went. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was the ground shaking under her cheek.
When she awoke, it was to the acrid smell of smoke and decay. She looked around her, and recognized nothing. There was no city, there were no mountains, the neighboring nations were gone as well. All that remained was a molten, broken wasteland that quivered and shook with the remnants of the power she had let out.
She had destroyed everything. Her power, raging unchecked, had taken everything she had ever worked toward in this world. Her people, her friends, her allies and trade. Gone, in the blink of an eye.
She knew who was responsible. The army, the outsiders who had such an abhorrent hatred of magecraft. They had caused this. And so she went hunting. She walked off the cool platform that had saved her, and stepped into the wasteland her magic had created. The earth cooled to her touch, and soon enough she had reached the western edge.
But the army was nowhere to be found. They had vanished, taken in the same cataclysm that took her own people. But, she knew there were more. They weren’t of this world, and thus, they were of another world. She had no more ties here, no more reason to stay. Soon enough, she would begin her wandering anew.
And when that happened, she would hunt.
