Traveling alone during a Heavenswar was suicide for most demons, but not for Amarena.
She liked being able to set her own pace. To pick her own fights.
Like the fight she was having with a pyrean murderhorn.
The monstrous form of a former unicorn, the beast before her was a massive specimen, clearly marked by the magics of its snowy yet volcanic environment.
Amarena chuckled to herself, her hands tensing around the handle of her sword as the murderhorn lowered its head, a swelling of mana rising to its very tip before a shrieking, billowing cone of flame flew toward her.
Amarena's initial temptation was not to dodge. After all, what was mundane fire compared to the heat of hell? But at the last moment she spotted the hint of blue at the center of the cone, a deadly beam of magical ice had been hiding within the cone, and following her instincts led her to drop to her side as the blast of magic passed where she had been.