Crimson Horns on the Ashen Field

The battlefield stank of iron and burning pine.

She dropped into a low stance as the first rank broke, red skin gleaming under a sky the color of old blood. Her horns caught the firelight. The naginata spun once in her hands, the blade singing, and the nearest soldier simply stopped moving.

Around her the line of black-lacquered armor and red banners held. Dust rose in thick curtains. Embers drifted past her face like dying stars. She could hear the others shouting her name — or maybe it was a warning. She never quite learned the difference.

A smile touched her fangs.

“Come then,” she said, voice soft under the roar. “The field is still hungry.”

And she stepped forward.

Exclusive Version Available here:

Animated version here:

https://x.com/naughty_skynet/status/2117400750284230929/video/2