Chapter 1

That afternoon, four enforcers appeared at the tavern. From their appearance, it was clear they were not low-ranking enforcers, but rather individuals holding significant authority. They wore white robes with gold stripes across their shoulders, and carried staffs made of sturdy oak.

The tavern, which was usually filled with the clamour of voices, or sometimes the hurling of crude insults and people brawling, now seemed silent—not a peaceful silence, but a silence steeped in a thick, gloomy atmosphere, almost like that of a funeral.

The tavern’s patrons, who were usually listless and already drunk, were now fully alert—or rather, on high alert.

“I’ll give you one last chance: where is The Storm Queen?” asked the enforcer standing at the front. He was Father Andreas, one of the senior priests in the order.

“I don’t know, Your Honour. I swear I don’t know where she is,” said the tavern owner, his body trembling.

“You say you don’t know? What if I show you some evidence? Perhaps then you’ll have a better answer.” Father Andreas held out his hand, and one of the enforcers behind him handed him a scroll.

Father Andreas unrolled it, then read it aloud: “Exactly three weeks ago, when the enforcers were pursuing The Storm Queen, they had already cordoned off this street, so she should have had no way out—yet somehow she still managed to escape. Do you know how? She was hiding in your inn. Your inn was the only place that wasn’t searched that night. And three patrons have testified that she was hidden by you. That you, they say, welcomed her warmly, and even looked after her. How kind of you. I’ve always admired kind-hearted people, but kindness has its place. You must not be kind to such a vile creature!”

As he spoke, Father Andreas’s gaze grew sharper, as if piercing the tavern owner ‘s very thoughts.

The tavern owner fell silent for a moment, as if reconsidering his decision. But a second later he replied firmly, “I truly have no idea where she is, Your Grace.”

His grip on his staff tightened. There was no trace of a polite smile left on his face. “Very well, if that is your decision. Hiding her is tantamount to consorting with the devil. There is no forgiveness for devils.”

The tavern owner immediately knelt down begging for mercy, as did his wife and daughter. All three prostrated themselves at the hem of Father Andreas’s cassock.

Father Andreas raised his staff high and brought it down towards the tavern owner. The staff did not strike him—at least not physically—but its magical power hit its mark, causing the tavern owner to howl in pain.

Spheres of white light burst from his skin, coalesced into a single massive orb and shot towards the priest’s staff, being absorbed until not even a wisp of smoke remained. At the same moment, the tavern owner’s body collapsed to the ground, stiff and lifeless.

Everyone present gasped in horror at the sight. They had never imagined that a priest from an order that had always appeared holy and upheld piety would actually commit murder in front of so many people.

Among the transfixed crowd, there was one person who seemed most affected by this murderous scene. The girl was only 18 years old; from a distance she looked thin, though in reality her bones and muscles were firm and full of strength. Her long hair hung loose, obscuring her facial expression, yet her trembling body could not be concealed. It was not out of fear, but rather out of rage at such blatant injustice.

This girl was Elara, or more precisely, The Storm Queen, the very figure the enforcers were currently searching for.

“This is a warning to anyone who betrays us. Protecting a necromancer is tantamount to treason; you will undoubtedly face severe punishment. Surely you haven’t forgotten what a necromancer is, have you? They are filthy demons summoned by practitioners of the dark arts. Their very existence is a curse. And it is the Order’s duty to protect you, to exterminate these demons that threaten your souls. Therefore, you must obey us. Anyone who sees The Storm Queen must—”

Father Andreas’s sentence was cut short when the tavern owner’s daughter hurled a pebble at him. The pebble struck him squarely on the forehead, causing a bleeding wound.

Everyone gasped, anxious for the little girl’s fate. Merely being disrespectful to a member of the Order was a grave offence, let alone injuring them. She was only ten years old, but her life would surely be forfeit in a moment. How tragic.

Father Andreas did not wince in the slightest, even as the blood from his forehead began to flow, creating a long red streak down his face. He raised a single finger, and the wound healed instantly, wiped clean.

“My child, are you aware that attacking an enforcer is a crime punishable by death?” said Father Andreas slowly.

“I don’t care! All I know is that you’ve killed my father. My father didn’t do anything wrong. My father was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be treated so unfairly!” cried the little girl named Seraphina.

“Oh, so you think my accusation just now was wrong? But I already have the evidence—your father did commit a crime.”

“No!” cried Seraphina stubbornly. “Besides, what my father did wasn’t a crime. The Storm Queen isn’t a criminal like you say she is. She’s actually better than you lot. The Order promised to protect the villagers, but where’s the proof? You’ve come here just to intimidate us. Meanwhile, The Storm Queen has done far more for us than you ever have. She’s really helped us, and she’s never even asked for anything in return!”

Although these were the words of a ten-year-old girl, every villager present realised that every word she spoke contained the truth—a truth that even the adults were reluctant to voice aloud, let alone in front of the enforcers themselves.

That truth ultimately became a blade that cut through all pretence, stirring courage in the hearts of the villagers.

“Yes, what she said is true. The Storm Queen is kind, very kind.”

“Not just kind, she’s also amazing. Those skeletons usually move very slowly, but she’s incredibly fast—as fast as a storm.”

“Do you still remember what happened last time? Naughty John fell into the river; no one dared to save him. They just shouted for help at each other, but no one actually came to his rescue. The Storm Queen was different; she dived straight into the river and saved him.”

“That’s not all—”

Some people began to speak of The Storm Queen’s kindness. This left the person in question quietly moved.

Elara had never expected praise; if that were what she’d been hoping for, she would have revealed her identity as The Storm Queen to the villagers long ago. But hearing the villagers defend her so openly, she felt a surge of emotion she could not contain.

Meanwhile, in contrast to Elara’s feelings, all this praise caused Father Andreas’s brow to furrow deeply with annoyance.

“Enough!” exclaimed Father Andreas, striking his staff hard against the ground, creating a strong gust of wind that startled everyone at once. His gaze fixed intently on Seraphina’s petite figure.

“How dare you incite the villagers…,” hissed Father Andreas. Then he gave a slight nod, and the other enforcers immediately understood; they closed in and clashed their staffs together, creating a blinding white flash.

The villagers let out terrified screams. Meanwhile, Elara realised what was about to happen. The enforcers had no intention of sparing Seraphina’s life!

Elara sighed; it seemed she had no other choice, she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. She had to do it—again.

Elara clasped her hands together, then traced a mystical rune in the air. A wisp of vapour appeared in her hands, a sign that her spell was ready. She prepared to cast it.

However, instead of casting it at something else—a pile of bones, a rag doll, the bloodstains on a small animal, or the like—Elara cast it at her own chest.

In the past, this had been a misdirected spell. When Elara was meant to conjure the pile of bones before her, it had instead struck her instead, and by the time that happened, it was already too late. The human body she was still using had turned into a living corpse.

Immediately she felt an uncomfortable sensation; it was always like this. However, as the frequency of her attempts increased, that uncomfortable sensation became more bearable. The spell began to take root within her body, granting her strength whilst simultaneously robbing her of her freedom. Now she was a prisoner within her own body—a body that bore no resemblance to any human being.

“The Storm Queen! The Storm Queen is coming!”

“She… has never appeared in broad daylight. This is the first time…”

“Attack them, Storm Queen!”

Although the shouts spurred her on, Elara paid them no heed. Right now, her focus was entirely on how to save Seraphina. The enforcers were no easy opponents; even one of them was extremely difficult to fight, let alone four at once. Moreover, there was another crucial problem: it was still daylight. She usually came out at night, when the dark sky provided the perfect cover. So she had to devise a strategy.

She gave herself an order.

Immediately, Elara sprinted towards the little girl. Her movements were so swift they were almost impossible to follow with the naked eye.

Elara collided with Father Andreas’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground and distracting him—if only for a moment, for Father Andreas was, after all, an experienced warrior. Quickly, he chanted an exorcism spell.

As if summoned, the other enforcers joined in, seemingly reinforcing the spell.

The spell unleashed a flash of light that whizzed towards Elara.

Everyone gasped, convinced that Elara would perish, for no matter how powerful the necromancer might be, she surely could not withstand the Order’s potent magic.

But what happened…

Elara arrived before Seraphina.

“Lift this girl onto your shoulders. Then carry her through the building to the cave, to a safe place. Only then will I set you free,” Elara said to herself.

Her body obeyed the command. By the time Father Andreas and the other enforcers had gathered, Elara had long since vanished.

There was a reason why people called her The Storm Queen. Her presence either brought a storm, or put an end to it.