Before Magdal slowly opened her eyes, the first thing she felt was a searing pain. Sweat drenched her body, and her clothes and hair clung unpleasantly to her skin. The exposed skin burned fiercely, as though the outer layer had been torn open, leaving the fat and muscles beneath exposed to the scorching air.
She let out a low groan, her long eyelashes twitching. The first thing that entered her vision was her arm braced against the walnut floor.
Her injuries were not as serious as she had imagined. There were several scrapes on her forearm, but the dark-red wounds scattered across her snow-white skin were still quite shocking.
Her head felt heavy and muddled. She climbed to her feet and looked around in confusion, only to discover that she had collapsed beside the bed. It was a luxurious princess's bed, its exquisite relief carvings filled with the style of the regions along Antobruo Silver Bay. For such a bed to appear in the heart of the Empire, it showed how well the master of this place had treated her guest.
But Her Highness the princess's golden hair seemed to be covered in dust, hanging messily over her shoulders. She stared blankly at the broken stones and roof tiles scattered across the wooden floor, fallen from the ceiling, and finally remembered what had happened before:
The servants in the manor had been shrieking and shouting amid the chaos. She had seen the western horizon outside the window turn a dazzling golden red. When she ran to the window and raised her head, countless dense golden lines had appeared in her vision, slowly advancing across the pitch-black night sky overhead.
A chaotic, heavy set of footsteps had sounded from the staircase behind her, the distinctive sound of iron boots stomping on