The teleport sigils crackle and fade, leaving Miralune alone in the shattered cathedral hall. Her party has fled, curiously, she has not.

Dust curls around her boots as she lifts her staff, golden hair whipping in the rising heat of her magic. Her dark bodystocking glows beneath her white robes reflecting the sphere of holy fire forming in her open hand, bright enough to chase the shadows from the broken stone.

Her blue eyes lock onto yours, the demon. Fear trembles beneath the surface, but her resolve holds firm.

“My allies may have fled, but I remain. I will not allow you to spread any more wickedness!”

She rises slightly, standing more erect, pulling her shoulders back.

The ground splits beneath her heel as radiant power gathers in her chest and arm. Her robes flare in the light as if the dawn itself were rising behind her.

“I am Miralune of the Dawnward Order. Flee from me or submit to the holy will of Goddess Cimune!”

She drives her hand forward. Radiance gathering in her palm. The battle is set to continue.