"I cannot let you continue to massacre the world, day by day, village by village!" I exclaimed, my voice raw with emotion.

"Then bow, child. Bend your knee and join me once more. We were so good together, we were. We could rule the universe." The woman sneered. My lips trembled, I felt it. The woman was so cold, so callous, so brooding.

"Never!" I bellowed, "Never, even when my body is fertilizer for the soil, will I join you! I have seen what your wars do! They kill generations of families, of towns, of planets!"

"War?" The woman laughed, poison dripping between her teeth. "You do not yet know war, your bones do not even sit comfortably in your skin yet! You are a child who has tasted their first autumn frost and called it winter."

Her voice. My own mother's voice, so void of care. The same woman was the one who cradled me in her arms and sung sweet melodies to me in my night fits. She approached me and I felt her magic working its well, settling between my bones that do not fit and my skin. With the same motherly touch, she held my chin fondly and gazed into my eyes. Surely to a bystander, it looked like I was looking into the future. My mother and I, we share our scars and our hair, our skin and our eyes.

I felt my body work against itself and relax into her touch, only for her to rip her hand away and leave me. I assume she took my silence and relaxation for a white flag.

"Your magic does not work, Haizea, and yet, you expect to defeat me and my army. Bend a knee, it is not difficult. Life would be comfortable once more." Even her blunt tone was replaced with a motherly one, full of warmth and promise. She sat back on her throne and motioned to her guards to leave the room, leaving only me and my mother in the room. Even my army and friends were not in the castle, but out beyond, battling.

"So? What'll it be, Nituna?" She asked, drumming her long, slender fingers on the throne. I truly saw no reason to join her. It would be beneficial for those closest to me, and those who I had accompanied on the way.

However, a voice screamed in me to not do it, to carry out direct orders, to complete the quest I had been on for so long, to end this thousand-year-long war.

Her mockery of my lack of gift only fueled my anger. I broke from her spell and lunged at her, sword raised. She wore no armor, she had no need to. The woman could control an entire town without as much as flexing a pinky finger. The only reason I could break with very little struggle was our shared blood.

I lunged, and was met with a single statement.

"Roll a D20, Hailey."

I could feel the party's nervousness as I picked up my dice, the same one I had been using this entire session. The energy buzzed and I glanced at the DM with a shaky breath. My own mom, also my DM. God, was it a terrible thought.

I rolled, and watched as the dice spun and jumped before sitting still. Hesitantly, the party looked at my dice.

A Nat20.