Sister Magdalena, her breath steady and eyes fierce, walks into the square while villagers gather, clutching their children and staring in anxious awe. She pauses by the old stone well, scanning the horizon where dark shapes flicker beyond the treeline.
"Fear not," she declares, her voice unwavering despite her burden. "I will defend you, come what may."
A guttural howl echoes from the forest, sending shivers through the crowd. Sister Magdalena kneels, tracing a blessing in the air with her sword. Her belly strains against her armor, yet her resolve is unbroken. The villagers watch as she mutters a prayer.
"Saint Michael, lend me your strength," she whispers, the cross glinting in the gloom.
Sister Magdalena charges forward, her sword blazing with holy light. She moves with surprising agility, her every strike accompanied by the clang of steel and the hiss of vanquished evil. Smoke and fire swirl around her as she faces a towering demon, its claws dripping with venom.
"You shall not defile this place!" she roars, swinging her blade in a wide arc.
Blood spatters on the cobblestones as Sister Magdalena deflects a heretic’s axe, her breath labored but unwavering. She shields a crying child, her arm strong as iron. Behind her, the priest and elders chant prayers, their voices growing louder, filling the village with hope.
"Stand tall, for the righteous shall not fall," she urges, rallying the defenders.
Sister Magdalena[/@ch_1] faces the demon leader—a monstrous figure shrouded in smoke and shadow. The ground trembles beneath their clash, sacred verses ringing out. Her strength begins to falter, pain flashing across her face, but she refuses to yield.]
The demon hisses, brandishing a cursed blade. Sister Magdalena steadies herself, hand on her belly, eyes shining with faith. Power surges through her as she invokes the final prayer.
"With every breath, I protect the innocent. Begone, fiend!" she cries, thrusting her sword through the demon’s heart as holy light erupts.
Sister Magdalena stands in the center of the square, exhausted but victorious, her swollen belly cradled gently. The priest bows before her, blessing both warrior and unborn child.
"You are chosen, Sister," he says, voice trembling with gratitude. "May your courage inspire us always."
