Legacy of The Enchanted

A "Warm" Welcome

(3rd person P.O.V.)

As the group approached the entrance to the Fae camp, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The dense forest and hidden paths they had navigated for weeks gave way to a more organized encampment, though it was no less wild. A heavy mist hung over the area, blurring the boundaries between the living forest and the camp itself. The scent of damp earth and smoke filled the air, a reminder that they were far from the safety of the open road.

The guards at the entrance were immediately on alert. Their eyes flicked over the group with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, but when Roan introduced him and Taryn, their expressions changed. The realization dawned on them, and they quickly stepped aside, allowing the group to pass. But their gazes lingered on Alex, who was clearly out of place among the Fae.

The moment Alex crossed the threshold, two of the guards lunged forward, roughly grabbing her arms and shoving her to her knees in the dirt. Their grip was unforgiving, and they wasted no time in binding her wrists with coarse rope. The guards sneered down at her, their voices laced with disdain as they called her a "filthy human."

Alex's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear show on her face. She lifted her chin defiantly, meeting their glares with a steely gaze. "Get up," one of the guards snapped, yanking her to her feet. They dragged her through the camp, past rows of tents and clusters of Fae warriors who paused in their activities to stare. Whispers followed them, a mixture of curiosity and hostility.

Roan, Taryn, and Archer walked ahead, their expressions tense. Roan cast a worried glance back at Alex, his jaw clenched in frustration at how she was being treated, but he knew better than to intervene—at least, not yet.

Finally, they reached the central area of the camp, where a large bonfire crackled and sent sparks spiraling into the night sky. Around the fire stood the camp's leaders—the generals whose reputations preceded them. Each was a figure of power and authority, their presence commanding immediate respect.

Arren, the troll, was the first to speak. His voice was a deep rumble, like stones grinding together. "What is this?" he demanded, his sharp eyes fixed on Alex.

Oleander, the orc, stepped forward, his expression stern. His greenish skin seemed to glow in the firelight, highlighting the intricate tattoos that wound around his muscular arms. "A human," he spat, his tone dripping with contempt. "What business does she have here?"

Eli, the elf, who had remained silent until now, stepped closer, his gaze narrowing as he looked at Alex. His sword was sheathed at his side, a reminder that he was more than just a leader—he was a warrior. His expression was one of mild surprise and curiosity, tinged with the faintest hint of recognition. "She carries herself differently," he remarked, his voice softer than the others but no less authoritative.

Zae, the fairy, hovered slightly above the ground, her wings shimmering in the firelight. She tilted her head, her expression one of cautious interest. "She's not just any human, is she?" she mused aloud, her voice carrying a note of intrigue.

The guards pushed Alex to her knees again in front of the generals, forcing her to bow her head. But Alex, ever defiant, lifted her gaze and met the eyes of each general in turn. The camp had fallen into a tense silence, every Fae present watching to see how this strange human would respond.

"I am Princess Alexandra of Valoria," Alex declared, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "I am the rightful heir to the Valorian throne."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the truth she spoke. The generals exchanged glances, some of skepticism, others of calculation.