The tale I'm about to tell doesn't belong to me, my brother, Tongan, or the fallen soldiers of war. It doesn't even belong to the clashing kings. This story is about Faylith. In my dreams, I can still see and smell her. I sleep just to catch a glimpse of her. Her laugh is fading from my memory, but I remember her beauty vividly. Faylith had pale skin and elegant, pointed ears. Her golden curls glistened in the sunlight, and her green eyes mirrored the enchanting forest around us. Her scent was intoxicating, and her sweetness was undeniable. We would lose track of time as we hid away together, unnoticed by the world around us. Despite the taboo, I loved her. Loving her was risky—I could have been disowned and exiled if anyone ever discovered us. The princess was in love with another woman, and not just anyone, but her own brother's fiancée. It felt like a tragic joke, but despite the despair, I couldn't resist my feelings for her. This is Faylith's story, for it has always been about her.
To understand Faylith's story, I will have to take you to the very beginning.
YOU ARE READING
Faylith
FantasyMy dearest love and guiding light, Today, I immersed myself in the intricate melodies of the orcish tongue, attempting to assimilate into this unfamiliar world. Yet, amidst the clamor and chaos, my thoughts invariably drift back to the serene momen...
