My eyes scan the battlefield, trying to detect any life. There is nothing. This, once beautiful, land has been turned into hell. Where the Temple used to stand, there is only rubble and ash. Where the grassy lands used to flourish with life, there is only death.
Destruction is everywhere I look. The relief that I made it out alive is enough to keep the tears of grief at bay. The aftermath of this war setting in, slowly, like molasses. I keep my eyes to the ground, hoping to see a vision of the future in the blood-stained ground. Nothing. My disappointment is short-lived when I hear the battlecry of the Alke. My body now alert, my pointed ears catching what a mortal human could not. The Alke were coming to kill the survivors. I was a survivor.
I surveyed the area once more, searching for a place that would shield my tall frame, not finding anything. The Alke were nearly upon me when I hurled around, bloodthirsty and ready to fight for my country once more. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins, intertwining with the magic to create something spectacular.
The general of the Alke sees me from afar, his senses almost as good as mine. I give him a sickly smile, knowing that he would see. He returns the favour.
The Alke approach, cautiously, as if afraid. They should be. I stare at each of them in turn, none of them special. Except the last one. He looks rather familiar. I stare at him a little longer, trying to find what it is. I see his personal emblem, my heart nearly stops. It's the Moose. The exact symbol that was drawn on my parents' door on the night they were murdered, all those centuries ago. It feels as if it were yesterday. I remember walking into their room that morning, which happened to be my birthday, expecting them to be sitting up with smiling faces, when instead all I saw was their heads on the floor, and their bodies still nuzzled together. Someone had murdered them in their sleep, and that someone was standing right before me.
It took me all the self-control that I had to keep calm and not let out the deafening roar that had been building up for centuries. Instead of ripping his throat out, I gave his the sweetest smile I could, my green eyes peering into his golden ones, he smiled back.
This man, this murderer, was tall and well built. His armour was well-crafted, and very expensive, by the looks of it. Good, I thought, that's what I will destroy first.
He turned around to his commander, asking him a question with his eyes. The general nodded, a simple, yet grave movement.
The man and I locked eyes, he raised a brow, I smiled in turn, revealing my elongated canines. His eyes glistening as he saw them. He was ready for the challenge. We stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to initiate the fight. The man became impatient tried to strike me with his sword, I easily dodged it. He kept trying to strike me, his blows easily deflected. This had to be a ruse. This man, or whatever he was, had to be at least a few centuries old, he had to have demon or Fae blood in him. Our fighting continued, I easily kept up with him. Perhaps this was a tactic? Tire me and then go in for the killing blow? Not on my watch.
I took out my two daggers as he tried to finish an elaborate move that caused no damage whatsoever. I began slicing, left, right, up, down, all the while he still could not get a blow in. I take a moment to assess the damage. He's bleeding all over. He then looks at me, with an evil glean in his eyes.
"Well, Lady, fancy meeting you here after all these centuries. Such a shame that your parents couldn't be here to watch me slaughter you. Fear not, you shall be reunited shortly."
Like hell we would. With blood roaring in my ears, I let myself attack. I strike so quickly that he hasn't even bat an eye by the time I slice his stomach open, spilling his innards everywhere. Yet, somehow, he is still breathing. He is laughing at me, he has the nerve to laugh in my face.
He moves in close, beginning some hand motions and chanting a terrible song. Knowing full well what he is trying to do, I chop of his hands and rip out his tongue with one tug. He moves in again, using his arms to attack. The feeble attempts almost enough to make me laugh.
He gives me a look, and in those eyes, I do not see malice, I see a plea. His eyes are begging me to end him. His life had been too long, I realise. He has no one left to live for. I shove him down to his knees and pray to the gods that this will be worth it. I draw my sword, and I let it hover just above the a man's neck. He looks at me, with a smile, so dazzling, had it not been for the blood, I would have smiled back. I nod and lift up the sword and bring it down with all my might. His head is disconnected from his body.
I look down at the blood on my hands and my suit. Is this the cost of vengeance? I walk away from the scene, the Alke staring after me in awe. I don't look back.
