Rise and Fight

Chapter 5

The Illyrian Blood Rite. 

Once, it was a dangerous ritual for a people of war. At least now it was slightly humanized. 

Elentyia stood in a forest. She did not know this one. She had been all over her kingdom, but not here. 

The townspeople whispered that it was haunted by the Fae of the olden days. The ones that perished in the first demon war. 

Perhaps it was. 

There was a howl, as if the wind blew through the trees, but the leaves did not shake.

Whispers could be heard, but nothing moved. 

There was a chill in the air, even as the sun heated the earth relentlessly. 

One hour into the Rite, and still all was quiet. 

Elentyia wore a small bracelet of iron on her ankle. Her powers stirred inside her, but she could not free them. 

Since her mother was half Fae, she had a different way to change to her one fourth human form. When she touched iron, she changed. 

Because of this, she did not have her better sense of smell or hearing or sight. 

She was defenseless. 

But Elentyia had trained for this. Her mother made sure of it. 

She knew which plants were poisonous, and which she could eat. She could carve any deadly weapon out of wood in less than 15 minutes. She knew how to stay warm on the coldest nights, she could tell which direction she was going by the positioning of the stars and the way the wind blew. 

Elentyia sat on a tree branch, sharpening her spear with a rock. She smiled as she heard a snap and a growl not too far away. 

She'd caught someone. 

For the past mile, one of the competitors had been on her trail. They were good enough that she didn't know who it was, but they were now caught in her trap. 

"Well, well, Sorrel. Didn't expect this," She said with a laugh, walking up to the netted figure. "Did your sister abandon you, or is she around here, waiting to attack me?" 

Elentyia stepped forward. Her eyes widened as she felt a rope tighten around her ankle. 

With a scream, she was dragged up into the trees, and was left dangling upside down. 

"We're not dumb, Elentyia, but you are," Sorscha said, looking up at the vulnerable girl. "I can't believe you fell for that." 

The witch cut her twin loose. "Have fun getting out of that!" 

The two ran off, leaving a snarling Elentyia behind. 

She didn't even try to get down. It was hopeless. Sorscha and Sorrel were known for their perfect snares. No one had ever escaped. Not without magic. 

........

Her blood was all in her head now, and her face was probably red. 

It was hopeless now. The only way she'd get down was if someone helped her. And since the only people who weren't scared of the forest were the champions, anyone who came across her would prefer her trapped. 

There was a rustling in the bushes. Someone was coming. 

Please don't be Cal, please don't be Cal, please don't be Cal. 

She pleaded to anything out there watching over her.

He'll never let me forget this. 

It wasn't Cal that came out of the bushes, nor any of the other champions. 

It was a male, with pointed ears signifying that he was at least part Fae. 

His golden hair was much like Aedion's or Gavrien's, but much longer. 

There was a look of anger on his face. He had a sword drawn, and pointed at her. What the hell? 

His lips pulled back in a snarl, and she was his teeth were as dull as hers in human form. 

He was not of this world. 

Or perhaps she was not of this world. The scenery around her was not longer the mountainous pines native to Terrasen, but tropical trees found in Wendlyn. 

How had she gotten here? 

"How did a human get into my territory?" The male growled. 

"Excuse me, I don't know who you are, but I don't appreciate being here, so if you'd just untie me, I'll be on my way, and you never have to see me again." She said calmly. 

He laughed humorlessly. "I don't know how a filthy human ended up here, but you're not leaving. You're coming with me." 

Before she could argue, he cut down the rope holding her and began to drag her through the forest. 

"Well, this is humiliating," she muttered. 

"Shut up," the male said roughly.

"Well, you're a feisty one. What's your name?" She asked, amused by his annoyance. 

"High Lord Trevor of the Spring Court, and that's all you need to know," he snapped. 

"Oooh, a High Lord? Is that supposed to intimidate me?" But she had all the information she needed. This was a world she'd only heard about in stories told around the fire, once a year, stories about what happened twenty years ago.

She was in Prythian, in the Spring Court, and this was the son of Tamlin. 

Elentyia Elena Ashryver Galathynius Whitethorn was now a prisoner of the Spring Court, and there was nothing she could do to escape. Not with this bracelet on her ankle. 

Not without the help of their allies, the Night Court.