Chapter Three

Trees surrounded him from all sides, the sounds of his soldiers fighting and crying out in anguish coming from all directions. He looked around and felt saddened at the sight. His males were fighting to the death, with both swords and magic… but how long could they honestly expect to hold off for? The Humans outnumbered them ten to one.

He looked towards his Queen and watched her as she fought off the Human soldiers. Queen Xilithara was both beautiful and lethal; she carried herself as any soldier might. Her beautiful face was twisted in anger and pain as she fought her way towards an injured scout.

Unknowing to him, a Human stood behind him, sword poised to strike. He turned in what seemed like slow motion, the Human’s sword already in mid-swing. He brought his own sword up and attempted to parry the attack, but he watched helplessly as his sword slid off the steel blade harmlessly.

The blade entered through his stomach, causing him to gasp in anguish and pain. Immediately his hand shot out and gripped the Human by the throat, his fingers biting into the flesh. He felt a dark power stir within his very soul, and knowing he was going to die, he released the coiled power.

The Human’s eyes bugged, nearly popping out of his very skull. The General watched the gruesome display as one might watch something uninteresting. The power, whatever it was, felt hot and unholy as it flowed through his arm into the Human’s body.

“Xhal!”

The General released the Human and watched as his body dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap, the soldier’s mouth working to bring air into his very body, but failing. He looked over towards his Queen and noticed she was limping bloodily towards him, her sword dangling from her limp hand, the metal blade dragging across the forest dirt.

He turned to approach her, but his knees gave out just as he coughed up blood. He looked down at his stomach and felt a shock of surprise as he noticed the large puddle of blood beneath his plated feet. The Queen’s boots stopped just before him, the once polished and pristine boots covered in mud and blood.

He raised his head slowly, his gaze finding the Queen’s. “What have you done?” she whispered in a guttural, broken voice. “Why have you done this?”

“It’s over,” he answered softly. He didn’t have it in him to carry on, “We have lost, my Queen.”

Tears spilled over her eyes, the tears mixing with the dirt and blood on her face. She sank down to her knees before him, her Royal armor looked beaten and tattered; her emblem barely resembling that of a Green Dragon.

All around them, the fighting continued. He looked up at the sky, taking in the brilliant blue sky and fluffy looking clouds. His mate would have loved it here, he thought sadly. Too bad she never remember this place with any fondness. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he would never see the day his son was born, never lay his eyes upon his Sparrow again.

A sudden shout caught his attention just as a group of Human soldiers started running for them. With an angry shout, the General gripped his sword tightly in his hand and shot off the ground towards them. He met them halfway, his sword glittering in the fading sun.

A scream ripped through the air, no… it couldn’t be…

He jerked his head around and screamed in horror as he watched his mate running towards him, her body heavy with his young, “No!” he shoved the Humans away from him, discarding the danger they posed to him.

She wasn’t trained in the arts of war… she couldn’t fight. How had she even found them?

A Human wearing the armor of their General approached her, his sword angled at a deadly angle towards her. He had to get to her before the Human did.

Halfway to his mate, his strength flagged and he crumpled to the dirt, his eyes never leaving that of his mate’s. The Human General advanced towards her and when he was less than a few feet away from her, he swung his sword.

The sword caught his mate by surprise, her face twisting in disbelief and pain.

“Xhal…” she whispered, tears running down her face.

“Ariana!”

With a gasp, Prince Roland jerked up into a sitting position, sweat covering his body and bed pallet. He looked down at his stomach in a panic, the dream had seemed so real he swore he could still feel the sword as it entered his stomach. To his relief, his stomach was fine. He wasn’t injured.

He stood shakily, his adrenaline still pumping wildly. He looked around his tent and found it exactly as he had left it; his desk sat off to the right, papers and maps were strewn across the surface. His chest of clothing remained at the end of his bed pallet, the lid left slightly ajar. His candle had burned away hours before, leaving a hard pool of white wax in its wake.

By the dimness, he guessed it was early dawn. It was odd for him to wake at this hour, but the dream made him uneasy. It was too real to be a figment of imagination.

There was a light clink of metal outside of his tent, drawing his attention towards it. He approached the flap to his tent and gently parted it. Outside, the sun was just beginning to make its ascent into the sky, the orange and yellow rays just breaking over the lip of the world casting everything in shadow. The air was damp and cool, causing goose bumps to break out across his skin as he stepped outside.

Most of the soldiers were still asleep as he surveyed the war camp, their bodies shivering in the cool air. He looked down at the ground and frowned. There was a thin layer of frost on the ground.

Already? He thought to himself.

“You’re up early.”

Prince Roland jerked around, his gaze zeroing in on his guard. How had he missed her standing beside his tent? “Ah,” he coughed, hiding his surprise. “I could say the same of you.”

“I have been awake for many hours.” With her helmet on, he couldn’t even begin to guess at her mood. Even her eyes were likewise unreadable. Flat and emotionless.

“Can I ask you something?”

She offered him a slight shrug, “You may ask, but I don’t guarantee that I will answer.”

“What do Elves believe about dreams?”

Beneath her helmet, her eyes widened in surprise. Several heartbeats of silence passed before she spoke and when she did, her voice was guarded and heavily accented. “We believe dreams can have many different meanings.”

“Like?”

Her eyes turned suspicious, “Why do you want to know?”

Because I just dreamed about being an Elven General whose mate was murdered before his very eyes and his mate looked suspiciously identical to you. “I… had a dream.”

“Doesn’t everyone have dreams?” Damn, by Urus, if her sarcasm didn’t kill him, her dry responses were going to.

Prince Roland rubbed the back of neck, nervous to even bring up his dream. Sadly, he had no one to confide in, and honestly, he needed to get it off of his chest. Something about that dream had shaken him; he needed to know. Instead of meeting his guard’s gaze, he looked at the sunrise. “In Human religion, we believe dreams are tied to our past lives. Do Elves believe the same?”

“In a sense, we do.” He heard her sigh as she stepped up beside him. From the corner of his eye, he watched her take her helmet off. “We believe that our dreams are tied to our Gods and in some cases, they reveal who we were in a past life.” She reached up and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I cannot tell you whether this is true or not.”

He frowned at the conviction in her voice. “Why not?”

She looked at him sideways, her eyes shining in the dim sunlight. “I have no past life.”

“Are the legends true about Elves? Their immortality, magical powers, and ability to communicate with nature?”

Ariana seemed to measure him for several heartbeats, her eyes focused upon his face. Her face was carefully neutral, her features composed perfectly. Her gaze focused on the sunrise. “Those legends used to be true. Much has been lost to the Elves because of the Humans.”

As the sun finally began its ascent into the sky, Prince Roland watched it with her in silence. He desperately wanted to ask her more questions, but something in her stiff stance told him to back off. In the week she had been with him, she had barely spoken to him. He had to wonder, where did the deep hatred for Humans come from?

“I lost my mate and unborn son at the same time to Humans.”

“I’m sorry?” He blinked in confusion.

“The answer to your question, Prince Roland.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, instead she looked off into the distance. “I was alive during the first contact between our peoples.”

“But that’s-”

“Not impossible.” She looked at him, her body turning towards him. “Your history may paint the Elves as these mythical and savage creatures, but the truth is never cut so black and white, Prince Roland. Modern Elves are nothing like the Ancient Elves. Our history and culture has been obliterated. Our Gods have abandoned us. The arrival of Humans has changed my race forevermore. There is naught I can do to stop it.”

A sad, weary smile brought her lips up. “The day my Queen died in battle was the day my race was changed. She was the oldest and wisest Elf of her time. We lost hope. But we soldier on because that is what we have learned to do. One day,” she shrugged, “we will simply stop existing. We will disappear forever.”