Prologue #2
At that moment, they were each other’s entire universe. All they could feel were their heartbeats, breaths, and souls.
I was certain about that. Yet, I didn’t know what it felt like. And unfortunately, I would never find out.
As they separated to mount their horses, I made eye contact with Araton. A smirk appeared on his lips, but the sadness that flickered across his face showed how hurt he felt for not being considered worthy by our father.
Sorrowful, I greeted him and Serie with a nod and watched them trot to catch up with the armies.
A moment later, Father’s black stallion was led out by his squire, and the king briskly walked past me to mount his horse with agility. He propped the bottom of his spear against the stirrup and hesitated.
I knew he wouldn’t look at me.
That stalling was his goodbye.
Eventually, he urged his steed forward and vanished from my sight. Immediately afterward, a squire led out my black mare, Ringil, protected by black armor on her head, along her neck, around her chest and shoulders, and on her rump.
I got on the saddle and joined the sea of soldiers. When I reached the edge of the hill where we’d camped, I pulled the reins and watched with disapproval as the three legions moved down to the valley and lined up.
The humans took position on the left, the elves in the center, and the witches on the right.
As the general of the men’s army began to shout loudly to motivate his soldiers, their king, riding on his mount, and the Queen of the Witches came up beside me on both sides, though they kept themselves at arm’s length.
I flared up with shame. I was a two-thousand-year-old warrior; my place wasn’t on this hill, but down there, in the front row.
Suddenly, the roars and calls of Mornon’s monsters intensified.
They began pounding their massive hands—made of two deformed fingers with long, curved claws—on the ground, causing vibrations that unsettled the horses.
Even from up here, I could smell the stench of the blackish slime flowing from their saber teeth and from their long, sturdy, humanoid-shaped bodies, whose skin was covered with a sticky membrane that seemed to bleed pitch.
And as demons of shadows and lightning emerged from the ground in front of that disgusting and terrifying army, the horde of beasts split in half.
To let him pass.
On the back of a mighty white stallion, clad in impenetrable and elaborate black armor, Mornon positioned himself at the head of his legion.
It was the first time that I, Araton, and his mate saw him, since we were immediately taken to safety during the attack in which he had killed Aunt Tìnuviel and stolen Calien’s Crystal.
I didn’t know what he looked like beneath his creepy helmet with metal-notched decorations that rose up his skull sides like horns. All I knew was that his eyes, visible through two sharp-edged slits, were wells of blinding flames.
“You’ve brought me so many bodies for my experiments today, King Erech,” he said in Elvish with satisfaction.
His deep and roaring voice, which seemed to come from all directions, instilled fear in the weak hearts of men, making them fidget in place.
Some looked around as if searching for a way out.
Meanwhile, the witches responded with wild, warlike shouts, beginning to summon their multicolored powers in their hands.
Father urged his horse forward a few steps. “We came to destroy you once and for all, Mornon the Abomination!” he shouted in the common tongue so that the humans and witches could hear and understand him.
They rose in battle cries.
Then my father, in a low voice filled with resentment, added in our language, “And I came to take my mother back.”
Mornon ran a hand across his armor plate, and the shining Calien’s Crystal appeared in the center of his chest, embedded in the metal. “Then come to die, Elf King.”
A moment later, the herd of monsters and demons charged toward us. As a single army, elves, humans, and witches advanced. When they collided halfway, a cloud of black dust rose into the air and hovered above them like a giant dome.
I strained to follow my family through the crowd, but within minutes, the area became so thick with the electric smoke released by the demons and with blood squirting everywhere that I could no longer recognize them.
Cries of incitement mixed with inhuman wails and the neighing of the horses. The creatures’ roars overshadowed the clash of swords.
And I was standing up here.
Still.
Safe.
Useless.
Sensing my inner torment, my mare started scraping the ground with her right hoof.
Forgive me, Father.
Even before I poked her with my heels, Ringil sprinted down the hill and, swift as the wind whipping my face, galloped toward the battle.
I had lost count of how many times I had faced Mornon’s monsters over the centuries on this very plain, but the fight I was in now was entirely different.
The soldiers’ dismembered bodies flew everywhere like rag dolls, and in an instant, a layer of warm, pungent blood covered me. I drew my sword, and Ringil moved poorly over the blanket of corpses on the ground.
“Father! Araton! Serie!” I shouted, killing as many beasts as I could while trying to reach the heart of the battle.
A trail of cobalt-blue power cut in front of me, causing Ringil to stop abruptly and rear. In the next moment, a body was flung at me, knocking me off the saddle. I fell onto the bodies, then quickly got up, trying to wedge my feet between the dead to find the ground.
“Run!” I yelled at my mare, who turned around and galloped back the way we came.
I continued moving forward, helping anyone in need until I eventually found my father.
I froze in place. My heart seemed like it was about to burst out of my chest. My eyes were so wide they burned.
Mornon had grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. He was holding Erech’s spear in his other hand. He raised it as if he was about to lance my father.
Instead, he clenched his grip tighter until the magic wood broke in two, humiliating him.
Startled, I swiftly cut off the deformed hand of a monster that had lashed out at me without my noticing. I decapitated it and looked back at Father, gasping to see Mornon throw him against the carcass of one of his horrific creatures.
Unarmed, the king could only watch as Mornon advanced, holding a black broadsword that had appeared in his hand.
“Father!” I shouted and desperately darted over the scattered bodies.
Mornon lifted his blade, but just before he could strike King Erech’s head, Araton arrived and deflected it with his weapon, pushing the enemy back.
But he was infinitely more powerful than we were.
And my brother, the best elf fighter, was knocked down after a few mighty blows.
“Araton!” I screamed, driving one slit behind the other to get rid of the rotten beast that had attacked me.
Mornon raised his sword over my brother, who knelt before him with blood dripping from his nose, mouth, and eyebrow, ready to face death with honor.
“ No!” I shouted with all my breath.
I lunged forward, almost crawling into the circle of land where my family was—and that, apparently, no monster or demon dared to cross—knowing I wouldn’t get there in time.
But Serie could.
She appeared before her mate at the very last second, and the dark blade slashed diagonally through her torso, from shoulder to hip.
“ Serie!” Araton bellowed with such intensity and anguish that it felt as if the sky and ground were tearing apart.
His mate’s two parts sagged and split open, collapsing to the ground. With heartbreaking sounds, my brother sank down next to her, cupping her face with his hands and pressing his forehead to hers, his shoulders trembling with sobs.
With a painful vice tightening around my heart, I turned in horror to my king, who was staring at his shattered spear.
Stand up, Father, please.
But he was overwhelmed.
So, I shifted my focus to Mornon, who brushed the Crystal on his chest with his fingertips.
“I hope you’re watching, Calien,” he said, sounding almost disgustingly intimate. “I will end your bloodline, and your pain will be so great that you will no longer have the strength to fight me. Finally, your power will be mine.”
He grasped the hilt of his broadsword with both hands and lifted it, ready to stab Araton in the back.
Using my race’s supernatural speed, I charged at him and blocked his blade with mine, pushing it back so forcefully that he slightly gave ground.
“Then start with me,” I said, stepping in front of my family.
The moment Mornon looked at me, his eyes burned more intensely. “As you wish, young elf.”
He attacked me with a ferocity I had never experienced before. With each parry, the impact of his strike buzzed through my bones, making my teeth clench. Despite my quick dodges, his blade scratched my armor multiple times, emitting a faint screech. Despite his size, he was faster than I was.
Stronger.
And he was just toying with me. I could tell from the ease with which he defended himself from my attacks, from how he gave me a few seconds to recover when he threw a punch at me, looking at me rapaciously.
As the minutes passed, I started to struggle. Mornon’s sword broke the chainmail visible at the crook of my elbow and then sliced into my thigh, tearing my leather pants.
The blood rushed to the surface of my skin instantly, flowing copiously down my knee and forearm, coating my hand and making my grip on the hilt slippery.
However, something else emerged with it.
A voice speaking my name. Over and over.
I got distracted, and the tip of his black weapon sliced into my cheek, causing me to burst out in a sharp scream. My gaze was drawn to the Crystal in the center of Mornon’s chest, and that’s when it hit me.
Calien was calling me.