“Get the princess! Leave none alive!”
A princess, I note darkly. Yet she’s not flying, so a half-blood then. Worth investigating later.
I stand amid the chaos, the few remaining Unseelie soldiers by my side, bracing for our last stand.
“Hold your ground!” I roar, my voice cutting through the din of battle. “Archers, now! Mages, on three, two, one!”
Hot blood trickles over us like warm summer rain. The archers manage to get many of them, and I’m grateful to whoever organized the defense of the final Trial. But the real breakthrough comes when the mages, including Aernysse, send a scorching volley of death, taking many of them down. The surviving knights greedily take this chance for vengeance, and brutally slaughter them, desecrating this holy place.
Slashing and stabbing, ripping off wings and slicing throats, I slowly make my way to Talysse.
And because the cursed gods cannot make it easier for me, Galeoth lands before me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Keep your filthy hands off her, Prince,” he spits.
I respond with a low growl, raising my blade.
We clash, my Shadowblade shifting and morphing to counter each of his attacks. He wields his sword with grace and precision, but my endless training facing the threats of the Wastelands gives me the edge. I parry a strike aimed at my heart, the Shadowblade transforming into a shield at the last second.
“Is she a part of this?” I roar in his face. With a swift motion, it shifts back into a blade, and I drive it toward Galeoth, forcing him to retreat.
Around us, the battle rages. My soldiers fight bravely, outnumbered but not outmatched. The mages send blinding surges of lethal light to the skies, bringing more of them down, to the raised blades waiting to meet them. Drenched in blood and sweat, I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest twice. I’ve lost Talysse once, only so that the cruel gods bring her back to me to be taken again. The ruins become a labyrinth of death, the thunder of spells, clanking of steel, and the cries of the wounded and dying echoing through the forest surrounding us. I catch glimpses of my men holding their own, their desperation fueling their ferocity.
Galeoth strikes again, his blade singing through the air. I block it, our swords locking. “Is she a part of this?” I insist, but the cursed Seelie responds with a cruel smile. Now his glamour is lifted, I can see him well. There’s immortal radiance in his eyes, and his bronzed skin is glowing. His massive golden earrings, carved with runes, are missing. The realization nearly costs me my life as a sweep of his blade almost misses my shoulder.
“So you’ve figured out my trick, Prince,” he mocks. “My people are skilled in creating illusions like this.” He gestures toward Talysse, and a surge of fury makes me strike at him again, nearly breaking his defense. Now, it is my turn to smile. The prick might act all confident and arrogant, but I can clearly see his rapidly rising chest, the sweat trickling into his eyes, and his open mouth gasping for air. I’ll finish him soon.
A dying Seelie plummets from above, nearly taking me down in his agony, but I quickly recover my balance, just to see Galeoth turning on his heel and leaping toward Talysse.
Never, never turn your back on a foe wielding a Shadowblade. His cursed wings are in the way of my blade, now shaped as a spear, so I get him in his lower back. Just ten feet away from the petrified and bloodied Talysse, he halts, and his knees give in.
A cruel smile dancing on my lips, I stride toward him, stepping over pools of blood and corpses. This bastard will pay for slaughtering my family. I must be a gruesome sight as soldiers—Seelie and Unseelie alike—quickly step out of my way. With his final strength, he yanks my blade out and takes to the night sky, barking orders to his remaining men.
And leaving Talysse behind.
My soldiers rally, cutting through the remaining enemies on the ground with renewed vigor. I turn, the Shadowblade back in my hand, transforming now into an ax, cleaving through the winged warriors that dare approach.
They are retreating, bidding us with a deadly volley of arrows from above. I leap toward Talysse, but she’s unharmed.
The battle is over. The legion of Seelie Fae lies slaughtered among the ruins. I stand amidst the carnage and the scent of blood, breathing heavily, my body aching, but it’s my heart that’s hurting the most. The few soldiers that remain gather around me, their eyes filled with awe and respect.
The Shadowblade shifts back into a sword, its dark surface gleaming in the light of the spell above us.
Darkness pools at my feet. The gloom inside me is growing, tainting everything. The ruins have grown quiet again.
I look around, taking in all the bodies and the pools of blood, my parents among them, along with the best of our court. Then my eyes land on Talysse, the only Seelie still standing there, and something breaks inside me.
I cast a spell that sends Talysse flying. She lands on her back, her head hitting the floor. “Chain her tightly. Make sure she cannot summon that cursed blade. I need to know how a legion of Seelie entered our lands, as all these traitorous bastards should’ve been dead decades ago. And her too.” I turn around and point at Aernysse Stargaze, standing bloodied and confused next to my dead parents. “She failed to notice that there were two Seelie right under her nose. In our court. Chain them both and drag them to the Pits.”
The soldiers are all on their knees, their fists pressed to their chests.
“Long live the king,” one shouts. “Long live the king!” The rest pick up, and soon, the ruins shake with their roar. I take in all the death around: the blood-soaked ancient tiles, the mutilated corpses, the sliced white wings of our enemies, and the severed heads, the smell of blood, steel, and magic in the air. My gaze follows the unconscious body of Talysse, being dragged away.
“What are your orders, Your Majesty?”
Death and ruins are such a befitting decorum for the beginning of my reign.
I straighten my shoulders and dismiss my blade.
The world is about to change.
