My arrow slices through the air with a whistle. From across the battlefield, it finds its target– the eye of one of the northern woodland elves. His blood splatters onto his comrades, though they pay no mind. Each of the other woodland elves are in battle with several of Ellanian soldiers. The city of Oedyz sits on the far horizon opposite of the sea, their archers no doubt watching the battle with keen eyes, ready for opposing stragglers to make their way to the walled fortress.

Oedyz lies on the coast of the continent of Arel. Forces sent from the Nievanian militaristic hold of Wyrith set up an encampment along the border of our lands, in the Arelian Desert. The elves of Ellania, like myself, have been at odds for thousands of years. That’s what brought my troops– more so my parents' troops to the coastal region. If Nievanian elves thought to take more of our territory for themselves, we weren’t going to sit by and let them.

Of course, Mykar and I aren’t supposed to be here; as heir to the throne, my place was by my parents’ side in the throne room, listening to hours of court pass by. I slipped out of my rooms only four days ago at dawn. Mykar was already waiting for me in the fields outside of Ellania, his alchemist pouches bulging with potions, herbs, and other concoctions he mixed with his mother. We’d trailed behind the fast moving troops for three days and nights, only arriving in Oedyz last night. After a short rest, we woke to the sounds of battle. 

From our little encampment beneath a large rock outcropping on the top of a hill, we saw the beginning of the fight play out. Ellanian forces are numerous, overwhelming the northern woodland elves with ease. We were plains elves, trained our entire lives to live in open or hilled fields– in the open. Nievanian warriors were accustomed to aerial ambush techniques, using their thick canopies as cover. They were out of their element here, and it was costing them.

Some of their warriors rode in on large direwolves, giving them a slight advantage. However, due to our general positive connection with local Centaur tribes, we had several of their esteemed warriors in our midst. The woodland elves wanted our land, but that loss would mean the death of the Centaur families throughout our territory. Nevian’s queen,  Arasne Rahu, often spoke of her plans to eradicate all non-elven intelligent lifeforms from the continent after her conquest of Ellania.

“Ready to cause some real trouble?” Mykar said from beside me, his dark golden-brown skin already shining with a thin layer of sweat. The heat so near the desert was inescapable, despite the proximity of the coast and its winds. The breeze did nothing to cool us down, especially not in this bustling battle– all it did was make the air stuffy.

I nod to my best friend, my eyes locking onto his bright golden gaze. “If you throw the oil, I’ll shoot the flames,” I reply with a smirk rising on my lips. As if he read my mind, his hands were already fishing around in his over-the-shoulder leather bag. Within seconds he pulled out three round containers, the black glass glinting in the boiling sunlight. Their mouths were wrapped in twine and sealed with a gray wax. 

Mykar threw the bottles into the midst of a group of woodland elves as they fought Ellanian soldiers. As the opposing warriors were covered in thick, inky oil, my parents’ soldiers backed away, their blades up and at the ready.

Holding my first arrow into a nearby fallen torch, when the shaft holds flame, I let it fly towards the group. Aiming for their feet, where much of the oil landed, pooled at their boots… they burst into flame in a blink of an eye.

Their screams turn my stomach sour, though I look away as my soldiers cut them down. This is war. It’s not as pretty as court, and the screams of elven men burning alive will haunt my dreams… the fight was in my blood. This is my homeland they’re invading, my people they’re threatening. There is nothing for me to do sitting in my throne beside my parents, other than listen to the woes of highborn lords and pass laws to screw over the working commoners. 

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

That is not my duty… this is.

“Harpies by the sea!” A scream rings clear over the clashing of swords and screams of the wounded. Nearby on the cliff overlooking the coast hover near two dozen large, feathered creatures. Their wings are large and covered in eagle-like feathers, the talons at the tips sharp enough to kill.  Their bodies are half-clothed or naked, the skin of the screeching women partially scaled until their legs turn to taloned raptor toes. Harpies always look like they were once gorgeous women, cursed with the wings and feet of a predatory bird. Their screeches are just as horrid as their cursed appearance, though. With teeth sharp enough to tear flesh, their main source of food is the dead.

The battle no-doubt brought them here; the stench of bodies in this heat was bound to bring in carrion of all kinds as the fight waged on.

Half of our forces turned towards the sea, and the woodland elves have as well. As Mykar and I turn to the left to slope down past the cliff and to the sandy beach itself,  the sight in the water freezes my bones.

“Shit,” we groan simultaneously.

Dark, inky creatures covered in a thick layer of smoke-like shadow rise from the waterline. They take the vague shape of men, with weapons equally as dark and foreboding in their grip. From a hundred yards away, I can hear them screaming in a guttural language I can’t understand, the sounds of their voices sending tendrils of fear throughout my body. The winds from the sea pick up as a dark storm brews on the horizon. Humanoid shapes form in the wind alongside the Harpies and Shadows. 

“Gods be damned,” Mykar groans. “I didn’t sign up for a battle with Sylphs.” 

While thousands of years ago, under the Queen’s Light, Sylphs may have been guardians… since the Fall of the Queen, they have been put to work by the King of Shadows. Most once-peaceful creatures of Emeryn have since turned to the darkness under his reign.

I glance to my friend and grimace. We came here to fight the woodland troops, not monsters. But these creatures were as much of a threat, if not more, than our Nievanian foes. Though as we clutch our weapons and turn to the second battle, a strong and powerful hand slams down upon my shoulder.

Pulling a dagger from its sheath hidden in the arm of my leather armor, I whirl around and press the blade to the neck of my attacker. Except he wears the colors of my kingdom, gold and black encrusted on his shiny, unscathed chest plate.

“Thought that was you, my Princess,” he says, unphased by the blade tickling his throat. “I have orders to escort you from the battlefield.”

“You will do no such thing,” I reply with a hiss, taking my dagger from his throat and returning it to its sheath. “My place is here, with my people.”

His gaze hardens, his mouth forming a thin line as the muscle in his jaw twitches. “My Queen and King would beg to disagree, given their urgent orders. If you will not return willingly, they have granted me the permission to force.”

Mykar tenses beside me as he grasps my elbow. “We have fought well enough this time, Eilae. Let us return home before they send a second army to retrieve you.”

Rolling my eyes, I situate my bow in its sling on my back and follow behind the Capitain. Mykar is hot on my heels, his small blade drawn as we maneuver through the edge of the battlefield. Most people here aren’t fighting anymore, as healers from both sides of the battle filter in to tend to the gravest wounds. 

The sound of battle fades behind me, much to my dismay. The Captain's armor clinks together, a small group of soldiers gathering around as part of the escort as we near Oedyz. While I may have done something to help the battle today, there’s a new battle to be fought when I return to the castle.

My parents are going to kill me for sneaking out again.