Prologue 1.1

The First Morning

When my eyes first opened, I was named Tori, Daughter of Varima and Selca.

I was of the Siva Fae or the Grey Elves to those who were not of us. They were a proud people that owed their loyalty to the Ulma Fae or the High Elves to most mortals, as did the Blud Fae and the Terra Fae. We do not speak of the Luna Fae and they do not speak of us. It is better that way or that is what we told ourselves when fate had our paths aligned.

The Siva Fae were great crafters of magical items both of war and utility.

My Mother Varima was a crafter of spell blades for Ulma Knights and Magic Foci for training children. My Zaza Selca was one of my peoples few Spell blades that were directly loyal to the Ulma Fae King.

Mama made and fixed Zaza's Equipment and Arms.

Zaza used them to kill people.

A lot of people.

Zaza told me once that they had killed so many people that they had long since lost count and that the King rewarded them well for their services.

I asked them if I would have to kill people to.

They said no.

I asked if I could learn.

They said I could... but it would not be from them likely.

I asked why.

"Your Mother would kill me."

I believed them.

That conversation with Zaza would be my last.

Into my 21st Birthday the Ulma Fae King would declare War against the Daemon Alliance alongside our allies the Republic of Tir and the Valk Dynasty. It went very poorly.

The Daemon Alliance was very much prepared to fight our people and our allies having been waiting for this war since their formation.

My people and our allies... less so. The first real battle between us and the alliance ended with the Republic forces being mostly decimated and the Dynasty quitting the field before committing, our Kingdoms forces did a bit better having been made up of our most powerful mages and the like but we were not quite the picture perfect soldiers that was needed, when our champions were cut down our forces fled. My Zaza survived the initial skirmish but would die in the vanguard covering our forces retreat.

"It was an honorable death."

"Died for a good cause."

"They saved many innocent lives."

"Their sacrifice will not be in vain."

When word returned about Zaza's fate... I heard a lot of things like that from the People, the Elders, from Soldiers, from even the King because apparently Zaza had saved his and his sons lives, when the battle turned against them. I wasn't really interested in hearing all of that, but Mama taught me to be polite, to smile and thank them for there words and above all else, not to ask them the question I always asked Zaza when they got back home.

"How many people did they kill? How many generals? How many soldiers? How many captains or lieutenants or corporals?"

I really wanted to ask, but Zaza was not there to answer anymore and I felt pain in my chest and my legs would feel tired whenever I thought about that. I thought about asking Mama... but Mama didn't really have time for me after Zaza died. Mama didn't have time for anyone really. She spent most of her time either working or sitting under a tree outside our house looking at something. I sometimes tried talking to her when she sat under her tree but she sort of ignored me a lot.

She still fed me. She still took me to get new clothes and sometimes new toys and stuff as I got older, but she didn't talk to me at all.

If I needed a bed time story or simply someone to hug before I went to sleep... she was working, and every time I would feel that pain in my chest and the weakness in my legs when I thought about Zaza.

Sometimes water would leak from my face.

Regardless as I grew older such things hurt less and less and I could do many of the things I would have asked Mama for by myself.

I could reach the top shelf, do my own taxes and even make my own hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows inside.

So when the Ulma Fae King declared War on the Republic of Tir and the Valk Dynasty at behest of the Daemon Alliance after a few hundred years since the first war and political alliances changed as they oft do when time passed, I enlisted.

I did not think much of telling Mama this... she had spent those hundreds of years not talking to me, but when I did tell her while she was sitting under her tree, she had this look in her eyes that I think people called... anger. She didn't say anything at first, she just stood up and went to her workshop. She stayed their for the majority of the time I had left before I was to be deployed, only coming out to take my measurements... then the day before I left for training she gave me three things.

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A Thunderclaw.

A Helm Smasher.

And the last words I would ever hear from her. I will not share them, at least not yet, they mean much to me and to share them now feels premature.

Oh... and my Mama doesn't die or anything, well I mean she has to die eventually the Immortality of the Fae is circumstantial after all, but the circumstance generally involves murder. I just never find the time to talk with her again. After I deployed I never found time or reason to return home for I encountered something that I was certain beyond me, I fell in love you see.

I met my love on the day of my first true battle in service to the Daemon Alliance.

I fell in love with killing.

Humans, Dwarves, Children of Fae, Daemon, Dragon, Dragon-kin, Kobolds, Lizardmen, Beastmen, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Orcs, Ent's, Troll's, Ogres, Oni, Chimera's, Harpies, Giant's, Hellhounds, Spirits, Ghouls, Angels, Leviathans, Krakens, Siren's, Mermaids, Selkie, Kelpie, Giant Spiders, Fishmen, Bog Hags, Swampmen, Boggarts, Mimics, Shapeshifters, Kitsunes, Shades, Shadows, Mummies, Giant Scorpions, Elementals, Sprites, the Strong, the Weak, the Young, the Old...

The list goes on and on and on, and I have made efforts to remember each and every creature and person I have killed, how many I killed of each creature and person, the names of the few that had names to give before I killed them, and the names I made up for some of the creatures and people whom got close to adding me to their list.

In my time I killed so many things that the God of War granted me a title.

I didn't care to much about it and to be honest I forgot what the title even was but I'm told it was important and rare, that it blessed me in ways I will never fully understand and also made me a target for things to kill, in hopes that the title bestowed would fall on them should they succeed. Honestly it worked for me, more things showed up for me to kill and if I died in the process... well I mean I guess they deserved the title more than I did right? I don't really know... I did eventually die though.

Thousands of years passed after I received the title and the Daemon Empire (formally the Daemon Republic which was formally the Daemon Alliance) had finally hit an obstacle they could not pass via sheer strength in numbers.

The Hero.

The Daemon Empire had first encountered The Hero within the middling Vardred Kingdom. A Raiding Party Tax Collection Group had been sent into the kingdom to ascertain their income description on paper matched the physical description.

They never returned.

So a bit larger more forceful group was sent.

Then another and then another, and another until after the 8th invasion force that was sent returned combat ineffective, the Empire finally grew concerned as with each defeat the whispers of The Hero a Child of Goddess and Mortal Flesh began to spread.

I was in the North at the time.

After the 15th invasion force had failed and the enemies the Empire made External and Internal began to taste blood in the water, the Emperor decided I should not be.

I was tasked with killing The Hero.

I would fail.

Boring details aside our battle lasted four blows in their entirety.

My Helm Smasher would meet The Heroes Shield and fold it like paper sending free shockwaves that would set free earthquakes across the world and for years to come.

The Heroes Sword would meet my Thunderclaws and shatter them causing everything from glass to jewelry to ear drums to explode.

My Lightning Magic would bash against The Hero's Holy Aegis and new canyons would be made.

My Helm Smasher challenged The Heroes Sword.

It fell short.

I was parted in half across the waist. My lower half being thrown to orbit, and my upper half unceremoniously dumped upon the floor where once my feet were.

Though I didn't die immediately, the blood loss would technically be my end if one wants to be pedantic.

Laying there my last thoughts would be of my Zaza...

I would wonder if I beat Zaza's count.

I would wonder if they would be proud if I did.

As my eyes closed for the first time I wonder if my Mama would forgive me for breaking her gifts.

I never thanked her for them. They were wonderful.

Maybe if we meet again she could...

she...