The Sylien.
The rarest of all fae, whose golden locks were used by the Fates to weave destiny itself. Whose silver feathers on her four-winged panther back were harvested to make the strongest armor known to man.
The Sylien.
Whose long obsidian claws could easily tear through any metal, magicked or not. Whose soft beautiful ethereal face of a young woman contrasted with razor teeth and pink eyes were subject of many a bard’s tale.
A creature of such ancient and powerful magic, untouchable by blood and void mage alike, and so rare that there was only one sighting of such creature recorded in the past one hundred years.
This creature, this Sylien, stood atop the golden hill, back to the ancient swampy forest, and staring down at the carnage below.
Beside the great beast were two wide mouthed chimeras, cleaning their lion skin with long black tongues. They bore the faces of men, a favorite meal of theirs, as serpent tail flickered impatiently behind them. Chimeras, also rare, were not hunted to almost extinction for their resources, like that of the Sylien and other rare fae, but banished out of all of the Midlands for the danger they posed to man. They feasted, unbiased, on any creature that may have crossed their path. Unlike most fae, they were not prideful nor bound by any sort of morality or reasoning. Their only motivation seemed to be that of hunger.
There were tales of knights, lured by the chimera by their beautiful face, body hidden in the dark of the woods, only to be eaten by the great beasts shortly after. The chimera would decorate their den with the gold and silver armor of their kill. Even now there were tales of children stumbling across their splendid dens in the deepest reaches of the woods, though the chimera had been banished for hundreds of years.
The sounds of battle slowly ceased as forces on both sides lowered their weapons in wait. Whether by curiosity, fear, or respect, they waited for the great Sylien to speak. I watched as her serene face slowly scanned the battlefield below, long golden hair moving with the wind like the golden grass before her. Even from this distance, I could see such a profound sadness in her pink eyes.
“There’s just the three of them. I think we can take them. We still have two griffins and a wyvern rider at the ready.”
It was the soldier from before, whispering to the commander who once stood before us. The commander held up a hand to the other soldier, silencing him as he stared at the beasts on the hill.
I crawled forward, lifting the flap of the wyvern wing to get a better look. He was right - there were only three fae there. And although they were extremely powerful creatures, they were no match for the remaining guardian forces. Although we were able to make a dent in their numbers, there had to be at least several hundred Selphene knights left on the battlefield.
As if to hear their words, the towering Sylien then sat up on her haunches and gave a great beat of her four silver wings. Upon their movement, there was a powerful gust of wind from behind, as the magic was pulled into her then back upon us like a great inhale and exhale of all before her. Several soldiers staggered forwards, with their armor being pulled by the force, with some even falling into the grass below. I felt my own armor and blade being manipulated by the creature, and held the falchion as tight as I could so as to not lose it with the magicked wind.
I COME AS SPEAKER OF THE FAE.
The voice rattled inside my helmet and inside of my head, piercing and powerful, even comparable to that of Solia’s, as I reached to my ears. The Sylien’s face remained stoic, unmoved as she looked down at us. Others around me also grabbed at their helmets, some even dropping their weapons in surprise.
WE COMMAND THEE INVADERS OF THE WESTERN BARRENS TO LEAVE OUR BORDERS. YOU ARE TRESPASSING AND UNWELCOME IN THESE LANDS.
Suddenly, one of the griffin-riding golden soldiers made their way forward, the still crowd parting out of their way. I had only noticed them a couple of times before, but they must have been a skilled fighter as the only marks of blood on their steed were around its shining beak. The tall soldier took off their helmet and stood upon their griffin’s back. He stood silent for a moment, perhaps gathering himself before the great beast, before he finally spoke.
“We come upon the orders of Selphena and Herculea,” shouted the tall knight, velvet red cape trimmed in gold weave, “These lands belong to the Guardians. Their orders are above all else.”
The two chimeras stopped cleaning their fur and faced the knight, affected by his words. Their haunting eyes stared into him, faces blank and wide smiles causing a shiver to run down my back. The griffin stirred beneath the knight’s feet, twisting in protest from their menacing stare, and the knight steadied himself, pulling tight on the reigns.
“That said,” he continued, clearing his throat, “The fae are not our enemy. We only seek the rightful judgment of the blood mages plaguing these lands. They are an affront to Solia and-”
IT IS NOT THE BLOOD MAGES WHO HAVE RIPPED THE FEATHERS FROM MY WINGS. IT IS NOT THE BLOOD MAGES WHO STEAL DRAGONS FROM THEIR KIN.
There was another beat of the Sylien’s wings, thrusting the soldier’s forward with their force. There were screams of surprise, and the soldiers looked between each other. I even spotted a void mage stopped and watching from high grass cover.
IT WAS NOT THEY WHO BANISHED THE CHIMERA FROM THEIR HOMELAND AND SLAUGHTERED THE ANASILANS WHERE THEY REST.
“Was it not the fae who joined Herculea in battle?” shouted the knight in response, “Was it not the fae who-”
WE WERE PROMISED FREEDOM.
The ground began to shake.
AND IN RETURN, SHE SHACKLED OUR FEET.
The Sylien then raised her head and gave a valiant shriek, ear piercingly loud, causing my body to curl into itself. The two chimera joined her, screaming with their thousand-voiced call, echoing across the fields. From behind I heard a loud, sorrowful bellow of what could only be Doris, joining the chorus.
The golden soldiers grew restless.
“Heresy!”
I turned to see a serpent rider in the distance, bow pointed, taught and aiming at the top of the hill.
The beasts did not flinch.
That’s when I saw the arrow.
“No!” I screamed as the flaming projectile made its way through the shaking air to the Sylien’s breast. But, just as the arrow was about to make impact, the creature moved one of its many wings to intercept, and it hit the silver wing, bouncing off with a dull fizzle before hitting the ground. The beast screamed even louder, now further outraged, and batted its wings, rippling the field below and once more pulling me and my armor forward.
The armor… it was pulling the magic away from the armor.
That means…
I thrusted my hand forward and placed it on the back of the knight’s now unprotected leg before me. With a deep, concentrated breath, I felt the magic beneath begin to stir, and the soldier before me suddenly turned from gold and red velvet to white mist. I took a deep breath and felt my strength return in waves through my body, heat boiling inside once more and vision clearing. I felt the wind rush back through the fields, returning the magic once more. The other knight suddenly turned, noticing his commander’s disappearance, and our eyes locked.
Then, suddenly, there was a stir behind the hill, and all the soldiers grabbed for their weapons. There, rising behind the screaming beasts, was a line of about twenty bow wielding harpies, falcon wings lifting them above the tree line, shielded by ancient barked armor. Below, beside the chimera, gathered a long line of forty or so bogfae, standing in their human form, glowing in the light.
“Cover your ears!” suddenly urged the girl beside me, and I did as I was told.
The bogfae song usually was only able to bewitch a single target, or at least, that was what I had read and experienced with Aixel in the woods. But I was not sure how accurate they could be at this distance, and I trusted the fellow blood mage’s instruction.
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I was grateful I did.
The Sylien and chimera’s halted their sorrowful scream, and the haunting siren call of the bogfae began to rise, even from beneath my hard pressing palms. Their voices lilted in holy song, open palms beckoning, and the frontmost row of golden soldiers suddenly raised their weapons and slowly turned their backs to the bogfae, facing the knights behind them.
The general atop the griffin then turned, screaming at those behind.
“Shoot them! Shoot them!” he screamed, “Shoot the bogfae!”
But it was too late, the front line of knights then began to charge at those behind them, swinging violently at their once-allies, under the spell of the song. Arrows began to rain from behind from the remaining Herculea soldiers, aiming at the singing bogfae, and although some were dodged or blocked by the Sylien’s giant wings, several of the glowing women fell, rolling lifeless down the hill and returning to their true form. I stared as the crumpled eyeless bodies were lost beneath the remaining tall grass.
The flying harpies then took action, sending a rain of arrows into the crowd as the chimeras stretched and leaped forward from above and crashed into the golden armor. I watched in awe as their chattering teeth bore through the crowd, leaving none standing in their path.
I looked to the blood mage beside me who slowly moved her hands away from her ears and nodded to me.
“I think we’re okay now,” she shouted, then grabbed her dagger off the ground.
I slowly lowered my palms and made my way out from under the folded wing, helping the fellow blood mage to her feet. I took a deep breath as the blood mage at my side removed the helmet of the distracted soldier outside the wing, as she inhaled his magic before he seemed to notice what she was doing.
“I’m Mira, by the way,” I exhaled, in awe of the calamity before me, the bogfae song still loud over the screams and shouts and war sounds.
“Cyile,” she smiled as she put the now empty golden helmet on her head.
I then watched as the girl charged forward, armed only with a dagger, ran into the crowd. She dashed upward, leaping off the back of a crouching soldier, and jumped on the back of another knight, stabbing at his hands as she removed his helmet and took his magic. She then disappeared through the crowd once more.
I then saw one of the chimera leap into the air grabbing hold of the remaining hovering wyvern’s leg. The great creature flapped its wings frantically as its rider pulled up on its wings wildly. There was a sparkle of silver and I watched as a soldier climbed upon the chimera’s back, then leaped onto the copper wyvern’s belly, holding tight to its spiked saddle straps. There was a silver glimmer of a dagger in her mouth, and black braids whipped around her face in the wind. She began to saw at the leather buckle, body flying back and forth as she struggled to keep hold of the strap.
Milea.
I held my breath as she finally cut the first strap and leaped to the second. The chimera struggled to keep hold of the leg as the saddle came loose, sending the rider flying. Milea held tight on the remaining strap as her body swung wildly with the beating wings. I watched in horror as the chimera finally let go of the beast’s leg, and the creature bucked free from its bindings. Milea began to drop from the sky, and I let out a scream, but from below, a leaping Doris grabbed her with one of her many arms, and crashed to the ground.
It was then that I was finally spotted by the surrounding knights.
I fought, both defending myself and taking magic where I could. Every so often, I would look up to see the great Sylien up upon the hill, looking down and watching as the chimeras devoured everything in their wake. Arrows rained from above from the swarming harpies, finding tiny slivers in the golden armor and dropping the knights around me.
As the suns began to fall, the light above began to glow warmer and the sky streaked red as they fell behind clouds upon the horizon.
There was a familiar shout behind me, followed by a bird-like shriek. I turned towards the noise.
Ciro.
I approached a clearing, jumping over piles of armor, to see Ciro, armored darkly speckled as he pulled his halberd out of a towering griffin, and swung back for another blow. The rider, the general from before who spoke to the Sylien, then jumped off the great beast he was riding, readying his weapon and unfazed by the griffin’s pained cries. Instead of a sword, he carried a long spear, and spun it around in ease as he approached Ciro.
Ciro pulled his weapon back and to the ready, daring the knight to come forward. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, but his jaw was tight and tense and body was ready for the approach.
The general responded not by rushing at Ciro, but by hovering his hand over the spear’s long staff, muttering something to himself. Ciro shook his head, making his way forward with caution, confused.
I tried to understand what he could be doing.
Perhaps a prayer? Some sort of Selphena ritual?
But, by then, we were too late.
The spear began to glow black, with red flames engulfing both the spear and knight. Even from behind the golden helmet, his eyes were wild and red.
He had cursed himself.
“Madman!” shouted Ciro as he jumped out of the way of the general’s charge, “What have you done?”
“By the order of High Guardian Selphena, I order judgment by my hands, blood mage Ciro,” he said, voice high pitched and strained.
He turned and began to charge once more.
It was then that Ciro’s eyes met mine, and he froze.
“Mira, run!”
It only took a moment.
A single moment of distraction.
A single moment to misjudge which hand the knight would strike.
A single moment for the blackened spear tip to puncture his armor.
A single moment as the bodies of harpies dropped from the sky around us.
A single moment.
Ciro looked down to see the black, red flaming pole where it stuck out from his chest, still held by the cursed knight. He slowly turned upwards, face to face with the general, white eyes meeting red.
“No!” I screamed, louder than I ever had, and all noise seemed to dull around me. I rushed forward, falchion over my head, at full speed, only to be stopped by Ciro’s outstretched halberd.
“Don’t. Touch. Him,” shouted Ciro.
I watched in horror as blood began to pool from the corners of his mouth.
Their eyes were still locked as the cursed knight held the spear in place, slowly pushing it further into the chest armor until the tip hit the ground below. I stood, numb, shaking.
“What’s happening?” I screamed.
Suddenly, there was a burst of wind from behind, and a shadow filled the air from above. I looked up to see it was the Sylien, slowly lowering herself into the clearing, golden hair billowing around her sullen face. The great creature landed, shaking the ground. She lowered her wings, cradling around her body and surrounding both Ciro and the knight both, blocking me from their view.
I took a couple of steps back, trying to understand what was happening, then ran towards an opening near the front tips of her curved wings.
There, before me, was Ciro, between the paws of the great beast. The cursed knight was now gone, his only remains now the blood at her lips. Her calm face stared only a hand away from Ciro’s as her golden hair curtained them both. I watched, waited as they exchanged a strange silent moment, with Ciro’s eyes wide and terrified as he held his wounded chest.
Pink eyes blinked slowly, face unmoved.
I hesitated.
Was she going to eat him too? Was I missing my chance to attack?
Then, as if hearing my thoughts, the great beast’s face shot up towards me. I froze.
I was suddenly confronted with every memory, flooding back to me. Every moment, every choice, every tear and scream and smile.
I saw Limenta applying mud to a cut on my leg after I fell out of the willow tree.
I saw Dear Mary as a kitten, asleep in my arms as I sat on the floor of the library.
I saw Mother sewing the hem of my sleeve after I picked at it too much the night before my dance recital.
I saw Lumo’s face for the first time, hands shaking as I held his golden mask in my hand, and I felt my stomach clench tight with nerves.
I saw everything precious and glowing, breaking through each lonely moment, and swaddling me.
A hand then grabbed my arm, snapping my attention away from the pink eyes, and back into a reality I could never wish for.
“Mira?”
It was Aixel, more disheveled than I had ever seen him before, face veined black and red hair wild. His once white shirt was brown and gray and speckled black with what could only be dried blood. I watched as he looked to where I was staring, and his expression dropped as he saw Ciro there on the ground, hands still clenched over his chest where the spear once was.
There was another great burst of wind as the Sylien began to flap its silver wings once more, rising into the sky. I dropped to my knees beside Ciro.
His eyes were still wide, and I watched as Aixel removed Ciro’s helmet, revealing a bloodied and bruised face. His white eyes were scanning left and right rapidly as he took short, gasping breaths. He was whispering something rapidly under his breath.
“Ciro,” I whispered.
His eyes then shot at me.
“Girl - you have to survive this... She showed me… she showed me so many things. It’s - I-” he stopped, eyes wide as he saw Aixel on the other side of him.
He then grabbed Aixel’s arm, urgent, with eyes even more wild than before.
“You… You… When the time comes… you know what you need to do… I…”
“What are you talking about?” said Aixel, shaking his head and leaning forward.
“Boy… I am so sorry. I am so sorry,” he coughed, and a spray of blood spattered before him. He was shaking, gasping for every breath.
I reached for the binding chain at my neck, clumsy as I searched for it beneath my armor. Ciro seemed to notice.
“Don’t you dare bring me back, girl,” he suddenly shouted, grabbing my arm, “Don’t let her bring me back, boy… I have lived a thousand lives. And who knows if the bastard’s curse is still festering inside me… But… Mira…” he paused, taking another slow breath, “Mira. you need to live through this. For any of this to make a difference. You need to… I’ve seen…”
He turned his attention back to Aixel, whose jaw was tight and lips pressed firm together.
“Boy… need to get her out of here. She needs to make it out of here alive… It’s so… it’s so…”
He was mumbling now, and his blinks began to slow. His grasp lightened around my arm before finally falling to the hard ground.
With a final turn to Aixel, he stared at the void mage for a few moments, before, with his final breaths, he muttered, “I’m so sorry, boy...”
Then, silence.
Silence.
The great blood mage Ciro was dead.