The dreaded day had finally arrived, and it was a day just as horrible as Aymon and Faelyn once knew it would be. Dreary, bloated clouds smothered the gray sky above, appearing as though they would burst at any moment and flood the land below. Dull, lifeless trees clawed their way upwards, their dead leaves carried in spirals across the plains on cutting winds.

Mother Nature shared none of her beauty on this morning, and why would she? This was the Day of Reckoning, a day on which a monstrous, tragic tradition would be upheld for the fifth time this century.

Faelyn gripped her sword tightly, her deep blue eyes unwavering under the influence of the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Across from her stood Aymon who was similarly holding his sword with a fierce grasp. His dark eyes were more reminiscent of voids than the pools that Faelyn once compared to the majesty of the night sky.

The two young elves stood across the plains from each other, a single rotting tree between them. Robed figures encircled them, their features hidden behind the hoods of their purple and gold shrouds. Despite this, their piercing gazes were very much felt.

Every eighteen years, in the Elven Kingdom of Karis, two children are born who will live for a single purpose: to face one another in a battle to the death. This battle will occur on the eve of their adulthood—when the pair reaches the age of eighteen. The pair picked for this battle of fate will always be the two best and brightest young elves as identified by the council. The winner of these battles would go on to become members of the council and help shape the future political direction of Karis in coordination with the current king or queen.

Karisian legends state that this tradition is crucial to the thriving of Karis, for if the Karisian people are willing to display to the gods that they would only allow the very best to lead their kind, alongside the ruler of noble birth, then their people would undoubtedly be showered in lavish gifts from above.

The pair chosen could be anyone from the kingdom. It did not matter how rich or poor they were, nor their gender or other personal qualities. So long as they were identified as the very best of their peers by the standards of the council, they were eligible for the Day of Reckoning.

This time, it had been decided that Aymon Chaelen and Faelyn Yesvaris would be the fated duo. This conclusion had been reached through the same methods used for generations prior. There was only one problem: for the first time since the introduction of the Day of Reckoning tradition, these two young elves were not simply peers—they were lovers.

Aymon Chaelen was the son of a baker, overlooked by most passersby. An elf best described as unremarkable to most who would be asked, Aymon was gifted with a bright mind best described as a steel trap. His ability to memorize and understand anything imparted to him after hearing or seeing them only once had been useful only for academic achievement and learning his father's baking techniques, he thought. He never imagined his gift would put him in the position he found himself in now.

Faelyn Yesvaris was the daughter of a blacksmith. Her beauty was not missed by a single pair of eyes that fell upon her captivating form, but that was far from what made her special. Her athletic abilities were unsurpassed for all eighteen years of her upbringing. Her parents had not trained her, and they were far from athletic specimens themselves. No, Faelyn's gifts were all her own, as mysterious in origin as her beauty, which far eclipsed that of her parents. Like Aymon, she never imagined that she could end up in her current situation because of something she deemed so trivial.

But while Aymon and Faelyn never viewed themselves as anything special, they saw the world in each other. They had met for the first time at the tender age of six, and it was love at first sight.

Aymon was hardly the first boy to be entranced by Faelyn's magnificence, but it was more than her looks that put him under her spell. No, it was the way she cared for everyone around her. Day in and day out, he would catch sight of her flowing, raven hair roaming about the halls of their school as she helped everyone she possibly could. Her nickname as the "elven angel" had been well earned, he thought. And even from such a young age, he couldn't imagine living without her heart belonging to him.

In contrast, Faelyn might have well been the only girl to see something in the young baker's son. Despite his talents, he never did seem to accrue much attention. Faelyn couldn't understand why not, however. To her, the way he played with his mid-length, snow white hair as he focused so intently on his instructor's words was the cutest thing in the kingdom. The way in which he never had to be told anything twice impressed her deeply, and she was desperate to know more of him. Quite often, her minded wandered to the idea of what calling him hers would be like, and soon enough, she decided that she couldn't live without making her fantasy reality.

At the age of ten, the pair made their dreams come true.

It was right there, underneath the tree that was barely standing between them. On that bright Spring morning, Faelyn had decided to do it. She had grown sick of enduring offer after offer from boys she felt nothing for, all the while watching the apple of her eye slink to the back of the crowd. It may not have been customary for a female elf to present an offer to a male elf, but tradition didn't matter to her. Like every athletic trial she had handled with frightening ease before, she would just do it. It was that simple to her.

She had walked right up to the boy who sat beneath the once lush tree, eating a juicy, pink peach and poked his arm vigorously. He nearly spat the contents of his mouth when he noticed it was the girl he had admired so deeply who had touched him.

"I like you, please be mine," she had said so calmly and with the precision of an assassin.

Aymon had never felt his heart race so fast before, it was uncomfortably distracting for him. Yet, he composed himself enough to say, "I-I like you too, Faelyn. Of course, I will be yours!"

The gasps this exchange garnered became legendary in their own right for the years that would follow.

As the pair grew into their teens, so too did their love. Aymon continued to achieve milestone after milestone in his academics as he endured the wrath of jealous boys who deemed him unworthy of the gorgeous Faelyn. Faelyn, meanwhile, claimed the record for every athletic activity in the kingdom while rejecting unwanted offers from boys on a daily basis.

Every free moment the two elves had; they were together. It was not uncommon to find them there, underneath that tree, sharing a passionate kiss. Just like when they were kids, the pair disregarded the norms of public affection quite often as they simply could not stop themselves from expressing their love for one another when their hearts called upon them to.

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By the age of seventeen, Aymon and Faelyn had already been making plans to be wed. There was only one year left of their obligations as students left to tend to. After that was over, they would get married and move to the countryside to start the family they had fantasized about as they shared romantic lunches under that infamous tree.

But their fantasies came to an end that same year, as the two individually received notice from representatives of the council that they had been selected as the two most suitable for future council status and, thus, as combatants in the next year's traditional Day of Reckoning.

Horrified, the young couple contemplated fleeing the kingdom they proudly called home all their lives. However, the council had researched the pair thoroughly, and even though this would be the first time a fated duo would turn out to be romantically involved, the tradition would be upheld, they decided. Thus, Aymon and Faelyn were arrested and detained by agents of the council in separate quarters for the entire year. They were instructed in the battle to come and fitted for their armor and weapons.

The young elves knew all about the Day of Reckoning and its bloody history, it had been taught to them since childhood. But they had never considered themselves as potential candidates for the tradition that they had both privately agreed was quite barbaric. But now that they were separated and marked for the battle to the death, Aymon and Faelyn individually voiced their fury with the council and demanded to be released from their detainment.

The council knew they could never get the lovers to willingly fight one another, let alone kill each other. As a result, it was decided that the one-year detainment period would be used to "reeducate" Aymon and Faelyn. They would be taught to understand the fragile balance that the council and the royal bloodline believed upheld the greatness of the Kingdom of Karis.

Locked away in small rooms that were barely more than glorified prison cells, Aymon and Faelyn were only let out to attend their "lessons" on the importance of the Day of Reckoning. Each day the elves endured their situations, their resolve broke down just a bit more, and soon enough, their passionate affections for one another had begun to fade in their minds. Gone were the fantasies of a cottage full of children and romantic dinners under the stars by the river. Now, Aymon and Faelyn found themselves dreaming of guiding the royal family and bringing glory to the Kingdom of Karis.

Just as it always had, the Day of Reckoning arrived, and now, the once inseparable couple stood across from one another, trading gazes filled not with love, but with murderous intent.

The decision had been made by the council to make the battleground for the destined day the tree that had been the stage for much of the two elves' lives as a couple. There was a poetic quality to that choice that the robed individuals envisioned would provide romantic glorification to future couples selected for these battles. It had also been decided that the loser of the day's battle would be buried beneath the old tree.

"Begin the battle," one of the councilmen ordered.

Faelyn slowly unsheathed her sword. Its blade and hilt both glowed a brilliant silver that shined even without a sun in the sky. She dug her heel into the grass and readied herself into a battle stance. Her long, dark hair was tied into a high, flowing ponytail that swam down the back of her midnight purple and dark gray armor. The look in her eyes was devoid of any warmth.

Another razor sharp, howling wind blew through the grass, fluttering Aymon's white hair as he too unsheathed his blade. His sword was less elegant than Faelyn's, but it was much larger. He held the heavy silver and brown blade at his side in a clenched grip and took a stance. His armor was a dull gray with crimson accents that resembled the maw of a beast. The stare he presented was empty.

The councilmen leaned in, curiously. This would be the ultimate battle, they suspected. Aymon represented the purest representation of intelligence and strategy. Surely, his ability to learn anything after seeing it only once would manifest as a formidable advantage in this fight. They wondered, however, if it would be enough to make up for the overwhelming physical advantage Faelyn would have over him. After all, there wasn't a single person who could match her speed, power, and flexibility in the whole of Karis.

In the end, what would win out, brains or brawn? It wouldn't be long before that question was answered.

Faelyn promptly made the first move, dashing forward towards her former lover. As she neared him, she spun elegantly on her heel like a ballerina, spinning the blade in his direction with a move that threatened to sever him in half at the midriff. Though her movement was swift, Aymon was able to raise his sword in time to block the attack.

The dark-haired elf growled, for she knew that any attack that she tried that didn't finish the job couldn't be repeated. Aymon's unique gift meant that he would be able to counter anything he had seen at least once. She quickly made peace with the wasted move and awaited his response.

Aymon unclasped his sword from hers and swung it wildly in her direction. His movement was forceful but slow. Faelyn dodged his attack with ease and rolled back out of the way. She knew she had a physical advantage over her foe, but something about his slowness struck her as odd. However, there was no time for thinking. Her mind coursed with thoughts of the future glory she could endow upon Karis as a member of the prestigious council. The only thing standing between her and that glory was the man before her.

Aymon swung, and then swung once more. Both attempts were misses and just as slow as the initial slash that Faelyn had dodged effortlessly. The woman stayed on the defensive for the moment, studying her opponent's motions, taking great care not to waste another attack and risk losing the ability to use it again. If she was going to strike, it needed to connect and do some degree of damage. Another miss wouldn't do.

Faelyn's eyes locked with Aymon's. Where is the fire? She wondered. The purple and gray clad elf didn't need a mirror to know that her eyes carried the love for her kingdom in their stare, but his gaze hadn't changed since the fight began. His dark eyes remained passionless voids that bore holes through her. It was beginning to disturb and infuriate her.

"Where is your fire?!" she demanded. "Where is your love for this beautiful kingdom!?"

He provided no response, something that agitated her even more. In retaliation, Faelyn began to carry out her next offensive.

Using her impressive speed, Faelyn dashed forward once again. Aymon swung his sword once more, but the quick elf used her own blade to parry his and then slid on the grass the rest of the distance to her foe. When she closed the gap between them, she leapt to her feet and thrust the blade forwards. To her surprise, it penetrated his armor and pierced his chest with ease. She had been aiming to kill, of course, but she didn't think this would be the attack to do it. The councilmen seemed taken aback as well.

Aymon spat a mouthful of blood and dropped his sword to the ground. He gripped the blade of Faelyn's sword in his hand and allowed it to slice into his palm, pulling it deeper inside him, to the surprise of his opponent.

"Why...?!" Faelyn asked, staring into his eyes that were at first empty but now welling up with tears and overt emotion.

"Because," Aymon managed through a wet, bloody cough. "I never forget, remember? They made you forget it, but I could never forget our love..."

Tears began to form in Faelyn's eyes, but she couldn't understand why. What love? She thought as she watched the life drain from his eyes quickly.

"Live on for me, Faelyn. I'll love you forever," Aymon gasped, taking his final breath and crumbling to the ground.

The councilmen began to clap, breaking the silence that fell upon the air along with Aymon. At the same time, the heavy clouds above finally seemed to burst, and a heavy downpour began to rain down from seemingly nowhere.

Faelyn remained unphased by both the rain and the congratulations of the councilmen. Her gaze remained fixed on the young man lying in an ever-growing pool of blood on the ground, run through by her sword. She couldn't make sense of any of it, but she fixed her lips to say the three words that had entered her mind the same time her blade entered his flesh.

"I love you."