"At first the treacherous ones came with pleas and bargains. Back in the time when the highland orcs roamed the land and the humans were weak. But they endured and grew in power. And soon, the former friends and trade partners showed their cruel faces. Instead of pleas, they made demands. Instead of bargains, they determined the prices. Woe to us if we talked back. The haughty ones, secure in their new throne of power, soon turned their sights to Tir na nÓg. A Dungeon they said. They invaded and plundered the bounty of the fey realm. Our realm."

The old and wise elf lectured the children. As he spoke, illusions of mages slaughtering the wildlife, the fey, the elf-kin. All for the glory, the power, their cores. Millenia-old trees felled. Rare herbs plucked. Death and devastation left in their wake. The elves mounted a counterattack but their weapons and magic considered primitive by the human mages.

"Savages, they called us. And they slapped on our people a derogatory term. 'Demi-Human'. Part human. Inferior to humans. Such is the meaning of the term. To them, we were livestock. And they hunted us. They captured our wise druids and sorcerers and forced them to part with their secrets. They stole the very magic of the land. And so, Tir na nÓg diminished. We left our home. By treating our ancestral grounds like a dungeon, it indeed became so."

Some of the elven children wept, the feeling of loss, of being cast out from home too real in their collective consciousness.

"And now there are few of us. I fear you might be the last generation of our clan," the old elf waved a hand to encompass the less than two dozen younglings. "Our traditions die. Our wisdom is spent. Our knowledge, scattered and plundered. We are--"

The druid halted as he sensed the vibrations. Mechanical, rhythmical vibrations. Something heavy approached. The elder closed his eyes and projected his senses through the forest. And he saw it. Machines of stone and magic, driven by the will of humans. Powered by the crystallized lifeblood of the Earth. His eyes sprung open in terror.

"Golems!" He gasped.

The elf appeared to be a century older in moments. He raised his hand and waved, power seeping from his fingertips. A horn blared. The last elf warriors of the Tuatha De prepared to make their stand. The druid held back two of the youngest adults, less than a decade out of their rite of passing.

"You two, you do not fight today. The children. You take the children to the spirit grove. There they will be safe."

The rebellion of young quelled, the two young warriors nodded.

"Tolo'a'nin!" The warrior shouted and the children followed.

Megan looked behind her shoulder to see her grandfather one last time. For the last time. She hurried after the group, the last elf retreating from the soon-to-become slaughter field. The elder druid would not sell his life cheap though. She felt the hairs on her nape stand as he summoned the power of the forest itself to aid the people.

A knot threatened to rise in her throat and Megan choked on her sorrow as she ran, fighting the tears. First, her parents when they fled Tir na NÓg, and now her grandfather. Her last blood relative, crushed by human greed. The magocracy's thaumaturgical engines demanded the raw materials. In their minds, everything they reached belonged to them.

She tripped on a root as she crossed the treeline, a bit behind her group. Looking behind her, she could see the huge machines walking and spewing arcane death from their mounted wands. Behind the massive behemoths, mages and ordinary humans, wielding wands and spells of destruction.

Megan froze as she witnessed the battle. Not a battle, the slaughter. The elves' arrows and spells met the humans' mage shields and petered out. Not strong enough. The humans replied with a barrage of structured spells repeated tenfold across their battle line. The elves stood no chance.

She tried to move but her legs didn't answer. She tried to scream but terror stole her voice. Megan felt powerless. Weak.

Her grandfather fought bravely. Vines sprouted and crushed two golems. Fireballs exploded but the very earth rose to defend the druid, the ancient covenants between elf and nature upheld. And then he appeared. Robes fluttering with majesty as the human flew down from the heavens.

Meister Magnus.

Even Megan knew the name. Wizards were to him what newts were to apprentices. Magnus raised a huge diamond on the air and chanted. A dozen mandalas of pure light sprung to light around the floating archmage. And his detached, emotionless voice chanted a mighty spell.

"Imprisonment."

Megan's grandfather had no chance. His very being was sucked into the diamond, both body and soul. A warrior's death was denied to him. The pinnacle of disdain. The elder druid, now a trinket on a human mage's trophy case.

She closed her eyes, the tears seemingly made of acid burning her eyelids. Megan gritted her teeth and screamed without sound. She trembled with fear and outrage. The humans went and collected the corpses of the elves.

And then the unthinkable happened. Megan heard shouts coming from behind her, deep in the forest. The dryad grove should be safe for the elves, but even that the humans desecrated. She heard fireballs exploding before she felt the heat and saw the plume of smoke rising from where the last survivors of her clan fled to.

She heard shouts in elvish. Lightning bolts from the mages' wands. Megan looked around and saw a burrow, probably a fox den or the residence of some other animal of similar size. She knew she'd be found if she lingered there. Summoning her strength, Megan crawled and sought sanctuary in that burrow. She only hoped it was deserted.

In the darkness of the burrow, not even her elven eyes could see. She halted when she heard the thumping of feet.

"Halt and hush, little elfling. I mean no harm," Said an impish voice. "Although I crave for the tender flesh you carry within yourself, the scent of your blood and your death screams would draw the humans here and they would capture me. I'd rather fade into oblivion than become a slave to humans like the old druid," The creature chuckled.

Outrage defeat prudence and Megan roared. "That was my grandfather, you knave. For a thousand years he was the steward of this place. What foul creature would dare to smear his good name?"

"Foul indeed," The voice crowed. A faint light shone, a deep crimson casting sinister tones in the earthen tunnel. "For I am a redcap."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The fay took a step forward, the crimson light shining on his serrated yellow teeth and elevating his devilish grin into a deathly mockery.

"Then devour me, Redcap. I'd rather become food for the Unseelie than a test subject for the humans."

The redcap tilted his head. "I am afraid that is not to come to pass, little elfling. I have but a sliver of life remaining. The humans' magic polluted the ley lines. They desecrated the places of power, they trampled the mushroom rings. What was is no longer and I am already departing this mortal realm."

Megan sniffled, blinked and reached out. She touched the redcap's cheek. "Even though you are foul, there's nobility in you, redcap. It pains me that even more of the Aos Sídhe will perish today. If it pleases you, please take a nibble of my arm. I'm sure my blood will ease your passing."

To her surprise, the redcap bowed and didn't bite her.

"Your offering is acknowledged but rejected. Allow me to offer you a counter, young elfling. I sense the ancient power of the forest in you. You too have the gift of druidcraft just like your grandfather. Although there is more to you than what my foggy sight can perceive. You bear two souls, child. One is a genuine elven soul, ancient as the world and powerful as a storm. But the other is more alien and repulsive than anything I laid my sight on. You have a human soul, one that does not belong to this world. Your two souls are fused as one, entwined as lovers on a summer night might be. Both are you. And both resonate with diametrically opposite powers of great might.

"An old hag once told me I'd see such sight, a thousand years ago. I didn't believe her. But my offer is as such, child. Where two souls dwell, a third can wiggle itself in. Form a covenant with me. A pact. Take me as your familiar and make me a part of you. This way I'll feed on scraps of your magic and my life shall last as long as you do. I sense a great fate on you, one born to become either a great boon or a great ruin."

Mega did a double-take. "You wish to become my familiar? Redcap, I am no spellcaster."

"I know you have the potential," the fay replied with confidence. "If your grandfather taught you no spells, that is on him. But no. My power waned too much. I cannot become an ordinary familiar. What I offer is to become part of you. Instead of fading into oblivion, for the tarnished ley lines the humans polluted won't conduct my spirit back to Tir, I'll merge with you. My strength shall be yours to use as you see fit."

Megan clenched her eyebrows, "And so shall be your wickedness and malice, redcap. I can see through your intent."

The diminutive fey scoffed. "Alas, she who bears the soul of a human berates me on wickedness and malice."

Megan blushed and felt a deep pang of guilt and shame. It was her secret. She once walked the streets of Dublin as Megan the human preschooler, not as Megan the elf. The memories were fading but she could remember the concrete and cement, the painted steel of the playground. Glass and cars and airplanes. And no magic. But to her, that felt a lifetime ago. She'd been Megan the elf for almost a decade now.

"Give me your name, redcap. Give me your name and I'll consider your offer."

"Farumilstinkintis, at your service, milady," The redcap bowed again and Megal could see shaggy silver hair on the fay's wrinkled scalp. It was indeed an old one.

"Do you swear your offer is made in good faith, Farumilstinkintis? That you'll merge with my souls and become part of my power? That you harbor no other intent than survival?"

The fay shook its bulbous head. "No. I wish for vengeance upon the humans."

"That much is acceptable," Megan brushed her finger on the redcap's teeth and drew blood. "I accept your covenant. Come and enter a familiar pact with me. Become part of me, Farumilstinkintis. Lend me your power so we both survive and enact our vengeance on the humans."

The redcap licked her finger and shivered in pleasure at the taste of her blood. "So shall it be milady. I accept your covenant."

The body of the fey dissolved into motes of glimmering dust that floated on the air. At once, all the motes flew to Megan's body and infused themselves in her being, went deep into her metaphysical self and reforming as Farumilstinkintis' spirit, now deeply entrenched in her dual soul.

Overwhelmed by the merge, Megan fainted.

----------------------------------------

She woke up later and had no idea how long she was unconscious. Megan was starving. She crawled to the mouth of the burrow and saw sunlight outside. Cautious, she stopped to hear. She noticed someone was humming a folk song nearby. There was no sign of golems or armies of mages. Megan carefully crested the mouth of the burrow and assessed her surroundings. Near the tree above the burrow, a human was gathering herbs. He had a silver sickle and was doing a poor job of cutting the herb stems. The men were wearing combat armor.

She smelled magic on him and decided the man was a mage. Her stomach growled and she was surprised as she pondered that the mage should be delicious. 'Probably the redcap in me,' she mused.

Megan couldn't resist the urge to feed. She dropped on all fours and crawled next to the mage, the scent of faint enchantments around him. She looked around. There seemed to be no other humans around. She decided to strike and the redcap spirit taught her what to do.

To her horror, her jaw unhinged and her teeth morphed to the serrated fangs of the redcap. Her mouth grew to tremendous proportions and she bit down as she pounced the mage.

*CHOMP*

The head and half the torso vanished in her maw. The mage didn't even sigh, much less scream. Megan quickly bit down the rest of the mage's body without even swallowing. The bites vanished as soon as she closed her mouth.

She was assaulted by a wave of pleasure impossible to describe. It was as if the energy of the mage was infusing every corner of her being. Megan held a hand over her mouth to avoid making any sound. After a few minutes, she regained control of her body and decided to get away from there. She tucked the sickle, the only remnant of the mage on her belt and walked deeper into the forest. Half a mile away, she found a big tree she could climb to get a bird's eye view of the surroundings as its trunk rose above the others.

The prepubescent elf was light as a plume. She balanced herself on a high branch and looked around. She saw smoke rising from the east and focused. There they were. The humans had cleared a section of the forest, cutting or destroying trees. Their tents were numerous, dozens upon dozens. She could see the golems, four of them parked side-by-side and two lumps of rocks, the ones her grandfather destroyed.

Megan wanted to go there and destroy everything. She knew she wouldn't last a minute though. She searched but couldn't find any prisoners. She did find an open wagon with elf corpses piled up and her blood boiled.

She vowed to cause as much damage to these humans as she could.

Turning to the other side, she tried to find the dryad glade. At the location she thought it was, she gasped in terror as she saw another two golems cutting down the ancient trees. Her heart ached when she imagined the dryads, enslaved or destroyed. And her fellow elflings, that fled there seeking refuge.

She couldn't be the last of her tribe to keep her freedom. It was... dreadful.

Megan's bout of survivor's guilt ended when she saw mages flying around. It wasn't safe to stay on the treetops. She deftly climbed down and paused in the middle, waiting for the mage patrol to go away. After the mages went around her tree and changed paths to return to camp, she returned to the ground level and walked to the dryad grove.

She took care to step on roots, rocks or more solid patches of dirt as to leave as few tracks as she could. Megan had the home ground advantage. A quarter of an hour later, she approached the grove. She saw more mages with combat armor, workers and the golem operators. They were cutting down the dryad trees. She focused to listen to their conversation.

One mage whistled. "What a windfall! That wood will make us rich."

"We got lucky. Not only we found the elves that fled and obtained three spirits. Can you imagine how many HDM these dryad spirits will fetch on the auction? The spirits will make us rich, Samson. That wood will become wands and amulets but that is cheap. Laying the enchantments on the wood is the expensive part. But we are soon going home. The meister got his druid, we got spirits. Mission accomplished."

"And the elves won't bother us anymore," Samson added.

"Yes. This forest soon will be reclassified as a green zone. With the elves gone, the other critters and fay will move out naturally. The dirt here is mana-enriched. It will be used to grow premium crops in a few years."

Megan didn't stay to listen to the rest. She withdrew, taking care to not let her emotions flare. Directing killing intent toward mages could trigger their magical instincts, especially if they had any training in divination. That would be bad. She went away and deeper into the forest.