Rory POV
Years later…
I followed my dad’s diary, saw the sandy beaches of Mermia, explored the Queen’s Fortress, danced with the pirates of Parlay Passage, and met the Ogres of De’Val. Yet, I still came back here. I returned to Gleaca at the request of Myrra. Gleaca erupted into war when the council fell. Solis began conquering the continent not long after we left. First, Kanna fell. The Wizard’s Guild and Desfyra held out for a year or more. The orcs of the Blackfoot Hills abandoned Gleaca for the shores of De’Val. Silas returned to Gleaca some time ago to free his sister from the clutches of the King of Solis. Mauve’s Forest was burned to the ground, and the dwarves are holding out for now.
Currently, I stand at the foot of the Imber Mountains where I once hid from a sorry excuse for a dark elf. Smoke filled the air. Every way you turned, ash was falling like raindrops from Mauve’s Forest. My memory of this place was when it was covered in the first snowfall of winter. The once golden acres on the edge of the forest were nothing but cinders. I don’t understand how, but the puppet king of Solis has divided the continent of Gleaca. All out has been waged. I stand here now on the battlefield defending the dwarves or Galin from the scum of Solis. My disguise is no more. I am the Red Lady of Lightning who raises the ground and strikes her enemies down.
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My black attire is sleek to increase my speed. My lone earring that marks where Ema once shot my ear with her arrow. I carry both of my daggers at my waist at the bottom of my back. My tail floats in the wind as shreds of my form-fitting cloak float around me. A red band of light like long ribbons shines as I build up my mana for my next electric burst. My magic is smooth, purposeful, and deadly accurate as I unleash the next ball of electricity toward the necromancer facing me. This poor fool will die here at my hand for his war crimes against the fairies of the forest.
The whole landscape is colorless without fairy magic here. The only bits of color scattered across the battle are remnants of fairy wings clinging to the ground. Too much heat burns fairy wings to a crisp until they fall to pieces like colorful shards of glass. Most of the fairies died here today, but I managed to save a few. They are safe in the Kingdom of Galin for now. After all the horrible things that I have witnessed, arriving at this battlefield was one of the worst. Today, I pledge to free Gleaca one step at a time from the wickedness of King Piggy Zarranos of Solis, or as most call him, the Master Zaros of Gleaca.