Epilogue: General Aïska

She stands in front of the white tent, surrounded by a sea of darker colours. Soldiers walk past her, all wearing the golden armour of Zulis. They nod at her or even salute, gently laying their index and middle finger on the dragonfly emblem while putting the other arm behind their backs.

With a nod, general Aïska dismisses them and resumes staring at the white tent. White is only used by the high command and the High Court. Just thinking of it makes her throat feel dry. She can already hear the voices of the other generals already inside, casually talking and waiting for everyone to join.

An arm wraps around her shoulder or at least tries to. “I’ve always hated that you are so tall, Aïska,” the annoying voice says.

Slowly she turns towards the owner of the annoying voice. “It’s general Aïska, general Eve,” she replies sternly.

Eve steps back and makes an over-exaggerated shrug, making the black hair that reaches her shoulders sway with the movement, “You’re always so serious. Can’t you like tone it down? Even at the academy, you were like this. Always that frown plastered to your face.” A smile creeps on the short woman’s face, “Ahh how amazing that time was. You know, I even had a bet with a couple of guys on who could make you laugh or at least smile first.”

AÏska’s eyes moves over from the daunting, white tent, to her best friend. “Was that the reason why you were suddenly living a month like you were royalty?”

Eve nods, “Yep. Was lots of fun. Should do that again after this event ends. Anyways, why are you standing in front of the tent? Weren’t we all summoned? You do know that that means that you have to go into the tent, right?”

General Aïska stares into the cloudy grey eyes of her friend. Not biting she nods, “I know. It's…” she trails off.

Eve nods, “Kind of scary? I feel the same way. Never did I think I would be allowed into one of the white tents. But look at us now. Two generals leading their own forces into war.” With only a minuscule amount of effort, Eve puts her hand on Aïska’s shoulder and pushes her forwards.

Letting Eve push her, she moves towards the tent, “Let’s just enter. It’s no big deal. They’ll probably start with a speech, discuss the event and the orders we’ll have. Then we have to head into the forest and gain some of those sweet event store points.”

Aïska rolls her eyes but doesn’t complain. How her friend can be so casual right before meeting the strongest people of Zulis, she doesn’t know.

She steps into the tent and her ears pop when she sets foot in the bubble of expanded space. Before her lies a large hardwood room that resembles the inside of an inn more than the war room she expected it to be.

Eve doesn’t seem surprised and pulls on AÏska’s arm towards one of the tables where the other commanders are lazing.

Without effort, Eve starts to mingle with them. Aïska stands to the side, sizing up the other generals. Most here she could take down. Except for general Liaz. That lightning would be difficult to deal with.

Literally, she gets pulled into the conversation by Eve. Once again the shorter woman grabs onto her arm and pulls her into the seat next to her. “So we were just talking about that new interesting recruit. The one who sets her sword on fire. You met her right Aïska?” Eve asks. Like quicksand, she can feel herself sink deeper under the gazes of the other generals.

“I’ve met her before,” she says, shutting the conversation down. The other generals wilt under her gaze, except for Liaz. He stares at her, tilts his head to the side and downs another mug of his drink.

Slowly, she can feel herself climb out of the pit of quicksand this conversation is with no one willing to speak up under her glare.

Eve stares at her and gives that devilish grin she always wears when she…

“Aïska. Tell us about her. Does she have talent? Any chance she will join our ranks?” Eve asks with an impish grin on her face.

The quicksand swallows her whole as the conversation sparks up again. Everyone looks at her expectantly. Almost, she wants to stand up and leave the tent. She doesn’t have time for this. She has a forest to burn and revenge to take.

But she knows that this is the fastest way to do it. The human scouting parties have barely met any resistance wandering the outskirts. The army is almost ready to delve into the centre of that forest and burn down that largest tree.

Aïska rolls her eyes, “I’ve spoken with her once when she was recruiting soldiers for her team. She was…set on her goal. In her place, I would be the same. Looking at what that mandrake had done with her face. I would burn the whole forest down for revenge.”

“But what about her? Do you think she will join our ranks?” Eve whines.

“Never. She isn’t a leader. She is a hunter,” Aïska says and forcefully ends the conversation. Physically, she turns away from the conversation to observe the other occupants of the inn-like room while listening in to the conversation they are having.

There is the usual separation between the wing of the army that is under the jurisdiction of the King and the part that fervently follows the Church. War is brutal and no place for belief, at least according to her. There is only the enemy that needs to be killed, only the command that has to be carried out. Nothing more, nothing less.

She continues to scan the room and finds her eyes falling on Fire Penelope and Samson sitting next to each other. Aïska’s eyes meet her eyebrows as she watches the events unfold between them.

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Penelope conjures fire in her hand and shapes it into a burning rose that opens up, each petal sculpted so delicately that the flower might as well be real. She hands it to Samson, blushing.

The stoic man doesn’t look amused. He lifts his mug of ale above the rose and pours the contents on the rose, extinguishing it. Samson stands up and walks away to another table, his face having taken on a hint of sourness.

Aïska’s eyes continue roving around the room. Interesting displays of emotion and affection play out all around her. She could memorise it all, blackmailing them later for any shred of an advantage.

It isn’t what she wants. All she wants is revenge for that young man, still staring into empty space in front of him. Several times she wondered what he was seeing in that empty space. Is he reliving the torture they put him through? Counting down the seconds he has until some curse the weedlings put on him activates?

She doesn’t know. And part of her doesn’t want to know. If even one of the theories she has been formulating in her mind over the last few days is true…it would make her reckless, and she can’t have that.

To win this event, this war, she has to be the sharpest. Emotions couldn’t, wouldn’t, dull her. She will be the sharpest, cutting through the enemy lines, deep into their forests, like the perfect blade; the perfect weapon.

A gathering on a podium captures her attention. Men and women in white clothes, the same as the tent, walk out and look over the crowd. She feels one of them sizing them up, unafraid of anything she looks right back into those eyes. What she sees are deep blue eyes, so much water that she might drown in it, or be crushed by the pressure in a single second.

Her eyes flick away, instinctually. Gritting her teeth she looks back again at the man with the ocean-blue eyes. Aïska’s heart skips a beat when she finds those eyes still looking at her. Pushing further, she holds contact, feeling her lungs fill up with water, feeling the pressure on her body, her lungs aching for air. She can hear the rushing of the waves, tides crashing against the land, swallowing any unsuspecting victim.

The man smirks, his teeth glinting pearly white like a shark’s. Like a predator, he sizes up his prey again. Seemingly satisfied he nods and moves on, surveying the rest of the crowd.

Air fills her lungs again, the pressure lifts away as if nothing had happened. Slowly she takes another breath, her lungs still aching. Aïska wipes the sweat off her forehead and looks over the rest of the crowd again.

Most of them seem to be getting sized up by the high command too. And most seem to be breaking under it. Finally seeing something interesting she turns back to the table.

A woman she doesn’t know is sweating excessively, but it quickly evaporates off her skin. She can almost smell the woman’s clothes burning.

And someone is doing that all with just a tiny bit of magic and their aura.

Looking over the rest of the group, she sees a man almost coughing up water, and another man trembling under pressure, so much that even the chair he is sitting on groans.

Her gaze lands on general Liaz he doesn’t seem to be influenced much. Only his hand on the wooden mug is clenched around the handle. His robes are gently swaying around him, almost as if to defend him from it all.

When Aïska looks into his eyes she pauses. In his irises and pupils lightning crackles and sparkles. The jagged streaks of light flash several times a second, almost making it seem like his eyes are constantly shattering like marbles. Finally, the lightning stops and he takes another gulp from his mug.

Last she looks at her best friend Eve, already knowing the outcome. Eve is sitting on the chair looking at the stage directly staring at the person who is trying to push her around with their aura. Like a small child, she is fidgeting on her chair while humming a nursery rhyme.

Eve always passed tests like these with flying colours. Aïska isn’t sure if it’s talent or her sheer stupidity.

Eve nods back at the person she was having a staring contest with and turns to Aïska. “Those things are always fun. I think she’s like Liaz,” she says in her cheery tone.

Having learned long ago to not comment on it, they watch the rest being tested. To Aïska’s surprise, two of the generals are actually forced out of the tent.

Then finally the speech begins. A hulking man, more scar than skin, steps forwards. “Generals,” he says, his voice even grander than his stature. “We are here to tell you how we will take this forest down.”

The man clears his throat and starts to speak even louder, “First we advance deep into their territory. The dryads are planning to hold out and slowly grow stronger over the course of this event. We will not let that happen! We will begin whittling them down from the start so that they will crumble to pieces later on. This also allows us to score the most points in the shortest amount of time, making our forces even stronger.

“In several days’ time, materials that will help us improve the teleportation platform and will allow us to send larger forces through will appear. When the platform has been upgraded, three hundred thousand soldiers will be sent our way. Half of those soldiers will be divided up into small groups that some of you must coordinate and lead. The rest of you will lead battalions on the front, pushing deeper into the forest.”

People start to whisper to each other, telling each other what or who they want to be in charge of. Aïska only hopes that she gets to lead a few battalions instead of coordinating with smaller groups under her command. She wants to lead from the front, not the back. She wants to take her own revenge. And she will have it.

The large man continues, “We,” he gestures to people standing on his right and left wearing simple yet unique white clothes, excluding the golden dragonfly symbol. “Have just tested you. The ones who performed the best will get to lead the largest armies. The rest? You will coordinate groups. Now raise your hand when your name is called,” the man says and steps backwards.

Another woman with long blonde hair steps forward. One by one she lists names and tells them who and what they are in charge of.

“General Eve Mayfield.” She says in her soft tone that manages to echo throughout the room.

Next to her, Eve stands up, “Yes ma’am.” Eve says and salutes, putting her fingers on the dragonfly.

The blonde woman takes a moment to look over Eve and nods, “You will be assigned as the leader of six battalions.” There are gasps all around the room.

She is about to move on to the next name on the list, but Eve speaks up, “Ma’am. Can I request to be put in charge of valuable groups instead? It suits me more,” she says her tone more formal and serious than Aïska can remember.

The room freezes as everyone looks at her as if she is insane. The woman in white clothes smirks and nods, “After this is finished come find me. Now…general Aïska.”

Aïska bursts out of her chair and moves fluidly into a Zuzillian salute. Eyes straight ahead she meets the blonde woman’s gaze. “You will command an army of four thousand soldiers.” Her heart starts to flutter in her chest.

She doesn’t show it. She grabs the chair which had fallen over and sits down again, listening to the long list of names, seeing people wincing or looking around elated.

A place on the front lines. She would be a blade. No, a scalpel, carefully cutting away flesh until she finds the valuable insides of Luxia.

She, general Aïska leader of four thousand soldiers, will avenge every fallen soldier; will be their undying flame, leaving only ash in her wake as she burns the trees in her path, be they dryad hearts or not. She shall reclaim all they lost, starting with the land and ending with the very first outpost that was taken by the weedlings.

Nothing will remain after justice has been carried out.