They had run far enough. The Trelvenese didn’t seem to be pursuing them anymore. The weary Foresters sat down on the grass to catch their breath, unable to process what had just befallen their entire force.

Elethien was placed down from Teion’s back, her body gradually returning to a relatively normal state. Her greatswords and wings had disappeared, the adrenaline from earlier finally cooling down as she assessed the damage from the defeat.

Yes. A defeat. Even with Fate’s blessing, they had only barely escaped from the trap. She prayed, and her God answered. She received power equal to, or perhaps even greater than the most eminent of mages that came before her. She fought to her greatest ability, cutting down enemy soldiers like a farmer during harvest season.

And even with all of this, there were barely any of them left after that disaster.

‘One hundred and ninety six,’ Teion reported solemnly. ‘That’s how many of us are left.’

They had begun the battle with many hundreds of Foresters. Less than a third of them survived.

It should’ve been obvious. They were marching into a trap laid by an enemy force over ten times their number. Elethien should’ve considered herself lucky to not have been killed in that battle.

But it didn’t make sense. She was blessed by Fate. Her God promised her protection and victory. She felt joy when Fate used half of her body as sacrifice, but now that the battle had finished, there was nothing left. Physically, her body was still very much intact and only lightly injured. But she felt a chunk of herself being ripped apart, never to return.

It couldn’t be. She promised to protect every one of her people. Her wings formed an invincible shield that should’ve guarded them all. Instead, she only protected herself. In the end, the greatswords couldn’t even cause a dent in the enemy’s numbers, nevermind killing the commander. An entire day’s battle, and all she had to show for it were immense casualties and a broken army of exhausted warriors.

She felt weak. No, she was weak. She promised so much to her people and ended up breaking every single one of them. She could’ve protected all of them right from the battle’s start. She could’ve prevented the initial setbacks. She could’ve stopped the Foresters from advancing too far. After all, she was the only one with a relatively clear mind at the time.

And yet she did none of that. The price: hundreds upon hundreds of her best troops, never to see her dream become realised, if at all.

‘My God, is this punishment for my mistakes? That my people are to die for my guilt?’

Fate did not answer.

She arched her head upwards, shouting to the clouds, ‘Am I not faithful enough to you? Is this the result of my weakness? Tell me, my God!’

There was nothing.

She heaved, tears welling up from her eyes. ‘TELL ME, MY GOD!’

The others glanced at her for a moment before lowering their heads back down. Deep down inside where the last sliver of Elethien’s rationality still remained, she knew it was their fault. If she hadn’t gone with them, the entire vanguard would’ve been annihilated. They were fighting a battle they had no chance of winning. Yet instead of stopping after the enemy began to retreat, they became cocky and arrogant, thinking their tiny number could easily overwhelm an army numbering in the tens of thousands. Elethien had already done all that she could, rescuing them from the gates of death in order to give the kingdom another day.

But she wouldn’t accept this explanation.

She had the backing of the God who created the world. She was supposed to be invincible. The Kingdom of Foresters was supposed to be invincible. They were supposed to win victory after victory until their kingdom spanned across the world.

Yet, one month into their fight, they had already suffered a crippling defeat. The enemy toyed with them, slaughtering them like sheep. Except for Elethien, none of them had any chance to escape. They were completely stupid, walking into such an obvious trap.

And all of this was Elethien’s fault. As the leader, she couldn’t even control her own people. Despite being by far the most powerful of them all, she could only protect a small portion of her army. All of this shouldn’t have even happened under her watch.

She fell to the ground, weeping with some Foresters soon following suit. They had such hope to build a completely new domain, but it was already practically crushed. All because of their collective idiocy in the one thing they should’ve known: warfare.

‘We can’t just stay here,’ Teion said as he approached her. ‘The battle is lost, but we still need to find the rest of us and regroup together.’

‘As if you also didn’t play a part in all this!’ Elethien yelled.

Teion had gone directly against her orders, charging towards the trap with the others. As the second-in-command and her most trusted companion, he should’ve known better. Yet he reacted as if nothing happened, as if he was just here to lead without taking any consequences.

‘Go lead us to the rest of the group, then!’ she continued. ‘If you talk as if you can lead the entire kingdom, then act on it like a leader!’

‘I’m not saying that—’

‘Then what are you saying? Huh? HUH?’ she screamed.

‘I said we should find the rest of us TOGETHER!’ Teion responded angrily. ‘If you want to stay here and cry to the God only you can talk to, then just do it! But we, as warriors of the Kingdom of Foresters, can’t just disappear after one defeat! We need to move forward!’

He took a heavy sigh. ‘If you’re not ready to lead the troops right now, I will temporarily take your place,’ he said as he lowered his voice. ‘But we all need you, Elethien. This kingdom is nothing without you. When you’re being weak, everyone will also become weak. So please, I beg you, cry to your heart’s content after we find the rest of us.’

She opened her mouth in indignation, but no words came out. She couldn’t even argue properly against her direct subordinate and companion.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

She slumped over, completely defeated by Teion’s words. ‘Fine, do as you want.’

With that, he stood up and addressed the Foresters. Elethien couldn’t be bothered to hear what he said, but soon, everyone was already marching towards a certain direction, the distant glow of torches being able to be seen. In just a few words, Teion had already strengthened the warriors to an extent, leading them at the very front as they set off to reunite with the others. Elethien followed reluctantly behind, her head drooped down.

Just earlier, her magic had saved all of them from certain ruin, Fate flooding her with its blessings as she slaughtered nearly every enemy before her. Now, she was just a walking husk, following Teion’s lead as everyone was. There was no aura of a leader, no words she could use to motivate her people. Her sword felt particularly heavy by her side, dragging her down with every step. She had no strength left to protect them.

She was just a tall Forester woman who had grand delusions of invincibility.

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

They finally arrived at the camp. Teion was right. The rest of the Foresters were all here, completely safe from harm. They all rushed up in concern for the warriors, but Elethien felt none of the warmth. She was tired. She wanted everything to just be over with. Fate was still supposedly by her side, but she felt emptiness. Everyone just blurred in front of her eyes, becoming unrecognisable silhouettes who wanted to help her for whatever reason.

‘We’re resting for the night. Lead us to our tents.’ She couldn’t be bothered to even greet the Forester who came out for her.

‘My God, is this what you wanted to show me?’ she mumbled as she entered her tent. ‘Please, give me that power once more so I can feel strong… I want to feel that at least I have something. We lost, so you decided to show me this wretch, huh… I want victory, my God. Victory… every single time. You promised me everything. Why aren’t you following your promises? Why, why, why…’

Thinking there was no one, she instead found her white-haired prisoner sitting with his hands still tied together, his expression somehow being brighter than hers.

Of course he was feeling good. As the crown prince of the enemy, he was probably celebrating their defeat on the inside.

Of course. He was gloating over her at this moment, mocking her with his bright expressions.

She looked even worse than her prisoner.

‘You…’ Her anger, suppressed earlier in the march back, now bubbled forth in all intensity. All she could see was his disgusting face. After all that she’d done in keeping him alive and relatively healthy, holding all those conversations, thinking as if he was actually an interesting person to keep… After all of that, he was mocking, humiliating her after her defeat.

He was the embodiment of everything she did wrong, the representation of her defeats, laughing at her from his pedestal.

She had enough of all this.

She marched towards him, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him straight down towards the ground.

He needed to learn his place.

‘Ack!’ he croaked.

What a disgusting voice.

She went around him and kicked his abdomen, sending him to the centre pole of the tent. It shuddered as he spat out blood. He grimaced in pain, his face twisted and contorted as he gasped for air.

It wasn’t enough.

She kicked him again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again…

‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH?’ she screamed, not even caring if he could muster a response. ‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’

She breathed heavily as her body began to heat up. But even then, she would not stop. This was his deserved punishment. He had no right to resist. He was a punching bag for her anger, for everything that she had gone through.

He was a sacrificial animal whose only purpose for her right now was to be tortured for its sins. An animal she would defile so that her own guilt would be washed away.

She couldn’t stop screaming. She didn’t know what she was screaming. She was overwhelmed with anger. She knew that. That was the point. She couldn’t stop releasing her fury towards that helpless prisoner. And he deserved so much more than just violent beatings.

‘Elethien—’ a Forester said as he entered her tent.

‘GET OUT!’ she shrieked. The man shrunk away, terrified at her twisted expression.

The tent wasn’t fitting for her to exact her punishments. She dragged the half-dead prisoner outside, exiting the camp as the others attempted to ignore the scene. He was mumbling, whimpering for her mercy. He would have none.

She reached an area where it was sufficiently far away from the camp. There was no one to disturb her. The trees hid her from the bright torches. He was free for her to torture.

She slapped his pale, smooth face. Even after these weeks in captivity, he had the aura of nobility, of a distant class whose lives could be bargained instead of killed. The commander could’ve easily let her and the Foresters go all for a single individual. That was how much her prisoner was worth compared to everyone else.

She hated it. She slapped him until his cheeks were puffed up with bruises, his eyes barely able to open themselves. But that wasn’t enough.

She sat down on his body. He gave no response. He was too weak to give any. Tearing his clothes apart, she finally saw the naked animal underneath those rags. His malnourished, slim body was still grossly beautiful, his skin of a man who never had to suffer a day of his life.

He had no right to be that handsome. He was simply born in a higher position of power, able to inherit a kingdom without any effort. She had her God, her powers, her people… and even then, it amounted to nothing.

No, she wasn’t weak. She was just unfortunate. And that made it even more humiliating.

The bruises. She noticed them. The bruises on his body, blemishes all caused by her just earlier. Imperfections that dragged him down from his pedestal. Hidden by his clothes earlier, he was finally exposed. This was her creation, formed as a result of her failures as a leader, her weakness as a warrior, her faithlessness as a follower.

This was her creation, an ugly animal brought down from his grace.

She laughed.

She covered her face with her hands, dragging her fingers across her face. She was defiling her God’s creation. She was making him flawed, just like her, like the others. She felt her body tightening, heating up more, her face flushed with emotion as she breathed heavily between her laughs. There was ecstasy in seeing her creation, her anger being moulded into such a being.

But it still wasn’t enough. Death, something she was all too familiar with… He hadn’t felt the sensation of that yet.

She reached for his throat as she removed the last bits of rags that covered any of his decency. He wasn’t some high-and-mighty prince. He was half-Forester, the same as her. His white hair, sullied with soil, was even dirtier than hers. As he began to choke, he looked far uglier than her.

She felt a rush of emotion rising up her entire body. The more he suffered, the more she felt delighted. It was liberation, freedom and power all at once. An extreme spike of pleasure burst out of her mouth, her anger all released at once as she looked at her depraved prisoner, blood flowing on his body.

She emptied her anger. She emptied her guilt. She emptied her joy. She emptied everything she had onto him so that he could be chained and she could be free.

He was crying.

As her cries of ecstasy began to calm down, he was releasing his own emotions back at her. This wasn’t guilt or grief, but the humiliated sobs of a broken identity. He sobbed and whimpered like a child, his body laying defeated without any strength left to resist.

She unconsciously released her grip. With her emotions all dumped away, she finally realised what she had done.

Her rationality had returned to haunt her.

She shook and trembled in horror, backing away from her victim. She felt the blood between her legs, a despicable sign of her own corruption. He was the only half-Forester she knew other than her siblings… and she had defiled him.

‘My God… What have I done?’