《The Fall of Cristallia》


 Prologue

    War knows no bounds, no borders, no morals, and no mercy. It hounds all that is good and demands the sacrifice of blood, oceans upon oceans of dark red blood. It forces the living to endure the loss of their beloved, pouring tears like the innumerable droplets of rain during a storm. Be it man, elf, dwarf, and the rest of the eleven races, no one was spared of the war that plagued the world of Infinia. No mortal was to blame, none but the embodiment of darkness himself, the enemy who the gods call Girin-thos, better known by the mortals as the Dark Lord, Nalgurin. Through his army of orcs and all beings of evil, he sought to conquer and destroy the world that The One has created. The people of Infinia trembled beneath his power and cried in fear as his forces swept the land of all life, leaving nothing but the ruins of what were once great kingdoms that basked in the glory of the sun and the benevolence of the stars. No wall was too strong, fortress too large, nor army too vast that could stop his malicious onslaught. Heroes from different races rose and fell, each death a reminder of the nearing end of the world, a reality that many saw as inevitable. Not even the gods could intervene with their own powers being forbidden by divine law, however they did what they could indirectly to try and turn the tides of the war, yet it appears it was all for naught.


    Nalgurin¡¯s army grew with every day that passes. His orcs, drows, and corrupted beings continued their merciless assault, now led by the vicious Northrel, seven knights of darkness borne from corrupting seven warriors of light that dared to fight against the Dark Lord himself in his own fortress of Khala¡¯Midad. All hope was lost, everyone fled from one kingdom to the next, seeking shelter and a warm hearth to rest from the tyranny that engulfed the world which seeks to snuff the life from their bodies.


    The One, Ynnedraig was forced to act, being driven into a corner with his greatest creation, the world of Infinia on the verge of succumbing to Nalgurin¡¯s will. Unbeknownst to the Dark Lord however, Ynnedraig still has one last miracle to impart in aid of the people of Infinia in this dreadful war. As nightfall sets in, streaks of light rained down from the heavens on many from the race of humans, gifting them with a strong bond with the Nogardians, the final children of The One, a new race born with the ability to harness the magic of Infinia and use them in their purest elemental form. That night was the birth of the Etheran, the empowered humans.


    In the battles that followed, the existence of the Etheran slowly became known to Nalgurin as they joined different skirmishes and retaliations across Infinia against his forces. The Northrel who dominated the battlefield were set aback at the strength of the etheran, who despite still being weaker than them, were able to last longer and even inflict damage upon them to a good extent compared to their unpowered allies. While there existed some mages in the world from other races, the etheran¡¯s affinity with magic are on a different scale, able to cast spells much faster, able to manipulate their elements in a more versatile way and have a much higher tolerance to magic allowing them to use its strength in unparalleled lengths. The other races marvelled at the strength of their new allies, but as powerful as they are, they are still mortal themselves, still trapped in the frailties of their physicality. Simply put, their physiology was merely augmented by fusing with the Nogardians allowing magic which they now call as ¡°Etheren¡± to circulate through their bodies like the blood in their veins.


    The Nogardians spoke one singular mission to their human hosts: ¡°Unite the races, unite against the one true enemy, unite under The One, Ynnedraig.¡± Thus, with this divine message resonating within their minds, the etheran sought to accomplish this task spreading the news of unification as they battled alongside armies, kings, queens, and heroes of each race. The message, imbued with the will of The One sparked a flame in the hearts of many, and so strong were these words that even their foes hearkened to these calls. It was not long until the drows, or the dark elves, the race created by Nalgurin¡¯s perversion of the elves heard this message and began to rebel against the tyrant who had robbed them of the light. Cursed they may still be by the darkness of the Dark Lord, yet their hearts longed for freedom from his vengeful command, and thus many of their race joined the uniting armies of the Infinian races.


    With the drows¡¯ arrival, there now stood thirteen races against Nalgurin, thirteen races that have unified in an attempt to push back the Northrel Legions and take the fight to Khala¡¯Midad. Setting aside their differences, their quarrels, and feuds, all major kingdoms from all thirteen races formed the Unity of the Thirteen. Each race nominated one of their own to represent them in this grand council amongst their numerous kings, queens, warriors, and noblemen in their ranks. Sharing knowledge, battle strategies, fighting styles, technology, the usage of magic, and everything at their disposal, the united front of men, elves, dwarves, etheran, drows, giants, druids, sirens, ents, fae, gurens, baeren, and olkyre was a force Nalgurin could not ignore.


    Looking at the fruits of The One¡¯s message through the etheran, the Parenus, gods that reside with Ynnedraig in the godly realm of Ynnedria began to share their own powers with the mortals of Infinia, some going as far as shredding their divine power to the amount in which Infinia can permit them entry into its lands to aid the cause with their own strength. Truly the scales have shifted in favour of Infinia as each battle brings the Unity closer and closer to the Northlands where Khala¡¯Midad stood, in the frozen lands riddled with the cold touch of death.


    In the face of possible defeat, Nalgurin brought into existence the Relic Instruments to which he made seven for his seven Northrel Knights, amplifying their power, but also bringing them to the point of immortality; immensely powerful and undying generals that will stop at nothing to bring their Dark Lord¡¯s vision of Infinia to fruition. Nalgurin was still not done, he wanted to perfect his greatest weapons, and thus he imparted fragments of his own soul within his Northrel knights. With partial control of darkness, the Northrel were now on par with the strength of the descended Parenus.


    As the battles neared Khala¡¯Midad, the ominous aura of death slowly ensued over the armies of the Unity, the Northrel were about to be unleashed and no one knew the scale of their new power, yet the weight of their immense aura struck fear into the hearts of many. Strong as this alliance between all Infinian races may be, the siege of the Northlands will not be swift, rather it will take their army tooth and nail to crawl their way to Nalgurin¡¯s fortress. Freeing villages, towns, and many other settlements through their journey, the Unity gained more numbers as many seek to rid Infinia of this evil.


    In retaliation, the seven Northrel descend unto the battlefield against Nalgurin¡¯s enemies armed with their newfound weapons wreaking havoc and destruction on a scale never before seen by anyone in Infinia. The dead rose before them in droves, their own allies suddenly turning on each other, plagues infesting their brethren, the Unity¡¯s march was halted in the face of the Northrel¡¯s unleashed power. The descended Pareni, underestimating these generals of darkness challenged them only to fall and wither in the Northrel¡¯s might. Killing legions of soldiers was a feat far great enough for the Northrel, but slaying gods in the mortal realm is a feat that brings a stroke of terror on people, solidifying the fear of fighting one of these seven knights of darkness.


    Feeling a strong shift in power, The One realized the Northrel¡¯s acquisition of their Relic Instruments will overpower the Unity regardless of their large numbers. However, there was another crucial factor that The One has realized, and that was Infinia¡¯s need to have a balance between light and darkness. With Nalgurin representing Infinia¡¯s darkness, eliminating him would have terrible consequences upon the nature of the world, ultimately dooming Infinia regardless of his defeat. There was no way to seal the Dark Lord all while maintaining this balance upon Infinia, leaving Ynnedraig with one possible alternative left which was to put substitutes in his and Nalgurin¡¯s place to balance the scales of light and darkness once again. Ynnedraig would need the help of the strongest Pareni to rebuild the structure of Infinia¡¯s nature to which Acronus the Parenus of Time, Liora the Parenus of Nature, Tharnall the Parenus of Order, and Illandris the Parenus of Souls answered his summons.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Beginning with the representation of light and darkness, The One decided to create into existence the two most powerful Nogardians in existence, the Nogardian of Oscurita and the Nogardian of Illumina, twin Nogardians that cannot live without each other, twin Nogardians strong enough to replace the presence of Nalgurin and Ynnedraig himself so that Infinia recognizes it as the balance of light and darkness. Meanwhile, the four Pareni did their part in supporting that balance in terms of the functioning of the world for while the balance of two opposing forces serves as its source of power, there are intricate parts of the world to keep it operating much like clockwork. The four had to create representations of these worldly functions in order to fully be able to change Infinia¡¯s nature whilst maintaining the world¡¯s functionality. While Liora, Tharnall, and Illandris worked in a more practical manner, constructing hosts that are each blessed with a gemstone imbued with a worldly function, Acronus was filled with a curiosity that he could only satiate by descending upon the world of Infinia where he fulfilled The One¡¯s wishes.


    Ynnedraig¡¯s plan was now set into motion, releasing the twin Nogardians upon Infinia where they found their hosts who came to be known as Erebus and Lucielle, the etherans who were blessed to defeat Nalgurin and become the embodiments of light and darkness for Infinia¡¯s continued existence. As warriors wrought in light and a shadow that stretches over the fields of battle, they are the final bastion of Infinia¡¯s stand against the darkness, and a battle will soon unfold that will decide the future of the world. While the three Pareni waited for the time to send their children to Infinia, Acronus had already been nurturing his own for a brief period before leaving him to his own devices as he left the realm of Infinia, entrusting to him a gemstone hidden in the mountains deep within the region of Arnenya to the west.


    As both sides of the war yearned for a swift victory over the other, this war would rage on much longer, pushing the resources of the Unity to be continuously depleted. Knowing they cannot launch a straight offensive on Khala¡¯Midad, the Council of the Thirteen now under the higher command of Erebus and Lucielle have decided to hold the line and establish a foothold in the Northlands to resist the advance of their enemy as they recover their resources such as food, weaponry, more troops, and most especially their waning morale. Amidst the chaos, some of Nalgurin¡¯s forces were able to advance from different regions of the Northlands and set their sights towards wreaking havoc in the west.


    With the western kingdoms having been weakened by sending most of their soldiers and valuable logistics to the Unity¡¯s growing offensive in the east, the Dark Lord¡¯s forces made swift work in decimating the villages and towns near the north facing shores of the east. Little to no aid was given to these places given the dire situation in the Northlands that rendered these places almost defenseless if it were not for the mercenaries, warriors, and other fighters that chose to stay. All that could be done was to fortify their walls, slaughter as many orcs and all the foul creatures that were sent to destroy them. Escape was limited as no one dared venture into the east with the seas being riddled with monsters that even the sirens of Neptunimis struggled to slay. The only path was to flee southwards, to kingdoms and cities still untouched by the vile hands of the Northrel Legions in hopes of surviving for at least a few more weeks before fleeing once more.


    Facing certain annihilation, survivors and refugees journeyed to what safety they could find, with some even seeking refuge in places based on stories and bard songs, with one such mythical place being said to be situated in the middle of a perilous mountain range that separated the region of Arnenya from the rest of the west. The journey seemed almost impossible with orc scouts patrolling far and wide, intent on killing anyone from any race they come across regardless of whether they can put up a fight or die a pitiful death.


    The orcish advance continued to raze everything down in their path, burning down entire forests and demolishing buildings. The kingdom of Lorivio was the first to fall of all the three kingdoms in Arnenya with the first great horde amassing on the nearby coasts, overrunning the human kingdom, setting it ablaze and marching on once more. The elven kingdom of Morcris was just on the horizon, unprepared and lightly defended, yet they waited once again for the next great horde to land on Arnenya¡¯s shores before advancing to make swift their invasion.


    After the fall of Morcris, the kingdom of Los Valles was the last in Arnenya to fend off the growing numbers of orcs in the region until the time came when it had to face a fully-fledged army with the arrival of two more great hordes. Nalgurin¡¯s forces finally have a firm grasp on the lands of Arnenya, with one seemingly tiny and insignificant foe in their path which they shall trample upon and destroy, completing the conquest of Arnenya.


    Los Valles, a kingdom of half-elves, had been a thorn to the orcs who were desperate to slaughter refugees and ravage the villages in the region as they repeatedly tried to repel them as much as they can. By the leadership of King Trunno Lux Valla, Los Valles paved the way for refugees and survivors to escape, with his soldiers being led by his own daughter and the only princess of Los Valles. Quick and steadfast, the princess often led a group of Los Vallian cavalrymen to fight off orcish forces in defense of the nearby villages as the people evacuated, making their way towards the gates of Los Valles.


    It was not long until the heroics of the princess met much fiercer resistance against what seemed to be more experienced enemies, ultimately pushing them back slowly into the gates of the kingdom. Unlike the walls of Rivenon or the grand barracks of Kelvenfjord, Los Valles was too small of a kingdom to hold back the army that marched on their doorstep. Regardless of this massive disadvantage, King Trunno was determined to hold the line to stall the orcs while the people evacuated telling his one and only daughter to lead them away from this land. However, the princess being headstrong would not agree to such a command to which she instead decided to fight valiantly alongside her father for as long as she can.


    One last battle, a losing battle, a hopeless attempt to let a seemingly insignificant number of lives escape. The burden of the death that awaited was so great that some knights decided to flee with the rest of the people to which King Trunno did not hold any contempt nor ill-will, but his final order as their king to defend these refugees until darkness takes them.


    King Trunno donned his royal armor with his sword named ¡°Olimno¡± or ¡°Kin¡¯s Protector¡± in the common tongue and walked towards the gates with his personal guard and all that remained of the knights of Los Valles. Meanwhile his daughter commanded troops atop the stone walls of the kingdom with her own personal guard. As the king raised Olimno, the knights of Los Valles let out deafening battle cries, the final roar of Arnenya before it¡¯s fated doom.


    Countless spawns of evil gathered from the woods of Arnenya, converging and gathering outside the walls of the kingdom, filled with bloodlust and armed with their machines of war, ready to breach the walls. Showing their loyalty to the Dark Lord, they raised their banners soaked in blood and branded with his mark they call the Harak, the crooked black blade that was claimed from Infinia¡¯s first hero, the one who now leads the Northrel.


    Well before the siege of Los Valles began, amidst the banging of shields from beyond the wall, King Trunno spoke aloud to the knights of the kingdom, ¡°Hear this, fellow kin, my half-elven brothers and sisters. The end appears before you in the faces of our dreaded foes. Nalgurin comes to take our lands; he has come to claim the crown-jewel, Arnenya. The fact that you are standing by me today to fight the unwinnable battle is proof of your undying loyalty and faith in this land. Hither do we die, yet we do so to preserve the last spark that is Los Valles, for Los Valles lives on in our people, it lives on in those who will live on. Valla erwe fornostru!¡±


    To which the everyone cried out, ¡°Fornostru lon elfenye!¡±


    ¡°The jewel illuminates the land; May it illuminate forevermore.¡±


    So it begins, the bloodshed that awaits Los Valles, the Jewel of the Land.

 Chapter 1: To Bloodshed and Ruin

    Death, despair, and destruction. Inevitable was the fall of Los Valles as the screams of people replaced the peaceful banter of a once lively kingdom. The stone walls reduced to rubble, banners engulfed in flames, and houses that were once home to loving families razed to the ground in flames. Chaos broke loose as hundreds of Nalgurin¡¯s warriors scatter across the cobble streets of Los Valles with swords, spears, clubs, and axes, killing, torturing, and defiling anyone in their sights. Fathers watched hopelessly as their wives were beaten and violated in front of their eyes. Children were traumatized as the heads of their friends and family hung from spears, it¡¯s empty and lifeless eyes, gazing towards their flickering life as a blade was placed on their neck, blood slowly trickling down slowly turning into a steady stream of gushing blood as orcs give them a slow and painful death.


    No one could blame the people who chose to stay in this kingdom, it was their home, it was where they felt most safe regardless of witnessing the many who fled in droves, fearing for their lives. In a sense, they chose to die here, they chose to go down with the walls, the homes, and its castle, but how they died was left to the hands of their conquerors, their butchers.


    Half-elves have long been shunned by their full-blood elf kin and ridiculed by their full-blood human kin in days of old, thus when the rising of half-elven kingdoms like Los Valles came to be, many flocked to unite with their own kind, ruled by their own half-elven kin, without fear of being outcasted or ridiculed for their mixed blood. To the families whose bloodlines stretched far into the days of old, Los Valles was more than just a home, it was their first refuge and never again shall they be turned away, forced to leave let alone do so because of the forces of the Dark Lord. However, in events such as this, there remains no merit to honoring one¡¯s home, no merit in one¡¯s faith to this land, for they shall not die as martyrs, nor shall they fall as an honorable half-elf, nay. They shall be slaughtered like livestock, their lives sown like fields of wheat.


    The knights witnessing these horrific vicious acts were overcome with anguish, fear, anger, and desperation. Their morale crumbled as orcs and trolls run rampant spreading death and ruin. With no choice left, the Los Vallian knights slowly fell back, outnumbered, outmatched, and overwhelmed. Much of the people started fleeing, running to the other end of Los Valles where the south gate was being held onto by King Trunno¡¯s knights.


    Since the destruction of the northern wall along with its gates, the king and his daughter fought on two separate fronts with King Trunno trying desperately to hold the orcish advance until they were eventually pushed back to the southern gates where they stood their last stand. The princess and her men on the other hand, went from door to door searching for survivors amidst the raging flames and the unrelenting attacks from orcs.


    ¡°Your Highness! There¡¯s too many of them!¡± exclaimed a Los Vallian knight as he clashed swords with an orc, swiftly slaying him as he finds the killing angle after blocking its attack. Before he can utter another word, three more orcs run towards him, determined to take his life.


    ¡°My Lady, we must retreat to the southern gates, we¡¯re slowly being overwhel¡ª¡± said a knight, his pleas for a retreat cut short as another orc interferes with his ongoing fight and stabs him through the back.


    Making her way out of a burning hut was the princess in full armor and a helmet covering her face, carrying an infant in her arms and another young half-elf on her back.


    ¡°Hold the line Pellandir! There are countless more hiding in some of these houses,¡± replied the princess as she signaled two knights to accompany the children to the southern gates. ¡°We must spare the people such insufferable fates.¡±


    Rushing in to assist Pellandir was another knight, thrusting his blade into the belly of a foul orc as his comrade parried its blade. Quickly catching a glimpse of an orc making his way to a house about a block away, he shouted, ¡°Orc! Over there!¡±


    Steadfast and determined, the princess and four other knights rush towards the house that the orc entered. As they ran, arrows flew past them, with one of the knights being shot dead in his tracks in his leg, and soon his shoulder and chest once he hit the ground. In response, the other three raised their shields as they covered the princess. Deadly were the orcish arrows, tipped with poison from the Northlands, incurable and fast to spread, it kills within an hour of hitting its target.


    ¡°Silnan, with me, we shall make quick work of this foul orc together and find any survivors,¡± said the princess to the knight on her left, and looking at the other two knights gave them a command. ¡°Their archers will be repositioning, use this chance to assist Pellandir and Oruis. This street will soon be overrun, gather the others and head for the next.¡±


    As the two knights departed to assist their kin in the fight, the princess and Silnan quietly make their way into the house, checking every room for both the orc intruder and any survivors. The princess drew her sword as she cautiously approached one of the bedrooms of the house, steadily breathing, senses sharpening as she suddenly notices the smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the house. Knocking down the door that stood her way, she enters with her blade at the ready only to find an old mother holding her child close, cowering in a corner, fearing for their lives.


    ¡°Silnan, make haste, to me!¡± the princess called out, a warm smile breaking the tense and heated expression on her face as she looks at the two survivors, ¡°It¡¯s okay young one, I will keep you and your mother safe, I swear it on The One¡¯s true name.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming My Lady,¡± Silnan replied as she made her way to the room from the hallway.


    As Silnan crossed through the kitchen, a tall, muscular figure carrying a flail and a torch rammed her on her side, crashing her into a wall before falling on the floor. Before she can stand up and recover from the impact, her assailant instantly struck her back with its spiked flail. While it was enough to immobilize Silnan, her opponent did not hesitate to strike her again, and again, and again, until it accidentally struck her head, blood splattering everywhere as this merciless monster retracted the flail.


    ¡°SILNAN!¡± the princess bellowed, her expression instantly turning into deep anger, seeing the blood drip down the flail. Towering at nearly seven feet tall, was a muscular red orc, a high orc, bred to kill and slaughter its opponents. With Silnan gruesomely killed, the high orc turns its gaze towards the mother and child behind the princess letting out a devilish smile along with a deep growling noise.


    ¡°You shall not lay hands on them. Not while I stand here before you, monster,¡± said the princess valiantly, shrugging off as much pent-up rage as she can for she cannot afford to be blinded by such emotions. Too much has she seen in this siege, believing it to be more vile and despicable than what she has seen on the battlefield for a time already came when orcs have lain siege of the west.


    Firmly grasping her sword, the princess charged at the high orc with no fear nor hesitation for what may come. The orc roared in response awaiting the princess to be in range of his flail, eager to demolish her like the dead half-elf, Silnan, whose blood soaked the floor.


    The orc roared loudly as it swung its flail with force into the incoming princess who slid under the spiked ball, making it crash against the wall. While the orc tried to retrieve the spiked ball which was now stuck on the wooden wall, the princess got on her feet slashing at its right hand holding the flail, severing it. In pain, the orc shrieked briefly as it lost its hand, instinctively tackling the princess with its large left shoulder.


    The princess slowly got up to her feet, grabbing her sword once again, thrusting at the now rage-fueled orc that ran towards her. Despite its large body, it evaded the princess¡¯ blade and waved its arm with the severed hand in a whiplike manner, splashing the princess¡¯ visor with so much blood that it went into her eyes denying her any vision of her opponent. Without pause, the orc gave a skull-shattering headbutt, denting the helmet the princess wore and sending her back across the hallway.


    Momentarily stunned, the princess took off her helmet afterwards, unveiling her bloodied face quickly wiping off the blood covering her sights, revealing her blue eyes with a wrathful stare as she gazed upon the orc who now smiled deviously, feeling overly confident about the battle.


    Grabbing her sword once more, the princess chanted under her breath, mysterious runes now appearing on her blade, her body swirling with etheran. This was a sacred spell passed down from many royal bloodlines of humans and elves, used to turn the tides of battle for it can encompass even an entire legion of soldiers, empowering them, enhancing their physical prowess and heightening their senses, filling one¡¯s spirit with an unquenchable flame of battle, this was the power of the Blade Blessing.


    Paying no attention to what the princess had done, the orc rushed to attack her, but this time, every single attempt at striking her failed as the princess evaded every attack thrown at her countering with a punch to the stomach as the orc¡¯s backhand missed. However, the princess couldn¡¯t keep up the power of the Blade Blessing far longer, thus she decided to end the battle after seeing an opening, thrusting her blade into the orc¡¯s chest to which it cried out in pain.


    As the power of the sacred spell left the princess¡¯ body, the orc with its last few breaths gave a crushing embrace to the princess and ran straight towards the room where the two survivors shivered in fear, not knowing the fate that lies ahead of this battle. With this final attempt at finishing off the princess, the orc looked into her face as she coughed up blood from the impact. Her unchanging look of sheer will and determination did not falter as she twisted the blade still impaled on the high orc¡¯s chest, finally slaying her opponent, its body slowly dropping down on the floor with a thud.


    As the princess pulled her sword from the orc¡¯s body, tears poured down the mother¡¯s eyes as she looked at the princess, her savior. Meanwhile her child broke free from her arms, running towards the princess, giving her a hug which filled the princess with happiness she never felt from the moment the siege of the kingdom began. The half-elven child¡¯s little embrace was a stark contrast from the orc¡¯s grip, it was comforting and relieving.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Thank you, Princess Ariabelle, my mother and I will never forget this day,¡± said the half-elven child, tears also in her eyes, knowing that they have narrowly escaped their demise.


    ¡°Come now young one, I shall accompany you and your mother to the southern gate so that you can escape this carnage,¡± replied Ariabelle, ¡°The street on your front door would be overrun by now, is there another way out of your residence?¡±


    ¡°This way My Lady,¡± ushered the child¡¯s mother, leading the princess and her child towards another exit by the kitchen. As they exit the room, the torch from the orc that Princess Ariabelle has slain rolled over to a piece of cloth, igniting it, slowly spreading the fire throughout the house.


    Passing through the kitchen, the three of them were greeted by the lifeless body of Silnan on the ground surrounded by a pool of blood from the dead orc¡¯s attack. The mother dared not look, shielding her young one¡¯s eyes with her hand as she led him. Ariabelle, passing by, averted her eyes from such sight, her heart beating heavily with sadness and pain. Valla nirno firem elfenye; may the Jewel guide your soul forevermore.


    Once they made it outside, Ariabelle took the lead despite being injured, for her duty is still to her people, to lead these two and secure their escape. The princess hurriedly led the survivors away, peeking at the cobble street that was now overrun with orcs only to see two dead knights on the ground, recognizing one of them as Oruis. Cursing silently, she continued to guide the survivors toward the south gates avoiding large groups of orcs that scoured abandoned homes, burning them down after a bountiful plunder of what treasures they find within be it food, a couple of gold coins, or weapons.


    Princess Ariabelle knew there were more people hiding, with every house they passed feeding her soul with this feeling of helplessness. It was not long before they felt the ground shaking beneath their feet, but while it did not deter the three¡¯s journey to the southern gates, the princess knew what was coming.


    Trolls were one of the formidable troops that Nalgurin commanded, a race of giant people taller than high orcs at about twelve feet and sometimes possessing only a singular eye. It was undeniable that as time passed, more powerful foes landed on the shores of Arnenya with the trolls¡¯ sudden appearance in the siege of Morcris. This brought a horrid thought to Ariabelle¡¯s mind, asking herself, pondering if the conquest of Arnenya would bring about the appearance of one of the Northrel knights. Not fearing them would be one¡¯s undoing, with tales of their power and their Relic Instruments reaching far and wide across Infinia.


    ¡°Over here!¡± beckoned Ariabelle as they turned left in an intersecting pathway.


    Upon turning, a flurry of arrows rained down on them, fired from the rooftops of houses and other buildings. Ariabelle quickly pulled the half-elf child behind her as she slashed with unmatched precision, cutting in half three arrows in succession. While Ariabelle managed to save the child, the same could not be said about her mother, an arrow piercing through her shoulder.


    ¡°J-Jeyan¡­¡± muttered the child¡¯s mother. The wound on her shoulder slowly darkened as the poison made its way through her body.


    Just when Ariabelle knelt down to try and help the mother, two trolls appeared before them with one coming from the intersection they just turned from and the other from destroying a nearby house in that same path. A large group of orcs were also fast approaching, their archers in the rooftop quickly repositioning.


    Among the group that was approaching them was an orc armed in a more well-fashioned armor compared to his allies. Taking out his bow and an arrow from his quiver, he agilely positioned himself aiming for one of the three.


    ¡°Compassion, the weakness of your race. Either the knight dies saving the child, or the mother dies saving both,¡± said the orc cunningly in orcish speech as he released the arrow, ¡°So, which will it be?¡±


    The arrow, imbued with dark magic, flew incredibly fast towards the half-elf child. Ariabelle knew what she had to do so that the child could escape, knowing that the mother had the chance to live if cured by any healer as they were near the southern gates. It was too quick, the arrow will eventually strike the child if she does not act, as precise as she can slice an incoming arrow in half, this arrow was like a shooting star of deadly proportions.


    In the blink of an eye, Jeyan¡¯s mother threw her already poisoned body in the arrow¡¯s way, knowing all too well that her fate was already sealed the moment the first arrow struck her. She fell down, instantly lifeless as the arrow¡¯s magic melted away her innards like acid. No final words, no goodbye, not even a kiss on Jeyan¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°ALWE!¡±


    A voice from a distance shouted, and all of a sudden, a wave of arrows rained down on the orcs from the direction of the southern gate. One by one the incoming orcs that charged fell as arrows bombarded them, piercing through their poorly made armor. The number of arrows were somehow able to topple both of the trolls, their bodies collapsing on the buildings that stood beside them. However, as Ariabelle looked towards her dying foes, the orc that targeted them was surviving the onslaught of arrows as he used one of his fellow orcs as a shield, killing his kin in the process.


    ¡°Your Highness!¡± called a voice.


    Riding towards them with a group of mounted knights was Pellandir. Along with Pellandir¡¯s group were three knights wearing the crest of the King¡¯s Guard upon their armor.


    ¡°I have regrouped with more of our forces in the nearby districts which are now overrun with orcs, but we have succeeded in rescuing many civilians who have reached the southern gates by now,¡± reported Pellandir. ¡°I am glad to see that you are¡ª"


    ¡°My apologies Your Highness,¡± said Pellandir briefly as his expression changed after realizing what has transgressed. Ariabelle knelt down beside Jeyan¡¯s mother, with Jeyan frozen in place, unable to talk nor shed a tear, not knowing how to process the events that have unfolded before him. Jeyan had no one to shield his eyes at the dreadful sight on the ground.


    The world around her grew distant, blurred into a haze as Ariabelle knelt. The pain of so much loss starts to grip her heart, like a cunning serpent coiling its prey. For a fleeting moment, everything was silent, the battles, the clashing of steel, the burning of fires, the cries of suffering, none penetrated the stillness of Ariabelle¡¯s thoughts. But once more, in one steady breath, she steeled her resolve, shattering the cage of despair and stepping back into the chaos around her.


    Ariabelle closed Jeyan¡¯s mother¡¯s eyes with her fingers, but before she could say any prayers the trolls that came crashing down on the houses nearby finally got on their knees roaring ferociously as they grabbed their massive clubs. Not only were the two trolls alone, but the orc who survived the rain of arrows sounded a horn, calling for reinforcements that did not take long to arrive.


    ¡°We must depart young one,¡± said Ariabelle to Jeyan in a soft tone, loneliness etched in her face, taking her mother¡¯s ring and putting it onto Jeyan¡¯s palm, ¡°Her spirit lives on in you, and I must ensure your escape of this defiled land.¡±


    ¡°Y-your Highness, you might not want to hear this, but Oruis is<sub>¡ª¡±</sub>


    ¡°It is okay Pellandir, I have prayed that the Jewel guides him and Silnan, and all our brothers and sisters who have laid down to rest in this battle,¡± said the princess, who grew anxious of all the death that she has seen. Knights they may be, or another resident of Los Valles, while she may not have known everyone deeply, Ariabelle has always had a passionate love towards her people, and now these very people¡¯s lifeless bodies lay everywhere in the wasteland that was once Los Valles, their blood paving the roads, their screams echoing in the distance.


    ¡°I am sorry to interrupt My Lady, but King Trunno requests your presence at the defense of the southern gates,¡± said the knight with the crest of the King¡¯s Guard.


    ¡°How is the situation over there?¡± Ariabelle asked as she held the silent Jeyan¡¯s hand.


    ¡°We¡¯ve managed to hold on for quite a while My Lady, but the ever increasing amounts of orcs are slowly overwhelming us,¡± replied the knight, looking over the princess¡¯ shoulder seeing that enemies are now charging at them.


    ¡°More of them are coming, Your Highness,¡± said Pellandir as he draws his blade while on horseback. ¡°We can enter some houses and find more survivors while some of us hold out.¡±


    Ariabelle¡¯s thoughts were in disarray after what just happened to Jeyan¡¯s mother. As a child her father, the king always told her that a leader¡¯s duty is to her people, remembering the very words King Trunno told her:


    ¡°One is not born into nobility as a privilege to rule over others, but a privilege to serve their people. You and I are fortunate to even have the right to protect each and every one in Los Valles. It gives purpose, meaning¡ªto fight against the dark forces that oppose peace. For what purpose do battles have? What meaning does the battle between light and darkness hold, if not for the people who stand on each side?¡±


    ¡°My Lady, we cannot afford more of our men to die here, the southern gates need us to secure the citizens¡¯ escape. We must retreat,¡± ushered the knight of the King¡¯s Guard.


    Yet her father¡¯s voice still lingered.


    ¡°But when the time comes Aryavelya, you must overcome the sacrifices that come with this privilege. I pray to The One, you need not make the choices many a king and queen have done for the greater good. Do not falter when there¡¯s still more to be done alive.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, what is your command?¡± asked Pellandir, unsheathing his sword, getting ready for battle once again.


    Ariabelle glanced down at Jeyan, still and silent, betraying any hint of fear at what was about to come their way. She cannot stand by as more of Los Valles dies at the hands of such monsters, but she also cannot falter, for there is still more at stake, there is more to the path that lie ahead of her than the death of a martyr. At that moment she knew what she needed to do, she could not forfeit their survival for a slight chance of maybe, just maybe finding another survivor.


    ¡°We retreat to the southern gates!¡± Ariabelle commanded, with no hesitation and no regret. This was the right call. This was what she needed to do, for the southern gates is the last escape of anyone trying to flee from death.


    ¡°As you wish My Lady. Quifan al tureno! To the southern gates!¡± ordered the knight of the King¡¯s Guard. Pellandir giving a nod, sheathed his sword and swiftly mounted his horse.


    The knight gave Ariabelle the reins of a saddled horse they brought along to which she carried Jeyan onto. Ariabelle mounted the horse as well, seating herself behind Jeyan whose emotionless gaze filled Ariabelle¡¯s heart with sorrow yet still an unwavering passion to fight for Jeyan and everyone else in the kingdom. Pellandir and the rest of his troops followed suit and rode with the knights of the King¡¯s Guard, escaping from the oncoming horde of orcs.


    Taking their positions once more, the orcish archers aim hastily with their bows, desperate to take down the riders escaping from their sights.


    ¡°Steel incoming!¡± warned Pellandir as the shield on his back was struck by an arrow. ¡°Make haste everyone, make haste. Hiyah!¡±


    ¡°Our spotters were fortunate to have found you, although it appears our efforts did not quite fully make it in time,¡± said the knight as they rode across the ruined streets of Los Valles towards the southern gates.


    ¡°Nevertheless, we are still grateful for the spotters that led our arrows find their marks,¡± replied Ariabelle as her gaze flickered at Jeyan, her expression clouded with worry before forcing herself to look forwards again into the distance.


    While her thoughts whispered aloud in a sea of noise filled with the horrors of bloodshed and ruin plaguing Los Valles, her resolve remained unshaken.


    Her silence speaks loudly, echoing unfathomable depths. I cannot possibly imagine the burden she carries within her heart and her soul, let alone the burden that her departed mother carries, having to watch from beyond as her daughter suffers. May The One strengthen her resolve to fight and live on and may He empower and manifest my will to keep this child alive. Your sacrifice, and the sacrifice of all who have fallen will not be in vain. I shall not falter¡ªfor there is much more ahead of me.