After partly avenging her mother's death, Evette Star, the illegitimate daughter of an elven king, sets off on a warpath to find the adversary of her people.
The human King in the West, Dracul Dregoth, has locked himself away in a stone tower for r...
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In the night, Evette found it hard to sleep. When she finally closed her tired eyes, she dreamt a worrisome, dark dream. Her body started to sweat and she tossed and turned on her bed, clutching the sheets with strength.
The dream started out easy. It was an image Evette's subconscious could conjure up with ease, like she had been in the very same spot once before. She could feel the cool air slip under her coat and seep through her dress. The air touched her skin and she shivered gently. It felt so real.
The frost on the wind could be felt as Evette pushed her way through the lifeless bodies on the ground. She didn't cry as she laid eyes on the elven warriors who had fallen from the war.
The war. Evette was walking in the aftermath. She saw the crimson stains and she smelled the musky scent of insufferable pain. Watching and walking through cold fire; seeing the bodies through young adult eyes made it all too real, even when it wasn't any longer.
Up ahead, Evette spotted a fallen warrior who laid alone on the ground, away from the thousands of others. The fabric of his long, fabric cape that clung to his silver armor blew in the wind as Eve approached him. It was her half brother.
Evette bent down and pulled Argyle so his back was flush with the ground. He had fallen sideways, and the frozen arrow in his heart broke in half as Evette pushed him on his back. The bridle wood of the arrow had broken from the impact. The metal tip of the arrow remained in his stiff heart that no longer beat.
This wasn't how it went. It didn't end like this. Even in her slumber, Evette knew what she was dreaming wasn't real and, as she ran her hand over Argyle's cheek in her dream, she realized just how real the dream felt.
Dark auburn locks of hair tangled with blood, stuck to areas on Argyle's pale face. He looked peaceful in his state of mirrored death.
Evette felt a few tears slip out of her eyes, and they fell onto her brother's dented armor. She sniffled quietly as she laid his head in her lap, her eyes never leaving his closed eyelids.
"An honorable death," Evette whispered under her breath. "It was what you always wanted." She closed her eyes momentarily before her gaze returned to her fallen Argyle.
Evette placed her hand over her brother's chest and felt the cold of his metal armor. There was no warmth radiating from the metal, only a sickening cold. A moment passed in silence, and only the whistling of wind through trees could be heard.
"I'm sorry." Evette said and gritted her teeth as she tried to stop the waterworks. There was no use in trying.
Evette blinked, and stared blankly at her brother. He opened his eyes, the bright blue orbs cold and frosty. His eyes glowed as he glanced up at his sister. He said nothing as he laid still.
