A Court of Fire and Shadows -ON BREAK!!!-

Elain

We moved out again late in the afternoon. Hybern was at the northern edge of the mighty forest stretching along the Summer Court's eastern border. Azriel had scouted the land ahead of time for Cassian. It was late enough that Hybern seemed to me starting to settle down for the night.

Cassian had let the army rest all day, anticipating that at the end of a long day of marching, Hybern's forces would be exhausted. If they weren't valg, that is.

Another rule of war, knowing when to pick your battles is equally as important as where you fought them.

As we landed, Dorian ripped off the glamour surrounding us. Rhys had wanted word to get out. Wanted word to spread to Hybern's forces who was meeting them at every turn, slaughtering them.

But they already knew.

I walked towards the edge of the camp, standing beside Nesta while we watched the battle on the valley floor below.

Neither of us flinched at the clash and din of the battle, just kept watching, I was intently watching Azriel, who was going to make me drop dead from worry. Nesta staring at one black-armored figure, leading the lines, his occasional order to push or to hold that flank barking across the battle.

Because this battle, Hybern had been ready. The appearance of a tired army getting ready to rest for the night was a ruse, as ours had been.

Keir's soldiers started dying first, their front lines buckling. Mor was watching stone-faced, I had no doubt she was half hoping her father joined the dead that was now piling up. Even as he managed to rally the Darkbringers, to reassemble the front line, only after Cassian had roared at him to fix it. And on the other side of the field-

Rhys and Tarquin were drained enough that they were actually fighting sword to sword. Yet again, there was no sign of Jurian or Tamlin.

Mor was hopping from one foot to another, glancing up at Feyre every now and then. The bloodshed, the brutality, it sang to some part of her, as it did to me. Being up here, it was not where either of us wished to be. This running after armies, scrambling to stay ahead, it would now provide a solution. Not for long.

The storm started, and the battle turned into outright muddy slaughter. Siphons flared, soldiers died. Hybern wielded its own magic upon our forces, arrows tipped in faebane finally making an appearance, along with clouds of it, that mercifully didn't last long in the rain. And did not impact us with Nuan's antidote in our systems, we had managed to convince the Erileans to take the antidote too, even if they said it wouldn't affect them, just like iron wouldn't affect us. Only those arrows, which were skillfully avoided with shields or outright destruction to their shafts, leaving the stone to fall harmlessly from the sky.

Still they continued to fight, continued to kill, the Erileans attacking the right flank, closest to us, shredding them from the side. Brutal. Precise. They were doing a dance, a brutal, precise dance of war. Azriel, Cassian and Rhys kept fighting from their side of the battlefield. Tarquin and Varian held their own, spreading out their soldiers to aid Keir's once-again foundering line.

But it was too late. 

From the distance, through the rain, we could see perfectly as the dark line of Keir's soldiers caved to an onslaught of Hybern cavalry.

I stepped away from Mor and Feyre and Nesta, just out of earshot.

"Shit," I breathed, pacing, "Shit."

Like a burst dam, Hybern's soldiers poured through, cleaving Keir's force in half. Cassian's bellowing was audible even from this hilltop we were on. Then he was soaring, dodging arrows and spears, his Siphons so dim they barely guarded him against it. I could've sworn that Rhys had roared some order to him, that Cassian disregarded as he landed in the middle of the enemy forces sundering out lines, and he unleashed himself.