Moon Fall: Kingdom Come

Prologue

The doors to the main hall flew open, the sound echoing throghout the carved marble halls. The statues of the ancestors seemed to follow the lone man that quickly walked down the massive hall, his footsteps reverberating loudly. The castle was emptyas per the queen's orders. As he neared the large carven wood doorstothe throne room, an explosioned shifted the ground slightly. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow, and normally he would avoid wiping his sweat on the crimson robes he wore, but today he figured it wouldn't matter and proceeded to do so.

He burst into the throne room and hurried to the queen, who was surrounded by advisors and military personnel. The war was not going well for the Elves, and she knew it. She looked up and spotted the man as he walked over, and ushered everyone out of the room. The man stopped and knelt, bowing deeply.

"My queen," he said as he hung his head low. He rose and cleared his throatas the queen watched him closely. "It has been done. The child is gone, our mages have done exactly as you wished." The queen sighed deeply.

"A bittersweet moment, indeed. And what of the Astraii?" she asked. The man scratched his head.

"They ae ready for your command. But, once more, I must protest, your highness. We can drive the Orcs back, we just need more time to gather resources and troops." But the queen shook her head slowly.

"My dear Firnahirr, you have been by my side since the beginning. You know why we must do this," she said sadly.

"Your highness-" he started but the queen interjected.

"Use my real name. The time for court pleasantries is long past." The man shifted uncomfortably.

"Aenrethae, you can not truly belief the death of an entire civilization is the answer to this, this, madness! You send your only heir into the wilds of time, for Merithiel's sake!"

"Do not dare to speak that name in my castle, Firnahirr!" the queen spat angrily.  The man threw his hands up.

"My apologies, your highness. But you must know there is another way, there has to be!" he pleaded.

"The Orcs are not the only ones at our doorstep. The Dark Elves have already made their way into the Sacred Forest, I feel their tainted magic corrupting our very livelihood. Soon we will be without magic." The queen shut her eyes and sighed again. "The plague that ravages our lands grows stronger, and no manner of medicine or magic can stem the tide. We have no allies with the Humans of the North or the Dwarves of the West, and the Giants hide in their mountains like cowards while the world burns around them. What, then, do you think I should do? Let my people die from disease, or tortured at the hands of green-skins and outcasts? Let my entire kingdom fall?" She massaged her wrist softly, the royal tatoo that lay on it becoming increasingly agitated. It was a crescent moon surrounded by stars with the Elvish symbol for power inscribe in the middle. Every member of royal blood carried a similar tatoo, and it had been this way for as long as anyone could remember.

"I can not say, for I do not know," Firnahirr said sullenly. He knew it had to be done. "The destruction of our civilization will come one way or another, that I know, and matter how many ancient texts I read or scrying orbs I use, nothing else will happen. But tell me, my queen, my childhood friend Aenrethae, that you know what this will do to us as a people."

The queen sat quiet for a moment or two before answering. "We will wait for the gates to be breached, and once the armiers of cretins flood through we will activate the Tower. Make sure the Astraii are fully prepared, it will be an incredible strain on them. None must falter, lest the plan fails." She motioned for Firnahirr to leave, and he stood and stared at her for a minute before turning on his heel and rushing out the door, leaving her all alone.

"The stars have aligned, my sweet Lierra aen Aenrathae. The end is here for us," she said quietly to herself as she ran her fingers over the amulet that hang from her neck. "But it is the start of your life. I only regret it could not be with me, that I may guide you into being the beauty you are destined to be." Her reflective moment was cut short as an Elven guard ran into the room.

"They've breached the walls, my queen! We can not hold them back any longer!" he screamed and collapsed, an arrow piercing his back. The queen stood slowly and walked to the large window behind the throne. She held up her palms and whispered an ancient spell under her breath, a large glowing ball of light forming before her hands. She launched it into the night sky, illuminating the sky and everything below it, signalling the Astraii. She turned towards the door as a single Orc walked into view.

"So, you have come," she said to the large Orc clothed in a leather and furs, a heavy sword across his back.

"I know what you have planned, Aenrathae," he said in a gruff and deep voice. "You know it will not stop the prophecy." The queen took several steps towards him and stopped.

"I know very well what the prophecy speaks of, Khagra. I do not intend to stop it, only to stop you,," she said, a hint of malice in her tone. The Orc looked her over briefly.

"No matter what you do, I will find the heir, and I will slit her throat," he said slowly and clearly, making sure the queen could understand him.

"You will never  find my daughter, you filthy creature. She is gone, not even I know where she is now." She slowly lowerd her hands to her side, an etheral wind blowing through the throne room. The Orc looked around curiously and drew his large blade.

"You will not win this fight, Elf," he threated. But before he could act the queen lifted him into the air from where she stood, throwing him across the room and into the stone wall. The impact shattered the rock, and he fell to the ground.

"Perhaps not, but I can stop you from reaching the Tower, green-skin," she said as a large sphere of fire began to form in front of her. The Orc stood and grabbed his blade, charging at the queen with a roar. She threw the fireball at the rushing Orc, but with a mighty swing of the blade he dispelled it. He swung at the Elf, but with grace she deflected the blow with magic, leaping backwards. She grabbed her royal garb and tore it from her body, revealing a tight leather jerkin and leggins underneath. She held out her hand and a silver sword that hung above the throne flew into her palm. She swung it effortlessly in the air and stood defiantly against the Orc.

"So the queen has pretty tricks," the Orc said, gripping his own blade. The queen leapt at him, bringing her sword against his. The duel was vicious, the Elven queen holding her own against the veteran war Orc. Every thrust was dodged, every swing deflected. She did not use magic to aid her, for she wanted to kill the Orc on her own. But the Orc named Khagra had his own dirty tricks.

As the queen bounded towards him to strike, he reached into a small pouch on his belt and threw sparkling dust into the face of the queen. She immediately grasped her throat and fell to her knees, gasping for air. She looked up at him with swollen eyes.

"Cerixene?" she coughed. The dust her enemy had thrown was laced with a toxic mineral called Cerixene, which had immediate effects on an Elf's respiratory and circulatory systems. Khagra stoo and hovered  over the defeated Queen, sword raised. 

"You fight well, Aenrathae. I am surprised a gentle flower such as yourself harbors such a vengeful spirit," Khagra said. The Elf spat blood onto the ground at his feet.

"It's too late," she said through the blood and coughing. She quickly grabbed her sword and impaled the Orc in the side. He roared and stumbled back, removing the blade. He tripped and fell onto his rear, holding his side as crimson blood flowed through his fingers.

"You bitch," he growled through gritted teeth. The queen smiled a frightening, bloody smile and fell onto her stomach. The Orc pulled himself up an stumbled to the doorway, the sky glowing a strange hue of purple and green. He closed his eyes as the light began to shine brighter and brighter, drowning everything in its otherwordly glow. After a brief moment, nothing remained.

Where a proud empire of Elves once stood, now only rubble existed. Where the busy streets and magical enclaves thrived, nothing but air permeated the surroundings. 

But far away, on a lone hill top, someone was watching. Someone that saw what happened. Someone who would search for several lifetimes to find the heir to the Elven throne.