One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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Two are the one, because the one is two. And only with two shall the one destiny be fulfilled.
Prophecy 3754 by Aricese
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Neck sagging below its shoulders, tongue sloshing out of its mouth with a frothing lather, Sheala's gelding punctuated its final step off the ancient and winding road leading up the northern face with a decisively hard, final clop of hooves.
Despite having ridden up the mountain, and her mount having endured the brunt of the exertion to arrive at the destination, the former thief also maintained a slumped posture that outwardly portrayed both mental and physical exhaustion from the climb. She was not the only one. Everyone showed noticeable signs of fatigue, as though they'd run into an imaginary wall.
Even Korg, arguably the most superb physical specimen among them, appeared ready to fall over and was to the point of creeping himself along on knees that found it hard to not bend more deeply than normal. The blade of the otaur's battle axe clawed at the stone of the road while being dragged to the summit.
The instant they arrived it was as though a weight had been taken off them. Yet, once that relief had been experienced for a brief moment, the expansive reach of the plateaued zenith came into full view. And what greeted Sheala, and the others, was the sprawling, windswept remains of an ancient battlefield. Corpses of soldiers, some not much more than dust and bones while others showed signs of mummification and better preservation, along with ancient weapons and armor baring the decay of ages a heavy patina of rust, lay strewn in heaps across the sheered off peak of the mountain.
What was little more than an unburied mass grave towered above the surrounding landscape.
Intermixed among the artifacts of a battle fought long ago were both the symbols of warriors of Hitithe and Imperial crests. The eagle in flight over the inverted triangle donned the armor, weapons and tattered banners of the defenders who had given their lives upon this ground. While the latter belonged to their assailants.
"In the end, death makes all equal in their fates." Sayra offered her somber and profound observation of the scene laid out before them as she noted the presence of distinctively elven remains also laying among the dead. "Whether human or elven—enemy or friend."
