Dawn awoke as the pinks and reds, splintered across the sky, a yellow circle climbing over the neighbouring hills. The silence of the field lingered as she began to walk, the dried pasture crumbling under her shielded feet. As the sun grew the harrowing sight of bodies lying lifeless, limb and covered in a coat of red surrounded the field. Those standing left rattled, their blue feathers strung in their combs, their echoing steps over broken bones. Evelynn stood, her helmet at her hip, gazing into the rising sun, the stench of blood and rotting corpses drifted over the fleet. As the sun kissed the hills her army awoke.
Her braids swayed at her shoulders, drifting from side to side whistling to the brisk breeze. Grazing her fingers over the metal, the cold pinch on the tips of her fingers grew stronger in her body as she turned to face the men behind her. Strung like empty carcasses upwards they held their stances. Staring off into the orange sky their souls grinding against the bones on which they stood. Their bodies vessels; linking arms with death herself protruded in an empty shell of a man.
Evelynn lifting her helmet from her hip and hovering it above her head spoke,
"We move South"
"South?" An indistinguishable voice croaked. "Respectfully your Highness are you jesting" it continued.
Evelynn eyes sought out the face who was speaking. She met a pair of weary hazel eyes. His dark complexion bounced the rays of morning sun off his face. Glancing away he stalked forward. His black hair tangled in the mesh of the helmet. The blue feather drifting between his fingers.
"Are you jesting your Highness?" He repeated. Evelynn clenched her fingers tightly on the helmet and placed it on. Closing the visor.
Pressing her gloved fingers into her palm as she retracted her sword from her hip.
Those eyes, in which she was drawn too had an uncanny resemblance to his. Azrael had striking green eyes but the man whom she jests to had a soft pale green wrapped in a thin circle of blue. A similar tinge to hers.
"No," Evelynn responded changing the weight of the blade between her heavy hands. "I wish I was," she paused looking briefly back to the hills. "Gather the troops,"
~
Marcus could recall the moments between the bloodshed of the sudden cold feeling that washed over him as Azrael's green water glistened in his eyes. The moment of hopelessness and despair. Marcus could feel the slow movements in his lips pulling at either side of his face in a thin line. His brown eyes were shaky, incoherently trying to look at his friend's face. The lingering burning in the back of his throat as he knew what she was. What she always was. His chest fell in a deep exhale and he began to shake his head. Unhesitant as he put his arms out. Azrael lifted his chin to look Marcus in the eye. Within that small glance at him, Marcus' gut ached. But his heart tinged as Azrael threw himself into his arms. His tight grasp on his friend grew tighter on him as Marcus whispered.
"I know,"
~
The rolling green plains had turned into patchwork dirt covered in barbed wire and orange smoke. The blood seeping into the soil, if there was any plant to absorb it at all. Evelynn climbed the patchwork green hill, the metal grunting and groaning for miles below. Her soldiers continued to climb up the hill, leading them to a well-presumed attack. A small whistle echoed above and Evelynn watched the tightly wrapped dark green orb bounce down the hill. Stamping her feet into the ground and drawing her blade.
"SEETHERS!"
Her entire army seethed their blades and ducked; a wave of silver kneeling down, snaking down the hill. Evelynn closed her eyes, squinting them tightly shut. The small crack of the orb and the clink of the ignition sent a cloud of orange into the air. Several followed down the hill. The orange cloud continued to hover over Evelynn's body. She could feel the scorching and painful burn in her eyes.
"ARISE!"
She screamed, forcing herself up from her knees. The wave continues upwards. Holding her eyes shut she forced herself up the hill, praying for a swift gust of wind. And so it did. The lingering remnants of the seether drifted high above them. The cry of her army bellowed from below as they met the tip of the hill.
~
Lisandra poised against the brick wall, pressing herself up against the warm grey bricks as she waited. Her eyes drifted open and closed slowly. The brief blinking lingered a moment longer before she let her eyelids fall.
Indistinct noise continued however sprouting her attention from afar.
At the tongue of the hill, the soft glint of silver appeared. The shine however grew much brighter as Lisandra rubbed her eyes in disbelief.
Her army lapped on the hill. Pouncing on Lisandra's second brigade.
It was a clash of humanity. Like the bodies had morphed into two different waves fighting for the possession of the sand, sulking beneath their feet and crying out in pain as the waves clashed together. The waving of swords and spilling of blood shifted into the soil as the waves of men continued to fight.
Lisandra couldn't seek out the Crown, but just the wave of blue tassels and blood-covered swords. Pressing her hands onto the stairwell wall, she glanced to her left. The bow and near-empty quiver called out in agony. Lisandra pressed her lips into a straight line and reached out for her bow and arrows.
~
They came like a thief in the night. Their stainless silver coats flashed across the hills. Evelynn picked her feet up from the ground one after another and charged forward with her blade. Immediately swiping up at an armoured soldier. The green tassel unfaltering indication. He did the same. Both attacks were powerful, incoherent and bloody. Evelynn pressed her sword up against his and without another thought, she reached with her spare hand into her armour and whipped out a smaller blade. Evelynn steadied herself and tricked the soldier, pretending to duck as she swiped her larger blade making him step back in response, leaving his lower limbs exposed. She sliced the knife over his thigh. The grind of metal resonated within Evelynn, before the echoing plunging sound of the blade met the side of his chest. Between the breastplate and his back.
~
Lisandra pulled the arrow back in her bow, resting the fletching on her cheek, watching her men steadily fall at the hands of her army. But she quite wasn't ready to lose yet.