As the last purebred fae of her tribe Allahie was the leader of war. She was 100 years old and had decades of experience.
Still, when the war familiar bugles sounded fear crept into her chest. Her village was so happy and peaceful making it a constant battle ground. Everyone wanted a piece of it.
The clan elder looked to her as she adjusted her quiver and protective chest plate. "By the way of the Wyrd, my darling Allahie, bring us guidance."
Allahie dipped her head in ackowlegement and nodded to her small team of demi-fae. They were large and strong compared to mortals but still were so small compared to a pure fae as herself.
With a twitch of her fingers ice wrapped itself around her bow, and shields went up around the village. "Be strong my team. You are all that stands between fear and despair. You do not buckle, even if hope is lost."
"Allahie, they have taken to mounting werewolves...." A voice hissed in the back, and her senses honed into the bleeding messanger--who had taken an arrow, but his little magic had saved his life.
"Silver arrows," Allahie growled, strolling to the stone walls of her village. She would give her life if she had to today. Any time that war bugle sounded she was willing. For if she died her magic would shoot air and kill all enemies. "And my ground soldiers, silver shields to you."
A jolt crackled her force field over head and she shivered as she felt the twist of her magic buckle in her chest. With a blink she willed it back into place. "We must hurry."
In a few moments her team was on the wall. The enemy could already be heard by all their delicatly pointed ears. With a rustle all their bows were nocked. "Wyrd be with us."
Seconds later the first mounted werewolf burst through the trees, and seconds after it was followed by more. They were all black or brown, the alpha hadn't even showed itself yet. This was going to be a long fight.
Arrow after silver arrow rained upon them. Demi-fae were gifted just as much as she was with precise skills. When the wolves collapsed, the massive purebred male faes did a neat roll before siezing the castle walls, were her groud troops met them.
It was going to be a vicious battle, her demi-fae soldiers weren't a match. With a blink her magic cracked into armored sides of her enemy sending them flying. She could aleady feel a strain of her magic dwindling.
"My lord, the alpha approaches." She let her focus go as she honed in on the massive silver were wolf trotting out of the woods at them. Upon the gleaming white fur of the wolf was the lord. He was in a black twisting armor with a grey swirling cape. His crown was glowing red and his silver hair sweeped behind him. This male was equally gifted high, purebred fae. She saw his black brows twitch and instantly, no matter how hard she struggled, her magic fell instantly.
When Allahie almost could make out the colors of his eyes, she let loose her arrow as she threw everybit of her crying magic into it. She saw him twist his head at the arrow, and felt his magic push back, but it was to late as it slammed into his shoulder. The perfect mark, right in the crease of his armor.
As he flew back of the alpha werewolf with gleaming red eyes, Allahie screamed as she flew back off the wall herself. She hadn't realized that when her magic fell with such ease, it was beacuse it was welcoming her mate--that her magic would never fight her mate.
So when she shot the arrow at the lord, and it hit it's mark, she felt the effects shoot down their connected bond. If she had killed that purebred fae male, she would have killed herself.