Cry of the Elf

We are pitiful, disgusting. Taking advantage of our situation, claiming without remorse what isn’t ours. We all knew that it was wrong to do so, yet we did nothing to stop it. It was just something more that should happen, an event we shouldn’t interfere with. Obstructing the way imposed on us meant going to the gallows.

And never coming back.

It was between attacking defenseless towns or being hung to our deaths. It was either others’ lives or ours.

It was war, obviously, what twisted our principles and corroded our king, my uncle. It was war what had damned our kingdom and those around it. War was fire, tearing away at our sanity. War only brought more of it: war was the fuel to itself, the fire. Countless battles I’ve fought, a myriad of ambushes I’d survived, numerous times my head has had a price over it, but nothing could prepare me for the worst: The betrayal of my sister. Even in my death will I remember the merciless grin, the joy her sword through my chest brought her.

The fact that she would one day commit an atrocity of the sort was unthinkable to me, yet hints signaling to it were always there. When the War of Arthenia erupted, I joined into the ranks of soldiers. We were placed in the fourth division of the Susurrean Army, under the rule of the sorceress Yurin. Who was we? My sister, Ekana, the healer, Mi’ Nedae, the jester, Cos, his cousin, Ixaca, and me, the swordsman Dreflaen. We were a close group of friends, and we all managed to live after every battle. After every conquest. Two of us were family of the elven king, and two others were nobles, it made sense we always came out alive, none of us questioned it.

I remember the first time we were ordered to wipe out an entire community. I always was afraid of committing one atrocity such as that one. I asked our General to rethink the order, I tried to change her mind to no avail. We were pitiful, disgusting. We’d taken advantage of our situation as the upper hand and had claimed lives that didn’t belong to us. Watching my sister, my own flesh and blood, kill women and children with such disrespect was astonishing, it was something I couldn’t believe. I stood there and did nothing.

I watched the bloody truth without protest.

Several orders like the one already mentioned were issued. At first I resisted against raising my sword against those innocent, but my resistance could not hold on for long. I was the King’s nephew, I had to set an ‘example’ for others to follow or the other soldiers would also refuse obeying my uncle. My gift as a heir quickly turned into a sour possession. Very much so, considering my own sister murdered me because of my right as the next heir to the Susurrean throne.

“Friends, it is with a heavy heart that I bring this news to your ears. My soul has been torn to pieces; my mind has fallen to pieces. And yet, it is my duty to inform you, to tell you of the atrocity committed against our people, against my family and against our king.

“Friends, last night, during a successful maneuver, dwarven spies infiltrated our camp, and like the proper filth dwarves are, they murdered my brother, the heir to the throne, without challenging him to a proper duel. They stabbed him through the heart while he slept”. There was a large uproar.

“Yes, he was killed that same second. He went to sleep last night but never again will he wake up and see our victory over the other countries that threaten our own. Friends! Will we stand for this act of sheer cowardice?” A large crowd burst in negative answers. “Friends! I invite you to avenge our lost prince! Let us advance into Varhi territory and destroy all who once opposed us!” A smile played in her lips as she finished her speech, the soldiers had bought every word of it. With the grace of a Queen, the woman stepped down from the makeshift pulpit and entered a big tent. The smile in her face brighter than ever.

“Well done, Ekana, they will now fight harder than ever for us”, a tall woman spoke.

“But we cannot claim complete victory yet”, a man added, “Dreflaen was the first step, however, there is still a King to worry about”.

“Do hold your tongues Yurin, Mi’Nedal. Our revenge will come slowly, but the King is not an impediment. I assure you, my uncle will die by my own hands”.

War, the creator of schemes, and betrayals. Death, the ender of stories and unjust balancer of the world. I cry for, my sister was exposed to a large quantity of both. I cry, for my life ended because of war. I cry, for death is a one way road.

One I am not able to travel in reverse.