The first golden rays of sunlight spilled over the outpost's courtyard, casting long shadows as the camp slowly came to life. Hoki stood in the center, daggers flashing like silver lightning in her hands. Each blade hit the wooden post dead-center, embedding deep with a satisfying thunk.
"Damn..." Feredis muttered, watching from the sidelines. "Show-off."
Drawn by curiosity-and pride-he strutted over, arms crossed. "You know... that's impressive for someone who doesn't use magic. Must be exhausting relying on... 'muscles'."
Hoki, unfazed, retrieved a blade and smirked. "Muscles don't fizzle out under pressure." She gave him a once-over. "You... wanna try?"
"Step aside, dagger girl," Feredis grinned, cracking his knuckles theatrically. "Let me show you how a real practitioner handles it."
Fror and Gror, nearby sharpening their axes, exchanged a glance. "Oh, this'll be good," Gror snorted.
With exaggerated flair, Feredis took his position, muttering an incantation. A faint glow sparked at his fingertips-then promptly fizzled out with an awkward puff.
Fror burst out laughing. "What was that? A spell or a sneeze?"
Scowling, Feredis tried again, louder this time. "By the arcane forces, I com-" Another sputter. Smoke. No dagger.
Gror wheezed. "Look, he summoned disappointment!"
Even Hoki chuckled, arms folded, eyebrow raised. "You're right, Feredis. Magic really is exhausting."
Red-faced, Feredis threw up his hands. "Fine! Laugh it up! I'll show you all." He spun on his heel and stormed off. "One day, you'll be begging for me to conjure something!"
Fror cupped his hands around his mouth. "Conjure us a drink while you're at it!"
Furious, Feredis stomped down to the pond, grabbed a pebble, and skipped it half-heartedly. It bounced twice-then sank, like his pride.
"Stupid magic... stupid monastery..." he muttered, kicking at the dirt.
Mei-Ling had watched the whole thing from a distance. With a soft sigh, she wandered over, seating herself beside him.
"Rough morning?" she asked gently.
Feredis huffed. "I'm hopeless. Every time I try, I screw it up. I couldn't even get into the damn wizard's monastery... and now I can't even impress a knife-throwing girl."
"You know," Mei-Ling mused, "for a self-proclaimed magical prodigy, you're dangerously close to inventing 'pity magic'."
Feredis groaned. "I feel like a pity case."
Mei-Ling nudged him lightly. "What if I told you... there's a way I could help?"
Feredis blinked. "What, you're gonna loan me a spell book? Or bribe the monastery?"
She smiled. "Better. Where I come from... there's a ritual. Power... can be shared. Passed from one to another."
He stared at her. "You mean... you're offering to... what? Supercharge me?"
"In a way," Mei-Ling nodded. "It's not permanent, but it'll give you... a little boost. Just enough to remind you what it feels like to win for once."
Feredis squinted. "And this won't, uh... kill me, right? I'm allergic to exploding."
"No promises," Mei-Ling grinned. "But I like you enough not to fry you." She held out her hands. "Trust me?"
He hesitated... then slowly placed his palms against hers. "You are enjoying this a little too much."
"A little," she admitted. Closing her eyes, Mei-Ling exhaled, a soft golden glow enveloping their hands.
Feredis stiffened as a surge of energy shot through him-warm, tingling, exhilarating. His eyes widened. "Holy-what is that?!"
"That," Mei-Ling smirked, "is me lending you a fraction of what I am."
Feredis sat there, blinking, flexing his fingers like he'd just woken up from a dream. "I feel... amazing. Like I could throw a mountain. Or at least... finally hit a damn target."
"Maybe start with the target," Mei-Ling teased, standing. "Mountains tend to fight back."
For the first time that morning, Feredis grinned. "You're alright, Mei-Ling. Remind me to owe you... when I'm famous."
"Oh, you'll owe me, Feredis," she winked. "Big time."
And with that, the two of them sat by the pond a moment longer, the sunlight catching the ripples-hope, humor, and a little magic bridging the gap between failure and the fight to come.
****
Lady Mirna stood tall in the courtyard, her arms crossed as she surveyed the gathered troops with a sharp, calculating eye. Her presence alone commanded attention, the weight of authority resting easily on her shoulders.
Yet amid the flurry of preparations, her gaze settled-uncomfortably-on two familiar faces. Hattori and Honzo stood off to the side, cool as ever, sharpening their blades like the world wasn't on the verge of war.
Mirna sighed. "Great... you two." After a brief internal debate, she approached, her boots crunching against the stone. She cleared her throat. "Alright, listen..."
The Elves didn't so much as glance up.
"I just wanted to say..." Mirna pressed on, voice lowering, "I owe you both... an apology."
That got their attention. Slowly, both elves turned-stone-faced, unreadable.
"For the arrest," she added quickly, frowning. "It was duty, not personal." She gave an awkward shrug. "If it helps... I did almost feel bad about it."
Silence. The Elves exchanged a glance, then looked back at her, blank as freshly polished steel.
Mirna's eye twitched. "Seriously? Nothing? Not even a grunt?"
More silence.
With an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up. "Why are you elves always so damn stoic? I'm apologizing here!"
Finally, Honzo blinked, glancing at Hattori. "Are we supposed to clap now, or...?"
Hattori shrugged. "Maybe she expects a medal for good behavior?"
Mirna groaned. "By the gods, you two are infuriating. If this war kills me, it'll be from trying to get a full sentence out of you."
Honzo smirked faintly. "If it helps, Lady Mirna... we accept your apology."
"Really?" she blinked. "That's it? Just like that?"
"We're practical," Hattori said. "Holding grudges is heavy. Slows the sword arm."
Mirna barked a laugh despite herself. "Hells, you're impossible." She started to turn, then paused, flashing a rare grin over her shoulder. "Glad you're on our side this time... even if you are emotionally constipated."
Hattori deadpanned, "We'll put that on the family crest."
And with that, the awkward truce was sealed-clumsy, sarcastic, and somehow... perfect.
****
Aelric and Lorianthel stood side by side, tightening the straps of their saddles as the army formed ranks behind them. The rising sun caught on polished steel and drawn banners-an omen of the battle to come.
Aelric exhaled sharply and turned. "Mei-Ling." His voice was firm, commanding. "You stay here. At the outpost."
Mei-Ling's eyes narrowed. "No." The single word was soft, but resolute. "I swore I'd fight by your side, Aelric-even unto death."
Aelric's jaw tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. "I'm not asking." His voice rose. "You're needed here. Do as you're told!"
The words hit Mei-Ling like a slap. Her breath caught, pride warring with heartbreak, but she said nothing. She merely nodded once, biting back the protest clawing at her throat.
Aelric stared at her for a moment longer, regret already creeping into his features. Without another word, he turned sharply and barked, "Lorianthel, sound the march!"
The army moved forward with thunderous steps, banners whipping in the wind. Mei-Ling stood frozen, watching Aelric ride off, a storm of emotions swirling inside her.
Not a minute passed before Jingfei appeared at her side. "You're about to do something stupid, aren't you?"
Mei-Ling barely glanced at her. "He wants me to stay so I don't see him die. But I won't stand here while he fights for me... for us... alone."
Jingfei sighed, resigned. "Of course. And there's no point trying to stop you, is there?"
"None at all." Mei-Ling gave a small, strained smile. "But thank you... for knowing."
With that, she moved-swift as the wind-leaping into the trees with effortless grace. Jingfei stood watching her go, muttering, "You dramatic, lovesick fool... you'd better survive so I can say 'I told you so'."
****
Mei-Ling flew through the forest canopy like a phantom, her every step as silent as moonlight. Finally, she perched on a high branch at the forest's edge-and there, sprawling across the field like a sea of gold, stood Aezaric's army.
"Gods..." she whispered, eyes widening as she caught sight of Aelric's smaller force approaching in the distance. She felt her breath hitch-he was down there.
So focused was she that she didn't hear the rustle behind her until it was too late.
A cold blade kissed her throat. "Found you, little bird."
Before she could react, strong arms dragged her back. The world spun-tree, sky, ground-and then blackness.
****
When Mei-Ling came to, she was flung unceremoniously onto the cold ground. She looked up into the face of King Aezaric, his eyes glittering with cruel amusement. He loomed over her, cane in one hand, a bloodstained handkerchief in the other.
"So..." His voice was like gravel and poison. "You're the witch who's turned my grandson into a lovesick traitor."
Mei-Ling glared up at him, jaw set, but said nothing.
Aezaric's grin widened. "No clever words? No pretty lies?" He coughed harshly, staining the cloth dark red. "Good. Makes this easier."
His gaze darkened. "When he sees you bleed, perhaps he'll remember where his loyalties lie." He turned to his guards. "Bind her. Parade her where he can see. Then shout the terms: his surrender, or her head rolls. Either way, the boy learns his place."
A harsh, rasping laugh tore from Aezaric's throat. "Love... what a pitiful weakness." He coughed again, spitting into the dirt. "Let's see if it gets him killed."
Mei-Ling, even with the blade at her neck, smiled coldly. "I think you'll find love is far more dangerous than you realize... Your Highness."
But the king only laughed again, wheezing. "We'll see, witch. We'll see."
And with that, the stage was set. The trap was laid. Now, it was only a matter of time before blood was spilled.