Previous: Part- 1

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The elven palace stood a monument of beauty, it’s resplendence magnified by the white light of a full moon. Gwenleth stood upon one of its many balconies. Her beauty overshadowed the seemingly infinite stars that illuminated the darkness that night. She was looking upon the grand entrance of the surrounding fortress. Gwenleth was waiting for her love to return.

“My child, are you not cold?” Tyran asked, his voice ancient and wise. Even with her heightened senses, Gwenleth had not heard his footfalls behind her. His several millennia of existence had not hindered his grace. Gwenleth ran her hands along her arms, they were ice to the touch. She had not noticed before. She exhaled deeply, and her warm breath was steam in the cold air.

“I did not notice, father.” Her voice matched her beauty, it was sweet and benevolent. “He is yet to return. I could not sleep.”

“You need not worry, Gwen. He will return. Go into the warmth, and he will be by your side again come morn.”

“He stands against the odds with too few, he should have the entire army at his command.”

“And if they fell? If we were besieged by another, on this side of our realm? Who would defend us then? I am too old to fight the hordes of our enemies, alone.”

Gwenleth bowed her head, she knew that his wisdom would prevail. It always did. She loved that about her father, but it didn’t stop the aching that she felt in her heart. Tyran wrapped his arms her to warm and console. A clinking of armour disturbed their embrace. They headed to the source.

“My Lord. Princess.” Two royal guards spoke as one, escorting a torn and bloodied warrior between them. They knelt before the king.

“Stand and speak,” Tyran commanded.

The warrior could barely stand as the guards aided him. He removed his broken helmet to reveal three long gauges across his face, blood still dripping freshly from them.

“My lord. There is no time. El’rathien sent me to warn you. There were too many. We were defeated.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he collapsed back down to his knees. He looked up and turned to the Gwenleth. “El’rathien would not escape with me. He stopped at the pass to slow them.”

Gwenleth went over to him and wiped away his tear. She caressed the wounds on his cheek, and with a gentle yellow glow surrounding her hand, they healed.

“You did the duty that was given to you, I could not ask more.” She smiled at the warrior and turned to her father. Tyran was deep in thought, calculating his next step in the battle to come. He looked up at his daughter. There was a determination in his eyes. A fire that she had not seen in a long time. A fire that she had not seen since the wars of the elder races.

Tyran looked to his guards and commanded. “Bring me my armour and sword. Assemble the rest of the guard and one hundred of our best warriors. We ride to battle.” He turned to his daughter once more. “I will bring El’rathien back to you.”

*****

Will Tyran reach El’rathien before it’s too late? The conclusion to this story is coming next week! Thank you for reading.