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Blades of Light and Shadow, a Choices Fanfiction
🕑 Added 2022-03-09 22:15:29 +0000 UTC
Prologue: Dreadlord
Fire, smoke, and dread. They filled the air in shrouds, stifling and choking all who fought, struggled, and died on the massive, blood-soaked battlefield below. Wave upon wave of the Enemy crashed into the weary but resolute Elven defenders. Blades of starlight and forged shadow clashed and clattered in a hellish symphony, accompanied by feral cries torn from both elven and monstrous throats. Life and death hung in the balance for every single soul present there. The corpses of elves lay upon the smoking ground in piles, blackened by flames, rent by swords and claws, sightless eyes staring at the sky even while their brethren fought on.
Only Elves lay there, for the Enemy left no bodies when they died, vanishing in plumes of horrible black smoke. Their blood was real enough at least. It was small consolation though to the ones who slew them, for it left the hordes of Shadow Legion seemingly unphased by the still staggering amounts of causalities inflicted upon their heartless, dark-armored ranks by the Elves' heroic last stand. There was always more, marching ever on, determined to stomp out the last line of defiance keeping their demonic advance at bay. But the Elves would not surrender.
High upon the parapets, the High King of the Elves, Xaius, stood alone as he watched his people fight on to the bitter end. His golden hair flowed behind him in the choking gusts of air and smoke billowing up from below, ice-eyes set in a fierce line below his troubled brow. His golden circlet rested there, bright gems still shining, though his blue robes and golden armor were marred, scuffed, and singed by the signs of battle. Even now, as he watched friends, comrades, brothers and cousins torn apart, he remained resolute, stoic, and hardened. His conviction would not waver.
"Archers!" he roared, stentorian voice audible even over the hell-scape before him. "Fire on my signal! Catapults! Hold for the next wave!" He turned to survey his remaining troops not currently engaged on the fields below, hand lifting to give the order...when a hideous shriek pierced the iron-grey and red-tinted clouds above him. His head whipped up in time to see a creature, terrible and ugly, swooping down out of them towards him.
It was a gargoyle, an awful beast formed of dark, enchanted stone and pure shadow. Legions of its ilk billowed in the sky above, a constant source of harassment for the beleaguered defenders upon the walls. Red veins like molten lava were the only bright spots on its ebony hide, as well as the piercing, merciless red eyes blazing inside its monstrous face. Its wings and hair looked to be made of nothing but wisps of smoke given form. Its speed was impossibly fast as it streaked down toward him, glittering claws raised, lipless mouth stretched in a shrieking snarl.
Xaius reached for his sword a second too slow, only to watch a sudden blast of light, in the shape of a blazing comet, catch the gargoyle in the side. It gave one last shrill cry before being blown into wisps of nothingness. A second later, a woman bounded into view beside him, easily scaling the stairs leading to the top of the parapet.
Ellara the Battle-Mage beamed at him, auburn hair swept back from her moon-bright face and framing her long ears. Her silver armor was as burnished and shining as ever, although her eyes spoke of the shared battle-exhaustion they and their entire Race now saw as existence in this war. The sapphire-star of her diadem almost seemed diminished in the gloom of that dark day.
"Looks like you could use a hand, my love," she told him glibly, trying for a pleased smirk to her husband.
Xaius responded with one of his own, even if deep inside he had no heart behind it. "I had it handled." His eyebrows, legendary for their glower, furrowed. "What's the situation at the front?"
She too dropped the teasing air. "The shadow forces are many but they are weak. Our front line is still holding them back, but we have suffered heavy losses."
The two ruling Elves looked out across the battlefield. More surges of silver flame, flashes of bright light, and the shining blades of countless Elven heroes leading the charge as they, impossibly, began to push their ageless enemy slowly back, driving them step by tortured, blood-soaked step, from their city. The sun momentarily shone through the clouds, piercing rays of purity and brightness bringing hope to the last line of the world's defenders.
Ellara chanced a smile as bright as the stars. "I cannot believe that we might actually win thi~"
A thunderous boom suddenly shook the entire field, the castle shuddering beneath their feet. Both King and Queen struggled to maintain their armored footing. A sentry fell with a scream off the walls, barely caught in time by the magical efforts of two of his companions. Just as the sun had momentarily dared to peek its head out from its choking covering, it once again vanished as new waves of darkness and gloom swept over it, casting the plains once again in hellish dim light.
Xaius and Ellara whirled around to see the cause of this newest disturbance. Their hearts sank. Across the fields, behind the advancing line of a new wave of Shadow Legion, a colossal form began to appear, blotting out the sky and fields behind it as it continued to stand taller and taller. Shadows and smoke parted like a cloak, coming to rest on the shoulders and towering, inhuman body, rising up to a crowned head that was all horns, spikes, flashing lightning and hardened flesh like stone. Flame crackled and shone through rents in its non-flesh and armor, blazing eyes balefully glaring down at those who defied it. Its jaws opened wide, showing teeth that were all of black obsidian and sharpened into fangs. It towered above the walls, mightier and more terrible than anything before, anything under its command.
The Dreadlord had come.
With one wave of its flaming hand, it spoke a word in an Abyssal tongue that boomed across the field like the tolling of a bell. From the palm erupted a storm of black shards of metal, raining down among the soldiers below. Shadow Legion and Elf alike were skewered by blades of midnight longer than they were, impaled in grotesque positions. Their only consolation would have been instantaneous death.
The King of the Elves paled at the sight. Eyes that knew no fear of any creature, even a demon, flickered with a terror that surpassed Mortal stoicism and composure, even that of one as aged, experienced, and powerful as he. It was an evil beyond any mortal Sin, the monster known even to its own followers as the greatest malevolence ever born. "Gods above..." he breathed as the horror before him continued to unfold. "It's the Dreadlord! The madmen actually succeeded in summoning him!"
A hand reached out and took firm hold of his. He could feel Ellara shuddering, she too overcome by the aura of dread that emitted from it, even so far away. He met her eyes, hating to see fear there where usually was light and fiery wit. "My love...what do we do?"
He turned to face her directly, and beyond, to his beloved city and the people he had sworn to rule and defend until his dying breath. He clasped her hand in both of his, not allowing his fear to overcome his determination. Tears of unspoken love sparkled in his eyes as he looked at his wife and companion of countless years. His face as as hard and stoic as it had ever been.
"We fight," he told her. He looked beyond to his men who all waited for their king's command. All knew it was likely to be his last. "We die." He turned back to face their mortal foe as the Dreadlord began to stride slowly towards the city's gleaming walls, the last Light of the Mortal world left to extinguish. From his waist he drew Sol, the gleaming sword of his legacy, and raised it on high. Even in the darkness, it shone bright. "And we pray, that some day, a hero will avenge us!"
The Dreadlord reached for them on the walls, all the darkness and fires of Evil and Hell itself billowing behind it.
"Some day..."
Two thousand years later...
