◤"Caeliterre will live. Wings must adapt to the wind. It's called staying alive."
In which the few remaining Fae fight and fail, love and lose, but embrace the wind.
◤Disclaimers: This is fantasy! Made up creatures. Violence, my characters kill in here; death and blood are a given. Be careful. Fluff and a tad bit more angst. Please make sure to view the Caeliman guide in the previous chapters before proceeding to avoid confusion! Bolded text is for human speech.
◤Word count: 19.4K
◤Author's note: Finally! I'm so excited and happy to be posting this, at last. Thank you so much for waiting and happy reading!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Un.
"Prosperity for all, the winged and the flightless, the enchanted and mundane, shall prevail as long as these wings beat the northern winds. Caeliterre will live."
Caeliterre will live. Those words were the thorns on a rose. Once beautiful, now painful. The words that once brought you so much pride and comfort, were now being stepped on, burned, and ripped apart as you saw the spears hail from the sky.
Your vision was blotched with images of their falling bodies. Many, too many of your men were dying, and you were helpless.
Wherever you looked, you saw blood. Fair feathers being tinted with that gruesome color, that cruel spear slicing through the Queen's heart. It all happened before you could process it, and you found yourself rushing to find the princess in a daze, upon the general's commands.
Chan had been at her side before you arrived, and he was trying to stop her from running towards her mother's lifeless body. She thrashed in his arms, crying, begging to be set free. Your heart broke and you felt her pain seep into your soul, yet you approached them with your wings spread for cover. Chan gave you a silent nod of acknowledgment and you started leading the devastated princess away from the center of chaos.
That's when you first saw them, wingless, heartless beings with their deadly weapons.
Hunters.
Deux.
The words hung on the wall on a tattered banner. The memories felt real, almost graspable, even after all those years. If there was something you'd never live over, it was the Caeliterre tragedy. The fall of the land you've grown and matured in, the land you've been raised to love and protect.
You sighed, letting your gaze drop from the finely structured letters and to the grimy ground.
"What are you doing?" You heard the thump of a landing and you didn't need to turn around to recognize the owner of the voice.
"Nothing," you shook your head, letting your shoulders relax.
"Y/n," Chan sighed, knowing that something was on your mind. It was always the same thing. "Caeliterre will live."
