SIXTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴.
Xanthiene Vivenca has to find allies and legendary objects of po...
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2412, Diori 20, Reshpe
Denara screamed, her primal soul raging with the current of the war. This was what she lived for and this was where she would find herself in, again and again. It's as if this was all she's ever known.
War. Such a small word for an enormous event in anyone's life. Denara hated how every death, every sacrifice, and every incident of great importance could just be summarized in a tiny word which carried no weight.
She has lived for more than a thousand years and still, even when the language changed and even when the times have definitely moved on, the same word carried no meaning. War. It's just like saying something big happened and then one continues on without a second thought.
It was so easy to think of the Hundred Years' War as something which appeared and was gone in a blink. A hundred years was a short time. It flew by. As someone who fought in it, as someone who lived through all its grime, Denara thought it would be easier to face this brand new war.
She had never been this wrong.
Her heart pounded louder every time she heard someone cry in pain, be it an enemy soldier or one of her comrades at the front lines. She saw countless bodies fall down with blood, shatter into a thousand pieces, and lose more than just their souls. Every time the sun set and moons took its place, she heard all sorts of cries. Violent shrieks. Small gasps. Terrified howls. She saw tears of regret and even tears of anger.
She wanted it to stop.
That's why she was risking her neck out here once again. Denara, a fairy past her natural time, found herself in the same place she started out from. It's sickening. Was this how she's going to spend her life? Was war always going to be a part of her, if not, all of her?
Denara rolled to one side and raised her arms to block the incoming attack. The sword clanged, sending vibrations running through her forearm. She hardly felt it as she gritted her teeth and lashed out with her other arm, summoning a flurry of scalding waves from her synnavaim.
Water shot out from her palm, remembering the first time she discovered this trick with the water. Denara whipped her arm, the water hardening into a pole which hit a few unsuspecting soldiers dressed in black.
Cardovia and Synketros dressed their soldiers in black and Penleth preferred to keep to every race's traditional war attire. There was Canelis in her resplendent white robes, barreling through a sea of black, never once drawing the sword by her side, using shafts of light to momentarily blind enemy soldiers before disabling them through a quick jab at the back of the neck.
Elred, in an armor of glass the shard fairy had designed for herself, toppled soldiers with her glass sword, drawing blood but never enough to kill. Reeca, in her tree bark armor, fought side by side with her brother, Rhys, their orange and blue wings twirling in the air like butterflies dancing.
