The Spirit of Highland

Smoke and fire fill the air. It covers great stone buildings, burning everything it can into ash, from the very great trees of Oak to the trees of silver that are only known to this region of the world. The remnants of the soldiers of Highland who fought against the Bane soldiers are few. Bloody, battered, and exhausted, they are kneeling before the imperial stairs.

“Your lives will be spared at the behest of your rulers.” The great general of the Bane Kingdom stands before the Highland citizens, the male known as Thaddeus Felin. He stands dressed in armor stained with blood, his black hair is messily pulled back into a bun, wild eyes are shining with success.

The Bane soldiers surround the wounded and the royalty of the Highland kingdom, eyes on their leading general who is standing before a winged statue of some pathetic god they must worship here. The fountain water no longer runs clear, it runs blood red from all the killing that has happened today.

“Today the kingdom of the Highland empire is no more!” He shouts. “Today the Highland bloodline will be eradicated from this world and today you must all remember that it is the Kingdom of the Bane that will rid this world of these wretched rebels!”

He takes hold of the gigantic sword at his hip, holding it as if it must not weigh fifty pounds, his arm does not shake. “Toussaint Highland,” He calls. “Do you have any last words?”

The king with pale eyes and white hair does not turn to look at his murderer, he turns his head to his people, people who share the white hair of the king. The people of the highland land all share these features, white hair, and pointed ears, even the pale eyes.

“Do not yield to tyranny,” The King says. “The Spirit of Highland is unyielding-” Blood splatters across the gray stone steps, with one quick swing, the general has beheaded the honorable king of Highland. If the king wanted to say more the world would never know what it is he wished to say.

The sobs of the queen are loud, her white hair is drenched in blood, her pale eyes are full of tears and her arms are being held back by soldiers of the Bane Kingdom. “Halo Highland,” The general says. “Fret not,” he gives a wild smile. “You’ll be with your love in just a second.”

“I curse-” Her blood splatters over her husband's.

The general continues. He beheads the three oldest children of the Highland kingdom and when he reaches the youngest, a babe fast asleep in the arms of a nursing maid, he is silent for a moment.

“What terrible luck you have, girl.” The general says. “To be born the very day that your kingdom falls.”

Her blood meets the others, forever staining the imperial steps to the once great castle of the Highland empire.