Prologue
The battle waged. Too many days had passed. The air was thick with blood, the ground covered with it. The sun was high overhead, lighting up the carnage in a warm glow. Two men fought each other on a pillar of rock. Once likely a sea stack, but now sat inland after many years as the earth shifted and changed. Now one among many pillars, the land here was now drier. No coast line in sight. The border of the kingdoms. Red rock and desert to the east, lush thick green forest to the west. Creating a visual line acting as separation between the demons and dark fae lands.
Both men panting knowing they were pushing their limits, feeling the battle fatigue in their bodies. They had been at it for weeks. The armies attacking below them. Fighting on the ground and in the sky. The demon man’s bat-like wing had been sliced clean through the thin skin of the webbing of his wing, closest to his body. If he fell he would likely die, with only one wing to keep him aloft, his wings drooped slightly behind him.
The other man with the bird-like wings, covered in brown feathers, slashed at him with his sword. They clashed, both men leaning on each other. The bird-winged men pushed away and slashed for the other man’s face. The bat-winged man leaned back, the sword tip missing his face by inches. The air brushed over his face as the blade passed. Both men were covered in blood from various injuries, their armor doing its job to keep them safe.
When would the bloodshed end? How many more people would have to die? The bird- winged man slashed again, the bat-winged man took a few steps back, adding the blade. The edge of the cliff gave way and he fell over the cliff edge, disappearing from view.
The bird-winged man dove after the other man who was struggling to right himself. But he was just flailing in the air, with only one working wing. The bird-winged man flew closer to the bat-winged man, his sword pointed down. Ready to stab him through, as the ground quickly came to meet them.
The bat-winged man watched as his pursuer sheathed his sword. Closed his wings to reach for him.
“Here!” The bird-winged man said, offering his hand.
The other man looked up at him, confused. Why was he offering to help him? They were at war. He reached up and they clasped each other’s forearms. Using their wings to stop them from crashing into the ground, flapping hard against gravity. They were too close to the ground for a graceful landing. Instead they tumbled to the ground together. Limbs and wings flailing, tossing up red sand.
Both men slowly moved, struggling to be the first to stand. The bat-winged man shook himself, running towards the man who had just saved him, sword raised. But why save him? Their people had been at war for centuries. Why had he saved him? The bat-winged man collided, the clang of metal on metal rang in their ears. Metal grating on metal. Eyes on one another, blades crossed. The bird-winged man smiled at him.
“Glad you’re alive,” he said, his voice tired.
“Why did you save me?” The bat-winged man asked as they pushed away from one another.
Still ready to fight, but the air stilled between them like it knew something was going to change. As if the earth had been waiting in anticipation for the next exchange.
“How long will we do this? How long will all the killing last? Our parents and our grandparents were at war. We have always been at war. When will it end? Do we repeat history or do we strive to raise our children in peace? How many more generations need to die? Our children? Our children’s children? They’re children?” the bird-winged man asked, tired of war. Taking a chance on hope.
The bat-winged man blinked in surprise. They had always been at war with each other. demons against dark fae. It was written in their histories. Everyone was trained to fight from the time they could walk. Could they have peace? The bat-winged man dropped his hands to his waist and regarded the other man.
“What do you propose, Anco?” The bat wing man asked, his hand still on his lowered sword, the other on his hip.
“A union.”
“A union?”
“You have a son, yes?”
“Yes, but you have no child.”
“I have no blood heir but I have a child. She is mine. When they both come of age. I propose a union. Deggal, this could be a step for the next generations to live in peace. We are both proud races, we could be unstoppable together.”
Deggal thought about it for a moment. “I accept. When will she be of age?”
“Fifiteen years on the fall solstice. And yours?”
“He’s five years ahead of her. To peace,” the bat winged man said, holding his hand out. The men shook each other’s forearms.
