Clara

"Attack!" Rathorin yells.

Shit.

This reminds me of when a spoiled toddler breaks some kid's toy because he can't have it. Sounds like Rathorin's maturity level.

I hop off the carriage with my staff in tow. I'm getting better with the sword and I have one buckled around my waist, but I want to stick with what I'm comfortable with. Plus, the staff helps make up for the reach difference I'm always encountering. Adjusting to being short is a trip. I've always been in the tall category my whole life. As my feet hit the ground, the sound of smashing glass chimes and know Elorshin's people have taken the cue they've been on standby for.

An all out battle between us and House Ti'ana.

If all had gone according to plan, Drevakin would have killed Rathorin in the one-on-one fight and avoided a full on battle. But shit has well and truly hit the fan. Elorshin told us about the plan Naefaren came up with when they went to rescue a kidnapped Margot. Smashing the lights in the tunnel and allowing the monsters into the cavern to help turn the tide in our favor seems monstrous, but I'm also a practical person. The alternative is letting House Ti'ana kill House Lo'ara to send a message and assuage an asshole's pride. We are all willing to accept the lesser of two evils.

As I prepare for the onslaught, people hustle behind the border walls of House Lo'ara. I know even with their addition to our forces, Rathorin significantly outnumbers us.

The archers on the top of the border wall are already setting their arrows loose, though they have to aim farther back to avoid hitting our own people.

The first House Ti’ana guard reaches me and over swings with a double hand grip on his heavy sword. I dodge as I smash my staff into his face and then sweep it under his legs to bring him down to the ground. He's out cold before he even hits.

I try to keep an eye on Drevakin and Rathorin and the tunnel as fighter after fighter reaches me. Rathorin's order to attack distracted Drevakin just long enough to allow the asshole to get to his feet. Before that, Drevakin had him. Which was why the little coward called for help.

I look away again, the fighting going on in front of me needing my attention. Training with Drevakin helped. None of the fighters that reach me are anywhere near his level, though it's difficult enough for me anyway because of the reach and weight advantage the Alvan have. But I'm used to Drevakin's quick and strategic fighting style. They’re almost slow and clumsy after fighting with him.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse the people who smashed the tunnel lights running around the bulk of the battle to bypass Rathorin's people and reach us.

When I look over at the tunnel's gaping mouth, the darkness is foreboding in a way it has never been for me before. I was never the kid afraid of the dark. But I guess I'm now the adult who is. The thought of the devos that Drevakin and I escaped before sends chills down my spine.

I land a swift kick to my attacker's balls, thankful that I'm wearing trousers. Not rocking the social norm boat is not worth tangling up my legs at an inopportune time and being run through. No, if I have to fight, I refuse to make things even harder for myself with yards of fabric.

I pull out my knife and stab the guy in the chest, blocking his attempt to run me through with his bigger knife. He looks stunned at the hilt sticking out from his chest, meeting my eyes as he drops to the ground. I swallow bile as I try not to dwell, moving on to the next guy. There will be plenty of time to over think and regret this later. There are too many people depending on me right now.

If I'm lucky.

A scream echoes off stone walls and I look toward the tunnel again, my heart skipping a beat. They look like a shadowy mass as they stream into the cavern, packed in close enough it’s difficult to discern each individual shape.

Devos.

Another scream as someone else notices.

As planned, the devos attack the fringes of the group closest to them. Rathorin's people.

Our forces pull back farther into the light shining from the border walls, the halo of safety is a flimsy one in the face of the swarming mass. The large gates in the border wall open in that moment. Reinforcements run out from inside the House, fresh people spreading out to help shore up our defenses. And not a second too soon.

While all of this is going on, I punch, kick, bludgeon, and stab my way through the people now attempting to cross into the light, away from the devos.

I glance over at Drevakin just as he swings his sword in a fatal arc, the light from the border wall glistening off the bright red blood splashed across it. Rathorin is on his knees in front of Drevakin, the sword cut right through his neck.

I'm almost numb to the violence, my brain's defense against everything I'm witnessing. I watch blankly as Drevakin grabs Rathorin's decapitated head by the hair and raises it up high. Rathorin's headless body topples over to the ground.

I swallow dryly, overwhelmed by everything.

"Your Prince is dead!" Drevakin bellows over the battlefield, Rathorin's bloody head held aloft so everyone can see. "Surrender or die!"

I look out and notice a significant number of Rathorin's men are already down. The swarm of devos have cut a large swath through the edge of the their forces closest to the tunnel entrance and farthest from the flood lights shining from the border wall.

Many of House Ti'ana's men are already fighting to get through to the safety of the light. All of them don't make it.

Side by side with Elorshin's men and Drevakin's, I fight back those that aren't willing to surrender, pushing them back out of the light and into the melee as our own people stay back from the edge of the darkness.

It doesn't take long before much of what's left of Rathorin's army throws down their weapons and hold up their hands to pass through to the light. The rest don't last long.

Soon, only the devos are alive in the nightmarish dark. The archers shoot into the swarm, each arrow finding a mark in the sea of monsters only yards away. One of them raises its bloody head to look at me, meeting my eyes with its milky ones. It bares its elongated fangs and hisses, blood dripping from its gore smeared face. An arrow fired from above lodges in its eye and then it's gone, joining all the others on the ground.

This is a victory, but a grim one.

Drevakin finds me in the crowd. I swallow as he pulls me into a tight hug, his emotions as dark as my own as we stand against the border wall, the sounds of arrows piercing flesh and the resulting screeches and growls echoing in the cavern.

As I try to block out the sounds, I wonder about the future. What now? What did we fight so hard for?