(Titania, Queen of the Fairies' POV)
Now that the armies of land and sea have arrived...
We may begin.
My husband and I exchange a glance before signaling the Sea Folk.
Every merfolk sovereign joins hands with General Varso, forming a circle around the tiny island.
Once they're in position, I lead the Knights of Light and Brick across the wooden bridge.
Together, we surround the trunk of the Ancient Willow.
Each of us takes our place at one of the five points of the living star.
Then...
We close our eyes.
No words are needed.
We all know what comes next.
Almost in whispers, we begin the ancient Runic Chant:
O sacred Fairy Glade,
by Heaven's Runes held dear,
you call us to the fate
the heavens marked so clear.
The Mermaids and Tritons join our voices:
The Sigillum lies broken,
by greed and grief undone;
little time remains
before the world's last sun.
One by one, the rest of the army joins in.
Our voices merge.
Growing louder.
Stronger.
Rolling across the morning sky.
We who long for Love,
in Peace still place our trust;
though war is not our choice,
we march because we must.
O Runes of Heaven, guide our way;
unseal the path
to fate's divine display.
Now...
The chant slows.
Our voices soften.
In every Kingdom's name,
in every faithful Heart,
may the Sigillum rise again
through all our grief and scars.
Should darkest night descend,
Light shall be our shield.
Then our voices rise once more—
Clear.
Resolute.
O eternal Runes, now hear our cry;
save the world
we cannot leave to die.
The Runes answer at once.
A gentle breeze passes through each of us...
Leaving behind the Oracle's wisdom.
And the Oracle's insight.
(Sidae the White Lion's POV)
All the two-legged creatures...
And those with tails like fish...
Have fallen peacefully asleep.
Groar.
My unicorn friend Raertha flies toward the Willow, tracing a great spiral around it.
Then—
A burst of radiant colors blossoms around the sphere where young Aileen rests.
Floating gently through the air, the Princess is welcomed into the Willow's branches.
The Runes will watch over her.
They'll keep her safe throughout the coming battle.
Raertha will remain by her side, lending her strength through his healing power.
Hercules and I...
We'll fight beside Grogher and Dorcha.
It's time.
(Dorcha's POV)
The moment I open my eyes, I seize my sword and draw it.
Ready.
I'm standing in the middle of an immense plain.
Before us rise mountains so vast they stretch beyond the horizon.
The Sliabh Mountain Range.
In all its overwhelming grandeur.
I came here once as a child...
Even now, it steals my breath.
Most of the soldiers stare in stunned silence.
I doubt they've ever seen anything like this.
The sea lies behind us.
I remember this place being full of life.
Now...
It's barren.
Nothing remains.
The sun hangs low, dim...
Already leaning toward night.
Not a good sign.
Time is running out.
If it weren't for the uneasy murmurs drifting through the ranks, the silence would feel almost unreal.
And yet...
There's no sign of the Trolls.
Or the Orcs.
What game is Urchoicha playing?
She has to know we're here.
So why aren't those monsters trying to kill us?
She loves blood.
She loves war.
I don't understand.
"This is too strange," I say.
The Golden Knights nod.
"Maybe they don't want to fight," Gaithy suggests. "Maybe they've decided to give up power and help save the world instead!"
...She's so innocent.
My stepfather?
My stepmother?
Give up power?
Not even if they were buried beneath a mountain of worms.
Night is drawing closer.
We need a plan.
Aeltiàfisar looks as though he's reading my mind.
Maybe he is.
"Baelnes," he says, "prepare the camp."
(Baelnes' POV)
A few touches of magic...
And there it is.
A vast military camp, divided into sections, each one assigned to a different Kingdom.
At the entrance to every sector stands a large command tent bearing that kingdom's banner, ready for its generals.
In the very center rises an enormous pavilion, reserved for our war council.
Inside, I've created a large pool connected directly to the sea, surrounded by a circular table and rows of chairs.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
Varsos and the Merfolk Sovereigns are already waiting.
One by one, the other commanders file inside without a word.
Their eyes say enough.
This will be the greatest battle any of us has fought in centuries.
The tension hangs on every face.
Everyone takes a seat around the great table.
I remain by the entrance.
Watching.
When the last chair is filled, Fheall breaks the silence.
"It's unlikely the Orcs and Trolls don't already know we've arrived. We shouldn't go looking for them. This land is vast, and the Trolls make their homes deep within the mountains. If we march into those peaks, we'll be walking straight into deadly ambushes."
"I think that's exactly what Urchoicha wants," Dorcha says. "She wants us trapped inside those mountain passes... so her warriors can wipe us out."
"It won't happen," Aeltiàfisar replies without hesitation.
"We'll find a way to draw them here," Baelkers says.
"How do you intend to fight Orcs and Trolls on equal footing?" Varsos asks. "They're enormous compared to the rest of us."
I've been wondering the same thing.
How in the world are we supposed to do that?
"I've got it!" Crill declares.
Every head turns toward him.
"I'll make it so that whenever one of us faces an Orc or a Troll, we'll automatically become the same size they are! That way, every fight will be even."
"...But what if being smaller becomes an advantage?" someone asks.
"Then all you'll have to do is wish for it."
"And it'll happen."
Now that could change everything.
It'll drain an incredible amount of magic from Crill...
But he doesn't seem worried in the slightest.
The meeting stretches on for hours.
Hundreds of ideas are discussed.
Rejected.
Refined.
Until, at last, a decision is made.
At dawn, our army will form up exactly as any ordinary army would before battle.
Then...
Fheall.
Baelkers.
And Aeltiàfisar.
The three of them will establish a telepathic link with the enemy rulers...
...and formally declare war.
May the Great Sage watch over us.
(Aileen's POV)
Lost inside this endless sleep, I can still see my people.
The night is clear.
No stars.
Only a full moon hanging high above the camp.
Everyone has returned to their tents, waiting for the battle that dawn will bring.
Some polish their armor to keep their hands busy.
Some sharpen their blades.
Some are overtaken by old memories...
Or by the fear of dying.
Others try to sleep.
And fail.
Then...
I find Dorcha.
He shares a tent with dear Grogher.
Grogher is asleep.
Dorcha isn't.
He's lying on his cot, staring into the darkness.
He must be so frightened...
I wish I could comfort him.
(Dorcha's POV)
For the first time...
Grogher's heavy breathing doesn't calm me.
I can't stop thinking about Aileen.
Will she ever wake up...?
Will she survive?
And...
Will I stay alive long enough to see her one more time?
The Orcs won't show me any mercy after my betrayal.
They'll come after me first.
And they'll come after Grogher too.
He betrayed them to protect me.
If anything happens to him...
I'll never forgive myself.
My fingers close around the little aquamarine hanging from my neck.
I know exactly what Aileen would say.
"Hang in there, Dorcha. We'll make it through this. Everything's going to be okay. You'll see."
Yeah...
It will.
My love...
For you...
I'll face anything.
(Aileen's POV)
Orga, Airgead, and Ceatha are resting apart from the others, alongside dozens of Dilophosaurs and Gargoyles.
Each sleeps in its own way.
One eye closed.
The other half open.
...
A dull thud.
Sharp.
What's happening?
The dragons lift their heads in perfect unison.
Listening.
The Dilophosaurs and Gargoyles scan the darkness as well.
Every one of them is on alert.
Not a good sign.
Another thud.
Then another.
Closer.
Closer still.
Something suddenly catches their scent.
A rush of air ripples through the Dilophosaurs' crests.
Airgead reacts first.
He rises onto his feet and unleashes a torrent of fire.
A scream tears through the darkness.
Out of nowhere—
A Troll appears.
As massive as a hill.
Its entire body engulfed in flames.
Orga and Ceatha add their own fire to the inferno.
The Troll runs.
Screaming.
Trying desperately to smother the flames.
It can't.
The ground shudders beneath its pounding footsteps.
Moments later...
It collapses.
Still.
Consumed by fire.
The dragons.
The Gargoyles.
The Dilophosaurs.
Every one of them turns toward the camp.
A heartbeat later—
Explosions.
One after another.
Rhythmic.
Relentless.
Close.
Columns of fire erupt from every direction.
Dorcha!
Grogher!
The dragons and Gargoyles roar their warning.
The Dilophosaurs answer them.
Within seconds...
The entire camp is awake.
The war has begun.
Soldiers and knights pour from their tents, weapons already in hand.
But the enemy they're fighting...
Is the fire.
Flames everywhere.
Burning tents.
Soldiers racing to contain the blaze.
Terror spreads through the camp.
But where's Dorcha?
Why can't I see him?
Dorcha!