The Strength of the Chosen

I turned south and I ran. My muscles surged with  energy, pushing my faster than any other elf had run and faster than the horses. Fields blinded past me and I laughed delightedly as I realised they could not stop me. I would go to the elf army and surrender, say I held Princess Eddia captive. They would find truth in my eyes for I truly felt as if i had. Hedges passed in green blurs. Animals did not even look up, by the time they had heard me I was half a mile away. Air pulled inside me and burst out like growls with the sobs from my chest. 

I had gone past the battle field then turned east, then west, then south once more before returning north and ending back at the battle field. My enhanced senses could hear the elfin army; we were outnumbered by nine to one. Then I caught lighter footsteps behind me and I tensed in a defensive position. I had a plan. I had to protect her. She had to survive. There was simply no other way. 

A flash of gold and white and blue. 

Her eyes told me everything. Whatever I felt, no matter how strongly, was impossibly tripled in her own heart. She loved me when I loved another; it was a miracle. I wanted her again. I craved her touch. If this was to be the last few hours we had together, I would make them last. Somewhere in my subconscious I knew Jibril and High King Marlow were running out in a circle out of hearing range to other elves, but I could hear them. They were giving us what they had and all they had. It was all we needed. 

Some time later we gathered in silence. There was no need for words. What would we even say? How could you say goodbye to people you loved, people you would gladly die for? I did not possess the words to tell them my feelings. It would be easier to say in the language I used for magic; I could picture the words now, feel them glowing around my tongue. Saliva welled in my mouth in response. My magic would help me win the fight, or sacrifice myself if it came to that. 

 

The End

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