Suddenly, a faint sound of cannons came from the horizon, alerting the Fae King that their enemy was upon them. He turned to look up at his Elven army and nodded. His army, ever loyal, ever strong, stood ready at the edge of the rock. They yielded weapons in one hand and shields in the other. Not only were the Elven warriors strong, Argon knew his battalion held weapons even magic could not destroy.
It was magic itself that had fueled the conflict between the kingdoms; it was also magic that could save them all.
The Elven Admiral trotted down the cliff to meet Argon. His height towered the king; his long, metallic-colored hair pulled into a braid against his back. The moonlight bounced off the elf’s niveous skin, which was as fair as the shore’s white sand. He reached out to the king, and Argon placed the compass in the warrior’s hands, who then secured it in a leather pouch.
“Hide the weapon on Crotona Island,” Argon requested, reaching into his cloak, pulling out a map. “Hide it here,” the king said quietly, pointing to a sketch of the caves. “Be wary of what lies on that island, Hagmar; you are the only one who has ever made it out of that land alive. Protect the Kroneon as if your life depended on it.”
The Fae King watched Hagmar stand straight as he gave him an agreeable nod.
“Aiden!” Hagmar summoned his son, who waited with the rest of the battalion. The boy hurried to the brave admiral and looked up. He was no more than the age of ten, and Hagmar set his hand on his son’s thin yet strong shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
The young boy stood taller to try and meet his father’s eyes; his lips shook as he said, “Yes, Father?”
Hagmar, forcing a smile on his lips, knelt next to his son. He ran a hand over his jet-black hair.
“I’ll be back before sunrise, child. You must step in my place and care for your mother. Protect her, as the enemy ships will be upon us soon,” Hagmar said. His son sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
“Where, Father? Where do we go?” asked the Elven child.
“The Eastland Caves,” King Argon answered for him.
“Yes,” Hagmar affirmed. “Take your mother and the other women and children to the caves, both elves and fairies.” He dropped a fatherly kiss on Aiden’s forehead. When he pulled back, he said, “You are next to lead the army. Show the king you can lead, Aiden. With or without me.”
The boy stood back; tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded to his father. Hagmar secured his sword in his sheath and ran towards their ship, his battalion following closely behind.
Princess Cassia searched the sky to find Anaru and Dergis, their dragons, flying overhead. She listened intently as they roared above—a warning. The ships were getting closer.
“Not much longer, Argon,” Maydean cried. “I can hear the sirens calling out.”
Argon leaned forward, placing his hand on the crying child’s forehead to soothe her. Maydean watched as something flickered in his eyes as he looked into Seraphina’s.
“Go, Maydean, now,” he rushed her, staring at the horizon. “Hide the key.”
The princess unsheathed her sword, placing it in front of her. “I see their ships! Brother, I will fight with you!”
Argon watched Maydean dive into the sea with the child, disappearing among the silver-crested waves. A small moment of hope reached Cassia. She swallowed several times until the dryness left her throat, for she would not let the fear consume her.
“May the ancient Gods protect us,” she said to Argon. “May the Gods protect us all?.”