23^rd March, somewhere west of the of the Far West Island chain, 5:30 A.M.

A dark purple sky with a faint red tint, peppered with stars, illuminated the calm, blue waves. Under the alien, yet familiar sky sailed the largest carrier strike group the Indian Navy had ever sent out outside of military exercises. Centered around INS Vishal, the largest aircraft carrier in the Indian Navy, this strike force was on one mission: give the aliens of this world a taste of Indian hospitality, the kind of hospitality Indian parents are known to give out to unruly children.

On the decks of the Dweep class landing platform docks (LPD) of the strike group, activity was high. LCH Prachands and AH-64 Apaches of the IAF and the Army Aviation corps were being prepped for take-off; weapons were being loaded, fuel tanks were being filled, last minute maintenance checks were being performed, engines were being started. Alongside the attack helicopters, ALH Dhruvs and Rudras wearing the same green camo as the attack helicopters, were standing by. MLH Mayurs were being brought up on the deck, being prepared to be boarded by infantry, with crewmen inspecting equipment, loading and checking door guns, and guiding the helicopters to their required position on the deck.

The decks of the aircraft carriers weren’t any less busy. A large number of aircraft were in the air, some were performing combat air patrols (CAP), some were preparing to take off, while some were coming in to land. All the aircraft from the initial air assault had returned and had taken to the skies once again. The decks were lined up with Shershaahs, Kumbhirs, as crewmen worked on them, rearming, refuelling and performing checks.

As dawn inched closer, Prachands and Apaches began lining up, ready for take-off, rotors spinning at full throttle, their navigation lights illuminating their imposing silhouette against the dark purple-blue sky.

At the signal from the crew, the helicopters began lifting off, one by one starting from the from the helicopter closest to the bow of the ship. Flying in perfect coordination, they quickly turned east at full speed.

 The sky above them had slowly acquired a very faint red tint as the helicopters, painted in green camo and bearing the words “Indian Army” on the side, made their way to the east. In the lead helicopter was Warrant Officer Tushar Panchal and his gunner, Ensign Vipul Narayan.

The helicopters moved fast and low, close to the calm waves of the unfamiliar ocean below. In the lonely sky, the only thing reflecting off the surface of the water, apart from the new world’s moon and the stars, were the large formation of helicopters and their navigation lights.

“Hawk-1 to all, we have a visual on the coast line. Over.”

A voice came over on the comms, probably from one of the Apaches flying alongside Tushar’s helicopter. Tushar looked ahead, squinting his eyes at the dark silhouette approaching on the horizon. 

“Alright, Vipul, we’re getting close, get ready son.”

“Copy that sir.”, his gunner replied, his voice full vigour and excitement from his first real combat assignment.

“See anything on the FLIR?”

“Not yet, sir.”

Vipul replied as he tried fishing for black dots on the screen, moving the M621 autocannon around in search of targets.

“Sir! I got movement! Infantry, right on the beach! Lots of them sir! Possibly UBS-Alpha!”

Suddenly, Vipul’s excited voice came in. Finally, it was time for some action.

“This is Hawk-2, we’ve eyes on enemy infantry, moving in to engage. Over.”

“Hawk-1, eyes on, enemy infantry and some unmarked buildings, we’re breaking right, out.”

More transmissions came in from the helicopters as each of them broke formation and scattered in order to cover the maximum area and inflict the maximum damage. Each one of them had spotted the beach teeming with dark elves that had come out on the beach in an attempt to make some sense of the situation.

Tushar pulled up the helicopter in a slight climb as the gunner began preparations for engaging. The world outside the dark cockpit, illuminated by the glow of the avionics and the faint moonlight, grew more and more distant, the sea waves becoming less and less distinguishable.  

“Alright son, what have we got?”

Tushar asked his gunner as he cracked his knuckles. Finally, it was time he got into the action. After all, he wasn’t going to let the Naval Aviation boys have all the fun.

“Infantry on the beach, sir. More are pouring out of the buildings, it seems. All positively identified as UBS-Alpha types, most seem to be armed as well, sir.”

“Seem? Do you not have a clear visual on them?”

“I do sir, and that’s why I am saying they appear to be armed. They just happen to be armed with what looks like long sticks..? And some seem to be armed with, uhhhhmmmmm, is that a bow?”

“Bows and sticks? Really? Of all things?”

Tushar casually hummed for a moment, seemingly thinking about something.’

“So they weren’t actually joking, huh. These guys really are going against us using bows and swords, huh.”, Tushar chuckled. “Oye Vipul, what do you think their reaction will be when they see this bird for the first time?”

“They’ll probably be like ‘the heck is that, how is it even flying!’”

“Hahhaha! Make sure you give them a proper greeting., son.”

“The only greeting I can give is a cup of hot lead, sir!”, his gunner joked as the helicopter neared the beach. As they got closer, both had a clearer view of the beach.

“Damn, there are a LOT of them, sir. Did the navy guys not pound them hard enough?”

“Lack of intel can do that, son. No point in complaining now, we’ve got a target rich environment for ourselves at least.”

As the beach got closer, they got a clearer picture of their objective. They could see the entire length of the beach covered with black shapes moving around on the screen. Among the black shapes were many larger, white, cuboidal shapes, probably buildings. Many more black silhouettes could be seen popping out of the white buildings.

“Alright, Vipul we are clear to engage, you are free to open fire as you see fit.”, Tushar spoke as the helicopter levelled out, ready to unleash its payload.

“Copy that sir.”

The M621 autocannon turned towards the twelve o-clock, aiming right at the middle of the horde of unsuspecting dark elves. The dark elves on the other hand, had probably heard the mysterious chopping sound of helicopter blades, as the less panicking and more experienced senior officers and combat veterans among them had their heads turned towards the skies desperately to find the source of the noise.

Towards such helpless targets, the Prachand lined up for the first gun run. The gunner singled out his targets, directing the autocannon towards it using his helmet mounted display as the helicopter sped forward.

The helicopter was now within visual range of the dark elves, appearing just above the horizon as a small, strange looking dot. Several of the dark elves had their heads turned west, towards the unfamiliar chopping noise of the rotor blades.

“3,2,1…..engaging! Engaging!”, Vipul shouted as he let lose a five-round burst from the autocannon.

20mm tracers lit up the sky, tearing at extremely high speeds towards their targets. For a brief moment, the sky around the area was lit up by the tracer’s illumination, momentarily revealing the dark elves the identity of their predator.

Impact. The 20mm rounds tore through the large crowds of dark elves, completely disintegrating bodies and splattering their insides on everyone around. Every dark elf that the round passed through was completely wiped out of existence, reduced to a very thin red paste. The only trace of their existence that remained at most was one or two hands or fingers that had managed to stay intact despite the hit, and had been flung away many meters up in the air.

The crowd of armed elves became hysterical. They began panicking, pushing each other around, trying to escape, and falling over. The lower ranked, less experienced had completely lost it, their minds only filled with thoughts of escape.

Most, however, weren’t like that. Many of the dark elves here were fanatics, basing their entire life and existence around their hatred for humans and everything that wasn’t an elf, and their belief of elven superiority. This didn’t change here either, or rather it became even worse. Many of the dark elves’ superior officers, clad in full armour with their fancy, ornamented swords and magic staffs, immediately stepped forward, their weapons pointed at the unknown enemy.

One of them, probably a high-ranking officer, wearing a lavish purple and white coat, shouted to the panicking crowd of soldiers. A group of wizards around him began charging their magic up as he climbed on top of some wooden boxes and pointed towards the sky.

“Lads, do not let fear take hold of you! Charge these unholy demon--”

 The officer never completed his words. A stream of bright red tracers drilled right through the group, blowing up a large cloud of red mist, tiny flesh fragments, debris and dirt.

The crowd went into complete chaos. Everyone was doing their own thing now. The frightened and traumatised ones ran for their lives, dropping their swords, bows, staffs. The fanatics stayed back, charging their magic up, laughing maniacally, only to get turned into human chutney. The ground was littered with completely decimated elf corpses, large puddles of thick blood, debris and dirt from all the destroyed swords and weapons that had been in the hands of diseased elves when they were hit. Some tried hiding in the narrow spaces between buildings and some under heaps of cloth or under bushes alongside the dirt paths that went through the base on the edge of the beach, praying that the strange beasts don’t see them. They were all cut down by one or two round, carefully-placed 20mm bursts. Here and there was a long pole holding the Feplarian flag, now stripped of its glory and pride, being trampled into the dirt by elves escaping for their lives.

To the elves, this was simply unbelievable. They were supposed to be the ones stomping others out in style. They were the ones supposed to be making others panic and run for their lives, not the other way around. They were the one supposed to be eradicating the world of filthy humans. All this time, they had been the ones rolling through the battlefield, unstoppable and undefeatable. Yet now, they were the ones running for their lives, from an enemy they knew nothing about, from an attack they knew nothing about. Maybe their complacency and relaxation had cost them, maybe that was the real reason why they were losing, maybe not. No one knew. The ones that were capable of answering this question had long been gone, eliminated or disabled. Now the inexperienced and panicking recruits were left on their own, without any commanding authority or anyone with enough capability to lead them in such a situation. And they had to fend off against an unknown form of enemy, one they had never seen before, one they couldn’t see now either.

Some elves separated from the crowd, dropping all their gear and running straight for the warehouses and buildings. There number one concern wasn’t survival, it was about losing their favourite slave, or their stash of loot they had quietly accumulated over a long time. Some of these didn’t make it far before getting consumed by the barrage of tracers, while some narrowly managed to survive by diving in the doorway at the last moment. These were the luckier ones, for the helicopters weren’t interested in targeting buildings. Those were someone else’s prey.

Up in the air, Hawk-2’s pilot Tushar gazed at the carnage below from the glass cockpit as his gunner let out controlled bursts of lead, showing the result of his thorough training. Truthfully, he wasn’t that disturbed by the scene unfolding below. He had seen action in peace keeping missions in Africa and in counter insurgency operations in Kashmir, so this kind of gory scene wasn’t new to him. Though he couldn’t say he was entirely undisturbed by it. This was overkill, excessive. The enemy they were fighting against was completely helpless against them. This wasn’t even a battle, it was a one-sided massacre. There was no fight here, at best just a twisted training exercise for pilots, at worst a very bad horror show.

Well, not that he cared. It wasn’t his job to decide whether eliminating his targets was a morally correct decision or not. His job was providing air support, and he was going to do that very well, just like he had always done. Because the alternative would mean delivering the news of a fellow soldier’s death to his mother, something that no matter how much he did, he could never get used to.

“Good effects on the target, Vipul. Keep ‘em coming, son.”

“…..Affirmative, sir.”, Vipul replied after a moment, his voice now solemn, devoid of all the excitement it had before.

Tushar stayed silent. Vipul continued pounding his targets as the helicopter continued heading further inland, above the base that they were hitting.

After a while, Tushar spoke up.

“Son, how’s things with your new girlfriend? You got married to her recently, didn’t you?”

“…..Things are going fine, sir. Still as sweet as she was before marriage, and just as silly and shy as back then. Still has no idea how to cook roti, sir.”

Vipul replied with a dry laugh.

“Hahah, good to be young, huh. Back in my day my wife was entirely opposite, everyone used to call her ‘hitler of the house’. They still do. Though I am not even that old, now that I think about it.”

Tushar replied jovially, his voice filled with enthusiasm seemingly untouched by the massacre unfolding below.

“Vipul.”

“Yessir?”

Tushar spoke, his tone now changed completely all of a sudden, his casual mood replaced by a serious, commanding tone.

“You saw them on the news and in the briefing, right? The ones that called themselves elves, the ones you are killing right now.”

“…yes sir, I did.”

“You remember what they said, don’t you? Of the things they did. Of the things they WOULD do?”

Vipul didn’t reply, his face hidden from the pilot’s view. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Think of the one person you cherish the most, son. Now think of what would happen if these fuckers were allowed to have their way.”

Vipul didn’t say anything, but Tushar knew exactly what was going in his mind. Tushar continued.

“These people have done those disturbing things to millions of others, and they would continue to do so. Think of the worst nightmare you could have, the one where these fuckers get their hands on your loved one, and you are unable to do anything but watch. Now think of all those who had to live that nightmare in real life, right in front of their eyes.”

Vipul still didn’t say anything, but Tushar knew very well that his facial expression was changing. He had spent a long enough time with this guy to know such things instinctively, without even seeing directly.

For a brief moment, the firing had stopped. The M621 cannon had halted spraying out lead as the helicopter passed over the base’s buildings and garrisons, which had been reduced to a burning mess due to the airstrike previously.

“Those people, just like you, had the same thoughts, yet they could do nothing. You son, are different. You have the privilege of doing something, something to calm those anguishing souls and deliver justice.”

Tushar continued, delivering the final blow.

“Killing them is not an act of violence, it’s an act of mercy, Vipul. Remember, our scriptures always say to be kind and have mercy on others, right? So it is YOUR duty now to deliver that mercy, son. Will you step back from it?”

“No sir!”

Vipul replied, his voice now filled with rage and energy.

“That’s the spirit, son! I don’t want the gun on this bad boy to go silent! Keep them coming!”

“Yes sir!”

Vipul replied loudly as the M621 roared again, pumping rounds into the helpless dark elves below. From the cockpit, the humming of the helicopter waned slightly as the loud thumping sound of the autocannon resounded.

“Alright, this is Hawk-2, we’re going around for a second run.”

Tushar spoke on the comms as the Prachand banked right, turning around for a second run as he peeked out from the cockpit to see the situation.  

The beach was quite different from what it had been before. There was still a sizable quantity of dark elves there, though most seemed to have been completely lost their bearings, or had been wounded and were unable to move. As for the base further inside, it was slightly better. Many that had taken cover behind bushes or structures or inside buildings had come out, and were now seen trying to cast magic again at whatever had hit them. Some were already shooting magic, and occasionally, a small, comparatively dull and slower streak of light of varying colours could be seen shooting up from the ground into the sky. Some of these elves had been noticed by the Indians, and occasionally, a burst of 30mm rounds from the Apaches or 20mm bursts from other Prachands would be seen racing towards the origin of these magic attacks.

Tushar spotted a sizable crowd of elves near the burned remains of what must have been a rather large and important building near the centre of the base. The elves seemed to have seen the helicopter above them, and were preparing their magic staves and wands hastily. Some of them looked more experienced, and were seen wearing what Tushar could only describe as oversized robes and were floating in the air. They seemed to be casting much more powerful magic, as seen visually as well on the IR sensors.

None of them seemed to be able to comprehend the unknown monsters in the air, except that it could fly uncomfortably fast and things had the tendency to explode when it was around. Everyone was exhausted, no one had the mental power needed to spend time trying to comprehend the organisms.

Tushar lined up the helicopter with the crowd, its nose facing slightly down. On his HUD, the mob of elves was directly in the centre, as the helicopter came in fast.

“Rockets out!” Tushar gave the callout out as 70mm unguided rockets streamed out of the rocket pods on the either side of the helicopter, leaving a trail of smoke tracing their path.

The elves had no time to react before the rockets hit them, putting up small balls of orange-yellow light that were quickly shrouded by a curtain of dirt and smoke thrown up in the air. As the helicopter passed above, Tushar peeked out to assess the result of the attack run.

The area was hidden completely by smoke, but in between Tushar could catch a glimpse of bodies and limbs lying motionless on the ground.

Just then, a transmission came in over the comms.

“Overlord to all air units, be advised, we have ground forces coming in from the east, I repeat, we have ground units coming in from the East, E.T.A 60 seconds, over.”

Tushar gazed outside, towards his right. In the distance he could barely make out a large number of dots, steadily enlarging and becoming clearer every moment.

“Vipul, how much ammo does the gun have?”, Tushar turned his head towards his gunner, as he turned the helicopter around.

“We’re good sir, we have a lot of lead to pump before we need to RTB.”, his gunner replied, taking his hands off the stick and running his fingers on the small screens in front of him.

“Good, the boys are gonna need it.”

 

[------LineBreak------]

 

Klaern fell face first in the dirt as he ran hastily, tripping over a tree branch that had fallen over. His clothes were completely dishevelled, covered in dirt and sand. All the grace and dignity that was once associated with the Dark Elf officer was gone. All that remained was a dirty, haggard elf, with nothing but a singular goal in mind.

Klaern put all his strength in his limbs, and pulled himself up. His arms and legs were sore and his muscles felt like burning from the intense exercise that he wasn’t accustomed to. All over his skin, he could also sometimes feel a burning pain, yet he had no time to sit down and examine his body for injuries. He had to save someone, and he had to be quick.

He wasn’t someone on a very distinguished position in pretty much any sphere of Feplarian society. Born as the sixth son of an aristocrat, there wasn’t much that was for him as compared to his siblings. So he found himself in the Feplarian armed forces as an officer, joining as a young rebellious lad in search of some glory and some fame. His job took him various places, across the various theatres of war his country stepped in, until he found himself posted here, in the Far West island chain.

Because of how often Feplaria was engaged in war, “consumables” looted from other smaller states were quite prevalent, and even in the island, everyone from the high ranking officers to the lowly workers and helpers had access to abundant supplies of sex slaves and alcohol. Brothels operating using the slaves were doing well, and since the regulations regarding the loot were lax due to the high supply rates and a little corruption, getting a particular slave reserved was quite common. In fact, officers taking one or more slaves to their personal quarters exclusively for themselves was a common sight, something that no one really objected to.

Klaern too, had been tempted to try this once, and since he wasn’t a fan of the atmosphere brothels had, he decided he would just get a slave instead. Worrying about returning the slave or getting rid of it in case it didn’t go well wasn’t an issue, since the brothel usually took care of that.

He remembered the first time he saw the slave. A woman, rather fair and with blond hair, wearing a rather revealing outfit, which he couldn’t even call an outfit considering how it pretty much exposed every part of the body, with her hands chained together and with a thick, metal collar around her neck. Her eyes seemed dead and motionless, and her body seemed limp to Klaern as he carried her in his arms and moved her to his bed. The only sign that indicated she was alive was how she obeyed every command he gave her with a dead expression.

Klaern remembered how he was slowly removing her clothes when suddenly, he heard a voice. A small, frail, weak, feminine voice.

“…w-water….”

Klaern stopped. It was from the girl in front of him. Her mouth was half open in a daze, repeating the same word again and again in a voice that was getting weaker by the moment.

He stayed unmoving for a moment, then turned around and reached for a jug of water. Pouring out water in a small cup, he slowly brought it to her lips after carefully making her sit upright on his bed. The water slowly trickled down her throat, with some of it trickling outside her lips down her chin.

Klaern kept the cup away, sitting down near her on the bed. In his mind, he couldn’t comprehend his actions rationally. She was a human slave, and as a human, she deserved the misery she was suffering from. That was supposed to be her fate under the Dark Elves, and yet he went out of his way to quench her thirst, to show mercy to her. Klaern looked at the girl. She looked tired and dead as before, yet it seemed a small sliver of life had returned to her.

Seeing the girl like that, he felt something from inside him. He picked up the limp and weak body of the girl, laid her out on his bed and cast some healing magic. The magic seemed to work, and the girl’s eyes closed, her rhythmically rising and sinking chest told him she was still breathing.

Klaern felt a mix of emotions. Not able to tolerate the turmoil inside his head, he put on his shirt and went outside, to sort out his emotions in peace. His rational mind repeatedly barraged him with questions as to why he helped the girl and showed ‘mercy’ to her, yet he couldn’t come with answers, no matter how hard he tried.

Klaern went inside, tired and exhausted. There was no point in thinking too hard about something like this, better get sleep instead, he thought. Entering his bedroom, he found the girl lying on his bed the same way he left her, except now her eyes were open.

Klaern silently got on the opposite side of the bed, not saying a word. In the room doused with the soft bluish-white glow from the moonlight, he was alone with the slave. His head revolved around the same things again and again, preventing his eyes from shutting down.

“……What’s your name?”, he asked a question directed towards the slave girl, in an effort to ward off his inability to sleep. To be honest, he wasn’t really expecting an answer. No one really asked the slaves their names since they were irrelevant, once captured their identity didn’t mean anything more than a number, a mere tag that established their position as a commodity to be sold and used.

“……..Cole”, the slave girl replied after a few moments of silence.

Klaern didn’t say anything for a while, then spoke.

“……what country did you come from before ending up here?”

“…don’t remember.”, the girl replied weakly.

“I see.” Klaern replied. Truthfully, he had been randomly firing whatever question came to his mind to pass the time until sleep enveloped him.

Now, as Klaern ran through the dirt, he reminisced about that time. He found it fascinating how time had passed quickly. He remembered those times vividly, how he felt every time he saw the slave girl, and despite the protests of his rational mind, he always cared for her, giving her a share of his own food, or giving her his own clothes to wear, taking care of her when she fell sick, or tucking her in his own bed in the cold.

With time, she had changed. Life had slowly returned to her eyes, her face had become brighter than it was, and she had become capable of speaking and smiling like a normal person again. Klaern still remembered the day he came back home and saw Cole greet him with a smile he had never seen before. For the first time that day, his life felt slightly brighter, his mind quiet, not barraging him with rational questions anymore.

Maybe this was it, he thought to himself that day. Maybe this was the reason why he did all those things that he found senseless. Maybe, they weren’t so senseless after all.

Needless to say, all of this was confined inside his quarters after all. Letting others see the way a human slave was being treated was without a doubt, something he could not allow to happen at any cost. No matter how hard his mind shouted at him to ‘show the human her place’, his hands moved automatically to take care of her, to relieve her of whatever pain he saw her in, to protect her. His life had now acquired a real purpose, and it occasionally led him to clashing with others. Once he had beat up a drunk elf officer who had been trying to force his way in his quarters because he wanted to see what ‘gold he was hiding in his bedroom’. Needless to say, the incident got a little commotion for him. Yet he didn’t feel bad. For the first time in his life, he had started feeling fulfilled and content with life.

Klaern had a wife, but it wasn’t really what one could call a happy marriage. His marriage had been purely for political reasons, reasons that were outside his understanding and were the decisions made by his father while he was away at war. As a consequence, all the politics involved in the matchmaking had made their way in his personal life, and soon his wife was caught in some sort of power struggle and drama that he to this day, never managed to fully comprehend. As a result of that drama, his wife ended up leaving him, further causing a lot of commotion that at one point, even caught the attention of the Queen herself.

Here however, was something different. Here was something to live for, something that made him feel lucky for waking up every day. A certain person, a certain soul, a certain face. One that made him realize that maybe, life wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

And one day, he finally took his relationship with her forward. As the two intertwined bodies and souls together, caressing each other’s lonely hearts, Klaern finally realized why he did all the things he had done for her despite his rational mind’s protests. That night, he hugged his sex slave for the first time since ‘acquiring’ her, and not as a sex slave.

However, things weren’t going to be always rosy. Now, Klaern found himself running at full speed, exerting whatever energy his body had to reach her. His mind was only occupied by her, the one person in his life who give him some meaning to live for. Losing her meant losing himself.

Klaern had woken up to loud earth-shaking noises outside, right in the middle of the night. As others ran out of their cozy beds to investigate, he stayed back as Cole clung to him, comforting her.

“Stay here, okay? If you feel afraid, hide under the tables or something sturdy.”, Klaern soothed her as he prepared to go outside and check for himself, caressing her cheeks and running his fingers through her hair.

“…o-okay”, she replied, her voice full of nervousness.

Klaern had never imagined what awaited him outside as he stepped outside. The death, destruction, carnage. The strange-sounding, out-of-place thunder in the sky, the mysterious hunting down of the wywerns, and then the weird-looking………beasts that were raining an unknown form of magic on everyone on the beach. He saw his fellow elf officers and soldiers explode and die in gruesome ways, ways he hadn’t even ever imagined in the wildest of his dreams, or nightmares.

He didn’t care anymore about anything, he only had one thing in mind. There was someone who needed him the most. His heart ached thinking about how she would be, afraid and alone in the house.

Finally, he arrived at his quarters. The area outside looked deserted, and seemed completely unchanged from when he left. The only difference was how the air was now filled with the sound of sharper and louder, bone-chilling explosions and an orchestra of unfamiliar chopping noises all around in the sky.

Klaern barged through the front door, hoping that maybe she was alright, untouched by the horror outside, hiding under a table or in a closet.

“COLE!! COLE!!!!”, he shouted as loud he could, as loud as his tired and sore lungs could make his voice.

As he entered the dining area, he saw something dark under the table. He stooped low to check it, yanking one of the chairs away.

“COLE!”, he cried as he hugged the figure of his beloved trembling in the dark. His mind was occupied with her condition, of how he felt sorry for leaving her here in the dark, alone and cold, as well as relief that she was alright.

“..w-w-what is happening o-o-outside…?” Cole asked timidly as he hugged her.

“….just a little bad weather, okay? Just hold on to me and listen to everything I say, okay?”, he replied as he grabbed his sword with one hand while holding her small body close to him with the other.

Klaern quickly made his way outside the quarters. His topmost priority now was to protect himself and his slave wife. The fate of the Feplarian Navy didn’t mean anything to him now. Right now his goal was to head somewhere far away from the carnage, and maybe find a boat or something to leave the island with.

However, no sooner had he stepped outside than his legs gave away. The fatigue had caught up to him and was proving impossible to move now.

He turned his head towards Cole, still hugging him closely as he was collapsed on the ground and panicking at his sudden collapse. He smiled and hugged her tightly, wrapping her around in warmth to give her whatever comfort he could.

Suddenly, he heard a very loud, distinct chopping noise. He turned his head forward, and he froze.

Right in front of him, just above the treeline, was a beast. The same beast that had hit the beach he was on just a short while ago. The distinct chopping noise and a strange kind of humming noise that the beast made, were the only thing he could hear. To him, they were deafening.

The creatures were such that he couldn’t describe them. The only clue was that they flew and they probably used some magic, that was all he could tell. Above the beasts was what looked like a very large disc, spinning around. Its body was something completely unlike anything he had seen, and his mind registered it as resembling fish more than any flying beast he had known. The body of the beast was covered in strange and unidentifiable shapes and objects, the utility of which he could not discern.

As he stayed frozen in place, the beast approached his position, slowly, until it was in full view. Klaern could see that the beast was covered in even more stranger markings and symbols, some comprehensible and some completely alien. Klaern could see something written on the tail of the unknown animal. Illuminated by the steadily dimming moonlight, the text on the tail read: “Indian Army” in block letters.

Klaern stayed motionless, tightening his arms around Cole. This was it, he thought. Maybe the beast would kill only him and leave Cole alive, he thought, rather he prayed.

The beast came in front of him, then stopped, hovering right above him.  Klaern could now see just how truly large the beast was, as sand and dirt flew all around him in a strong vortex. As he covered his eyes with one hand while holding on to Cole tightly with other, he saw the beast looking at him.

The beast had something poking underneath it. Something black, something long, something moving. Klaern couldn’t really tell what it was since he couldn’t look properly due to all the dirt flying around him, but he instinctively felt a chill when he saw it. That has to be the eyes of the beast, looking coldly down at him and all the other dark elves, he felt.

Maybe this was punishment for all the sins he and his fellow elves did, he thought. Maybe, they were now atoning for all the bloodshed, all the anguish, all the pain they inflicted upon their enemies. Maybe, they deserved this.

Klaern closed his eyes, waiting for the beast to deliver judgement. His only regret was not being able to live long enough to see Cole and her smile. Maybe, he wished, maybe he could be born again and start life again without regrets this time.

One moment, two moments. Nothing happened. Klaern opened his eyes to see the beast still there. There was still dirt flying around wildly. The beast’s eyes were locked on Klaern, unmoving, motionless, its large figure in the sky seeming imposing. Almost as if judging.

As Klaern began to wonder why the beast hadn’t killed them, the beast’s eyes turned somewhere else, and the beast turned slowly turned away, its chopping noise fading into the distance as it left the area for other targets. The violent vortex of wind died down, and once again, the area was engulfed in silence, save for the sound of destruction in the background, just like it had been when he came back to take Cole.