As with any battle, there were losses. Though there were not as many, the main Street of Laanfier was lined with the bodies of soldiers and innocents who were caught in the midst of battle. Alana walked silently, Freddie and Chase following her on either side, their clothes stained with dirt and blood and their hair a matted mess.

Alana recognised her soldiers the moment she laid eyes on their bodies, though most had been mailed near beyond recognition. Some were those that had still been in training, and most had fought beside her during the War of the Fallen 500 years ago. One such soldier she recognised was Raevin, her son Sylos bent over her body, holding her as he cried.

Alana had to look away, for fear she would unwillingly let her unshed tears fall.

"Ala" Freddie spoke with gentleness as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I've lived for 600 years" she started, "and I still feel the need to cry when I see my people dead. It's a weakness I though I could overcome but-" "That does not matter, whether you have lived for six hundred years or a thousand; they are still your people. You should want to grieve" Chase said.

"I cannot grieve. Not here. My people look to me for strength, and if they see me weak..." Alana trails off, her head bowed.

"Princess" Sylos had stood, realising just now that Alana was there.

His voice shook as he said the word, but nonetheless greeted his future queen with a respectful bow.

Alana turned to him, managing with some trouble to keep her voice level, "I'm sorry for your mother Sylos. She was a fierce warrior, and we will all remember her as such"

Sylos released an uneven breath, his shoulders shaking and his head still bowed. Chase, feeling sympathetic, stalked over and hugged the in training warrior. Chase knew what it was like to lose a parent; both of his were killed during the War of the Fallen. Shocked, Sylos hesitantly returns the hug.

Alana, a sigh escaping her, looks up. She watches as the sun slowly descended and slightly disappeared behind the high ashy mountains. The warm near-end of summer winds picked up the small, loose strands of hair that framed her face. The stench of death invaded her nose, causing it to scrunch up in disgust.

Freddie tapped her shoulder, and said her name with an urgent undertone. She looked down at him with a worried expression. Freddie's looking off into the distance, his eyes focused on something, or rather, someone. Alana follows his gaze, and suddenly realises why he looks so...distraught.

It was Micah, Freddie's little brother, lying limp in the arms of a soldier.

Freddie held onto Alana as if willing himself not to overreact. Alana sighs; Freddie was always saying he wanted to be able to control his emotions like Alana, but he'd never been able to hide them well.

"Go to him" Alana whispers, "it's okay".

Freddie doesn't need to be told twice.

Freddie stumbles over his own feet only a couple of times as he rushed over, and he barely registers the soldier telling him that Micah was simply unconscious. Freddie held his brother close to his chest, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees the slightest twitch of Micah's hand. Freddie then locks eyes with Alana, nodding and smiling. Alana smiles back, thanking Mihaela that Micah was still alive.

With her hands clasped tightly behind her back, Alana makes her way through the main walkway. She greets those who had lost someone with empathetic words and a bow of respect. This was how she'd managed to hold herself together for so long. Karissa watched her daughter with a sad gaze; she knew Alana far too well. She knew that only behind closed doors is when her daughter would let loose her pent up emotions.

Either that, or she would build training dummies to bash and break, and come back sweaty and covered in dark red wood chips with bloodied knuckles from punching a few a little too hard.

Dark storm clouds rolled in from the far North then, a loud thunderclap alerting Alana to their presence. She looked and half wished the rain held within them would wash away her guilt and her grief, but rain would not wash them away; they would only cause a flood of emotions to rise within her

Without knowing, her feet lead her to the half destroyed tavern that Lazlo had built himself, and walked in. She glanced around, finding that the tavern was doubling as an infirmary for the injured. Outside, she could hear the crackling of fires as the people burned their dead, and in the far right corner of the room sat Lyria, Lazlo tending to her wounds.

It seemed she wasn't liking the way Lazlo was fussing over her, but the hint of a smile said otherwise.

A cold rush of air blew through the tavern then, some of the injured villagers turning their heads towards the door in disbelief. A loud crack of thunder sounded overhead, and then clouds poured rain down on Laanfier.

"It never rains like this here" she heard someone say with just a tinge of fear in their voice.

Alana was never one to be suspicious of something like rain, but that was the thing; Laanfier hadn't had a storm in hundreds of years. The last time it did, the second worst war broke out.

Alana's stare hardened as she glanced towards the broken door of the tavern; a storm like this was far from a good sign, and she prayed to Mihaela that nothing terrible would befall her world...

***

Wyntar watched over Daevina, watching her steady breathing and her eyes moving against her close eyelids. He watched over her as she begun to heal, and would wait until she woke up. Daevina had been Wyntar's silent protector since he was a child, as Tandour had been wary of hybrids like him for years before the new ruler took over.

She too, was a hybrid; possibly the oldest in Arraila, being half elemental dragon, half human. She was what they call the last dragonkin, and the most dangerous of any dragonkin recorded. It was rare to see her, and rarer to see her this injured.

Wyntar frowned, feeling a pang of worry for his old friend. Such a strong female being so easily injured...something terrible was happening, or some other evil thing was conjuring up something.

Wyntar turns to look into the fire, suddenly being thrust into the past, back to the Fall of Osoa; the worst war that had ever occured. He had been much younger then, though he had been an adult at that point. He remembered the fire that seemed to consume every inch of the world, and the darkness that caused it.

That darkness came in the form of Mikaelis, the God of the Underground.

He remembered Daevina, his parents and himself hiding in this very cave; and he knew this had been the exact cave because of the carving on the very back of the cave.

"You seem far away little one" Wyntar turns his head at the sound of Daevina's voice.

He doesn't mind her calling him 'little one', but Goddess forbid anyone else call him that.

"Just lost in memories Vina" Wyntar offers a strained smile; the smile of someone who doesn't smile often, of ever.

Daevina frowned at him as she slowly sat up, her eyes burning holes into Wyntar, "you've grown so cold, and so distant. The world has mistreated you far too much for far too long, it seems"

"It is fine Vina; we all grow cold the longer we are alone, however you are correct in saying the world has mistreated me" Wyntar turned away and glared at the fire.

"It will not be for much longer. You will gain your happiness" Daevina smiled.

Wyntar stayed glaring at the fire, the exposed faded scars illuminated by the firelight. As Daevina stared at him, she saw a broken warrior; broken by battle, and by past love. She sighed, her expression growing sombre.

"Our world is in danger. The Crows are already beginning to send a warning directly from Mikaelis. He will send those Crows, his soldiers, out into the world to wreak havoc beyond repair. He wants the world completely destroyed this time" Daevina turns to Wyntar, "but you will help slow him down"

"What!?" Wyntar turns to her, "how do you know-"

"Vivian Ràed has told me of a vision; a vision that a group of friends and strangers will aid in a quest to save Arraila from certain doom. The group will be led by the princess of Laanfier, Alana Flare" Daevina grinned, "do you know what they say of her? They say she is the second coming of the infamous Kahna Flare"

"Yes, I've heard the whispers, and I think they are absolute lies. A young princess cannot be that strong" Wyntar scoffed, "I already dislike her though I have not yet met her. She is no warrior; seems to me as if she flaunts her power"

"Then it will be good for you to meet her" Daevina glares at Wyntar, "because she is nothing like the way you have just described her"