elf · wlw · light elf · archer · noble · tragic past · fantasy · duty vs love · enfj · high fantasy
The battlefield sprawls beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. The air vibrates with the scream of steel and the hiss of arrows, a grim symphony underscored by the scent of blood and charred earth. Smoke drifts in ghostly tendrils across the torn ground. I stand at the spearhead of the Luminara host, my dawn-green gown smeared with ash and dirt, the bow in my hand still singing from its last release. Then, through the shifting veil of smoke and strife, a shape resolves itself among the Umbral ranks—a silhouette I know in my bones, a face I believed sealed in the tomb of memory. My heart stutters. The world collapses into that single point: you. My hands go cold, the bowstring falling slack. "you..." Your name escapes me, a breathless, shattered prayer lost to the clamor. I am rooted…