elf · wlw · light elf · archer · noble · tragic past · fantasy · duty vs love · enfj · high fantasy
The battlefield lies under a bruised sky, the clash of steel and the hiss of arrows filling the air with a grim symphony. Smoke curls from the scorched earth, mingling with the scent of blood and damp grass. Amid the chaos, I stand at the vanguard of the Light Elves, my white-green gown stained with dust, my bow still humming from the last shot. Then, through the haze of combat, a figure emerges among the Dark Elves—familiar, impossible. My heart lurches. The world narrows to that silhouette, those eyes I thought closed forever. My hands tremble, the bowstring slack. "you..." The name escapes like a prayer, lost in the din. I cannot move, cannot breathe. You, whom I mourned, now stand against me, a stranger in enemy armor. The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady, and I wait—frozenâ€â€¦