Fairy Wars: The Final Battles: Fairy Wars

By L.L. Bower

If you like epic quests, strange creatures like bogles and tomtes and magical powers, you'll love this conclusion to the Fairy Wars trilogy. Like Fablehaven, Fairy Wars takes you into a world parallel to ours which most humans cannot see.  Sword fights, dragon battles, wizard duels and an age-old war are all a part of the action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.L. Bower
• Release date: May 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780197430675

L.L. Bower

After two careers, one in business and one in academia, Laurel retired from teaching college literature, humanities and writing in 2015 to pursue her lifelong passion for writing. While she's been published in other genres, fantasy has always been her favorite. She wanted to write the kind of fantasy she likes to read, with twists and turns and lots of quirky, mythological characters and amazing magic. Fairy Wars: The First Battles (A Prequel) joins the Fairy Wars trilogy (Book 1: The Dark Ones, Book 2: Spies Among Us and Book 3: Fairy Wars: The Final Battles). L.L. Bower has two grown children and four grandchildren. She and her husband Steve live in Meridian, Idaho with a cinnamon miniature named Winnie the “poo”dle.

Book preview

Prologue

M agic’s power is at the core of Fairyland’s history, and the Creator, who made us and sustains us, is the source of all good magic. Whatever good I’ve accomplished in my centuries of existence is a direct result of divine intervention and direction.

Her Highness, Crisa of Venesia, daughter of the great sorceress Circe and the hero Hercules

Fairyland’s Cast of Characters from Books 1 & 2 (in order of importance):

The Creator – Fairyland’s deity, source of good magic

Natas – once the Creator’s right hand, rebelled against him, now the source of all evil magic

The Dark Ones – evil numinals in the centuries-old war waged in Fairyland – includes trolls, ogres, minotaurs, imps, gryphons, some dragons, gremlins, goblins, bogles, sirens, the sandman, behemoths, leviathans and bugbears

The Light Ones – good numinals in Fairyland – Calen taught them how to fight in Book 1, mostly smaller (except dragons and giants), pacifistic and kind-hearted – includes gnomes (ground gnomes work with metal – garden gnomes work the soil), fairies, grigs, tomtes, mermen, unicorns, nymphs (naiads, oreads, dryads, storm vilia), pixies, fauns, centaurs, satyrs, leprechauns, brownies, giants (frost, fire and earth), some dragons

Calen – (human) Fairyland’s champion, 6-foot, 6-inches tall, 185 pounds, 25-years old (just had a birthday) – given special sight by accidentally stepping on Prince Enlil (a royal fairy). He sees all numinals (supernatural creatures) in Fairyland, and his champion’s power is weather

Crisa – good sorceress with immense magic, immortal, a shapeshifter

Delbo – evil sorcerer, Galdo’s father, killed by Simean in the Seven-Year War

Noblesse – one of Calen’s super-sharp, sentient swords, embellished with gems, fairies, flowers, a sun and a moon that keep time with the cycles of the earth – feminine in nature

Nobliege – Calen’s other sentient sword, not as highly decorated as Noblesse, but equally as sharp – male in nature

Galdo – evil sorcerer, son of Delbo, magic powers neutralized by Crisa in Book 2

Grog – a bugbear (huge, furry and usually a dark creature, although he’s turned to the light) rescued from a bear trap by Calen, now obligated under bugbear law to be Calen’s bodyguard – left to care for Crisa’s cave compound deep inside Mount Morphus – behaving strangely lately

Jade – green dragon that Calen hatched from an egg

Aepal – Jade’s brother, another green dragon (Book 2)

Rampart/Charles – werewolf, replaced Brutus (aka Bastion) as Calen’s protector, he’s Brutus’s nephew, can sense dark creatures and communicate telepathically with other wolves (Book 2)

Pholas and Chearon – two centaur warriors, trained Calen to be a champion – Calen lived with them in their village of Equis after he was transformed into a centaur

Breeds of Dragons – five breeds of dragons, and each kind denotes its weaponry – black (secretes necrotizing goo), purple (emits electricity), red (breathes fire), green (spits acid), blue (freezes with saliva)

Leo – mysterious stranger, appeared at Calen and Crisa’s campfire one night, disappeared just as mysteriously (Book 2)

Geryen – frost giant, escaped with Calen from prison, helped him fight bats in Book 2

Mordea, Olea, and Tumea – three tomtes, or shapeshifters, escaped from prison with Calen, Olea died in Book 2 trying to betray Calen and his friends

Simean – human champion, before Calen’s time, fought in the Seven-Year War, defeated the chimera and behemoth, banished to limbo by Delbo – captured by Galdo and kept prisoner for over a year, his champion’s power is telepathy with animals

Baru and Claymont – two blue mermen, escaped with Calen from prison

Caroom and Lawra – two oreads, can move rock, escaped from prison with Calen

Esmeralda – (Esme) Crisa’s cat, turned into a woman from time to time (Books 1 & 2)

King Aubrey, Prince Enlil, Princess Starla – Fairyland’s royal family – King Aubrey sent Calen on the quest for the balance stones (Book 2), Prince Enlil, the source of Calen’s special sight and his supernatural gifts, Princess Starla made Simean into a champion

Hummingbird Messengers – Berri (Book 2), Flit (Books 2 & 3), Ruby (Books 2 & 3), Singh (Book 1), Tener (Book 1) – hummingbird messengers

Zamir – posed as Burt’s/Brutus’s owner – a light-side sorcerer (Book 1)

Bartlett and Brambel – Two garden gnomes, redesigned Calen’s backyard, taught him about Fairyland – Brambel was Galdo’s prisoner, the subject of evil experiments (Book 1)

Burt/Brutus/Bastion – (from Books 1 & 2) Calen’s German shepherd, actually a werewolf, died by Galdo’s hand, trained his nephew, Rampart

Henson – werewolf leader (Book 1)

Loudon – goblin spy, lab attendant in Galdo’s prison, found Calen’s sword (Book 1)

Winston, Pycliffe and Harmin –gnomes imprisoned next to Calen – Winston, Galdo’s spy, alone survived (Book 1)

General Barambula – ground gnome, commanding officer of the United Gnome Federation, son of Calinula, and great great-grandson of Fabricula, the First Forger (Book 1)

General Warrin – four-star general in the 6th Infantry of the fairy king’s soldier squadron (Book 1)

Glenwith – fairy, Calen saved his life, directed Calen to leprechaun gold (Book 1)

Gambole – Calen’s college friend and fishing buddy (Book 1)

Sentinel – Crisa’s supernatural door guard, pulverized by Galdo’s guards (Book 1)

Maldina – ferocious black dragon, light-side ally, pretended to die from Calen’s attack (Book 2)

Berb – Grog’s cousin, also a light-side ally (Book 2)

Ed – a unicorn gifted to Grog (Book 1)

Cassie – Calen’s now-deceased sister

Plus new dark- and light-side beings featured in this book.

Chapter 1 – Calen’s Quest

The rope, wet with dew, slips a little in my gloved hands. I choke off a cry.

I swallow hard but continue my climb down the side of Mount Halston, wherein lies Craghollow, a beautiful fairy village. Its location has been a well-kept secret up to now because the fairy king Aubrey resides there. Recently, however, a dark creature—a raven—infiltrated and then escaped the mountain, threatening Craghollow’s anonymity.

For those who haven’t met me, I’m Calen Bartholomew Ambrose, an ordinary clock repairman and an avid fisherman. That is I was, until I accidentally stepped on a fairy prince, the king’s son Enlil. His royal touch gave me special sight to view Fairyland, a world hidden from other humans and chock-full of incredible magical powers and strange light and dark creatures called numinals.

Contact with the fairy prince bestowed unbelievable gifts upon me—heightened senses, longevity, miraculous healing abilities and weather control. I’m also nearly impossible to kill. Only someone wielding a silver weapon can do me in—and only if that weapon pierces my heart.

Along with these gifts came an unsolicited role—Fairyland’s human champion. Up to now, my mission as champion has been to rally the light troops and lead them to victory in an age-old war between good and evil. But, after my meeting with King Aubrey, I now have a new purpose.

I’m not the first champion, but I might be the last. But only if I can complete the king’s quest. Which is why I’m hanging from this mountainside.

More about that later.

As I descend, my fairy-augmented hearing amplifies the creak of

my lightweight armor, which was easier to wear than carry, minus my helmet. I also hear the squeak of my sticky-soled climbing shoes against the rock wall. I even detect the rope’s brush against the stone.

Despite my special abilities, my fear of the cliff in front of me makes my heart thump and my forehead sweat. Before the trickling perspiration can reach my eyes, I let go of the rope with one hand to wipe my brow with the back of my glove.

Ahhhh, I groan when my other bicep spasms, probably from a surge of adrenaline. I desperately grab the rope again with my other hand. But I don’t look down.

I don’t look up either as I hear rock scrape across rock. The rumbling sound reverberates across the canyon walls and makes my teeth rattle. Above me, the large stone doors to the village must be closing. Yet my focus never waivers from the rock’s pitted face. Even when those doors slam shut with an earth-shaking boom.

The cliff vibrates. My rope quivers. I can’t help but shake.

Okay, imagine yourself in my shoes. You’ve carved out a good life in the middle of a forest. You’ve got friends, a home-based business, and enough free time to fish and enjoy nature. A quiet existence, a bit boring maybe, but nicely predictable. And then, all of a sudden, you can see fairies, but not just fairies—ogres, and goblins and trolls, oh my!

Wouldn’t you rebel at this new role that’s been thrust upon you? Wouldn’t you want your life to remain just as it was? Well, that was me, at first. But, as more and more light creatures became my new friends, I learned of the depths of oppression they’ve suffered at the hands of the dark ones. So I’m now invested in helping them win this war. Even though, in my heart of hearts, I hate war.

Oh, yeah, and then the Creator, Fairyland’s deity, showed me how, throughout history, Fairyland’s circumstances have influenced and

paralleled the human world. When they’re at war, we are too. When despots threaten both worlds, the Creator provides a human champion with extraordinary powers and a unique perspective. In the past, Fairyland’s champion has helped tip the balance of power to the light side and brought peace to both humans and numinals.

My left foot slips on the mist-covered cliff, and the beat of my heart knocks in my ears. I grab the rope tighter and regain my balance. My fingers ache.

Don’t let me fall, I mentally plead with the Creator. Then I lean back. I will the still-slick rope to slide, inch by inch, through clenched gloves.

To slow my racing pulse, I take deep breaths. Solid ground must be close now, but what that ground holds frightens me more than this descent. What nightmarish monsters and unknown enemies pace and prowl at the base of this mountain, eager for a chunk of my flesh?

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Together with Crisa , a sorceress, and Rampart/Charles, my werewolf guardian, I’ve lived in Craghollow for the past two weeks. Under the fairies’ care, I’ve stuffed my champion’s role into my back pocket and taken a mental and physical break. I’ve rested, eaten well and exercised every day, gaining bulk and strength.

I’m almost back to my robust self. That is, the champion I was before Galdo, an evil magician, imprisoned and starved me for several weeks. Judging from how tired I already am, however, I’m not fully recovered. The weight of being champion again rests heavily upon my shoulders.

You’re probably wondering, if it was so restful inside the

mountain, why dangle outside it?

First of all, King Aubrey received a horrible prophecy from the Creator. Even though war has ravaged Fairyland for most of its history, the dark side now plans to extinguish all light beings from their world. And, according to the Creator, the darklings will succeed, if I, yes little ole me, can’t stop them.

How will they accomplish this genocide? By using the lowest of the low in dark-creature ranks—goblins. They’re the perfect choice for anything sinister because they hunger voraciously for power and status.

Recently, a horde of them attacked gnome and pixie villages and killed infants and children in their beds. I was puzzled and outraged as to why they’d commit such horrible acts, heinous even for them.

Then it dawned on me. Those homicidal goblins are turning themselves into invincible bogles, wraithlike alphas of the dark side. Formed when fairies or goblins (who were once fairies) destroy innocents (like children), bogles are nearly impossible to kill. The only creature who can kill them is a wolf or werewolf, who has to be in the right place, at the right time.

And of course wolves can’t be everywhere at once. Given the goblins’ craving for power, they’ll continue such atrocities, becoming bloodthirsty bogles, until Galdo amasses an unstoppable army. Then I have little doubt the dark side will annihilate all good folk from Fairyland. I shudder to think how that will affect the human world.

To stop further bogle-making attacks, my fellow escapees from Galdo’s prison—a giant, two mermen, two oreads and a couple of tomtes—plan to recruit others to attack every goblin settlement the hummingbird scouts can find. The only goblins spared will be those few who’ve become our light-side allies and who know a secret signal.

I pray my friends are successful. Even if they are, I’m not sure

that’ll change the war’s outcome because the Creator didn’t offer other scenarios, except future genocide.

A shadow passes over the morning sun. I crane my neck up, worried about my visibility and vulnerability. I’m easy pickings for bogles. I breathe easier when I see that the dimming stems from an actual cloud. Still I accelerate my descent.

So, you ask, why am I the only one who can stop this long-standing war?

According to King Aubrey, the first Fairyland monarch established an insurance policy centuries ago against the dark side ever attaining absolute power. He hid four balance stones, two black and two white, somewhere in the realm. The king has asked me to find these pebbles.

Like every champion before me, my sentient swords, Noblesse and her male counterpart, Nobliege, were manufactured by ground gnomes—Fairyland’s metal workers—and imbued with magic. And like every other champion, my swords were fashioned with stone-sized recesses on their hilts...just in case.

Because it’s morning, I know, without looking, that directly below the balance-stone depression, Noblesse’s yellowish sun is alight on one side of her hilt. The accompanying pearlescent dancing fairies and colorful open flowers are also active. At night, the sun darkens, and the bluish moon on her other side brightens. Then the fairies go to sleep, as do the flowers. Although not as ornate, Nobliege’s hilt has magically engraved vines and leaves that sway, without any breeze.

Somehow the stones’ placement into my magic weapons will neutralize the dark side. At least, that’s what the king believes. I have my doubts. In my months of fighting for Fairyland, I’ve learned things are not always what they seem.

Another shadow passes over the cliff face, and I feel a rush of air

as something swoops past my head, leaving a chalky smell behind. On a second pass, the thing pierces my scalp with what feels like a series of hypodermic needles and hangs on.

Yowch, I yell, jerking a gloved hand from the rope. I reach toward my head and grasp at whatever has latched onto me. When I feel a solid mass under my glove, I squeeze tight. Then I yank, causing a flurry of falling feathers and a squawk. But the thing, which must be a bird, releases its grip. I pull my captive toward my face to discover that my attacker is a raven. My shock at its presence overcomes the throbbing pain in my scalp.

I can’t let this this servant of Natas—the source of evil in Fairyland—report back to its master. He’d send all kinds of nasties after me.

The bird squawks and squirms some more. Then it bends its neck down to peck my wrist, hoping I’ll let go. I don’t loosen my grasp.

Finally, it turns toward my face. Worried it’ll go for my eyes, I slam it against the cliff face as hard as I can. Its body goes limp, and I open my hand to drop its carcass to the ground below. I grab the rope again with my other hand and rest a moment.

I wish I hadn’t had to kill such a beautiful animal, but I’ve learned that the evil beings in Fairyland have no mercy. It was him or me.

Thanks to my supernatural healing ability, the pain from my wounds is already subsiding. So my thoughts wander back to the balance stones. I ask myself, why am I so skeptical about finding and using them?

First of all, in the entire span of time, no one has ever attempted this quest because Fairyland’s good folk haven’t needed the stones before now. After hundreds of years, who knows if they’re where the first king left them? Do they even still exist?

And if they do exist and I can find them, no one has yet explained

how they’ll usher in peace. Is the magic in them still active? Will I know how to use it when the time comes?

So many questions and not a single answer. In my darkest moments, I see this as a fool’s errand.

But the optimist in me says, if there’s the slightest chance to save the benevolent numinals of Fairyland and avoid more bloodshed, I must honor the king’s request to find the stones.

Of course, after I agreed to the king’s mission, I immediately regretted my decision. While King Aubrey claims he’s pointed me in the right direction, I don’t know my final destination or what awaits me when I get there. I also don’t know what I’ll find along the way, all of which makes me nervous. The king assured me that the Creator and my swords will guide me, so I’m trying to rest in that.

The final shovelful of dirt on my grave is that I must complete this quest alone. No Crisa, with her great range of magic, no Rampart/Charles, my werewolf companion, and no Grog, my bugbear bodyguard. According to the king, deadly traps exist along the route to the stones that can kill anyone but me. I’m not sure why the Creator didn’t include Crisa, who’s immortal, in this mission. But he must have a good reason.

Although silver is probably not a part of those mettle-testing traps, I could be incapacitated or slowed down by them.

And, if the traps aren’t enough, the king tells me the dark side keeps a perpetual eye on me. They’re aware of my quest and will likely send whole squads of assassins—with silver knives and swords—after me. And if they’re bogles, well, you get the picture.

So my powers and near invincibility don’t lessen my dread of what lies ahead. I see only two outcomes to this quest—tragedy or triumph. Not only is my destination unsure, but my own human frailties stand in my way. I fear spiders, high cliffs, very dark places and evil spirits, like

bogles. Some champion, huh? If I didn’t know the Creator was behind all this, I’d assume a terrible error has been made.

And that’s what trumps my fears—divine power. If this ordinary clock repairman were all on his own, he’d run and hide. But I’m not alone. Before I decided to accept this quest, I asked the Creator for advice. He replied, I’m with you. That was all I needed to hear because he has more power than Crisa, Natas and all the good and evil magicians who have ever lived, put together.

The sun warms my back. With my fairy-enhanced nose, I inhale the clean mountain air with its hint of wild mint. I’m grateful the morning hasn’t yet awakened the sleeping wind so that the rope and I aren’t buffeted by gusts.

After what seems like hours but is probably much less, the rock face becomes more jagged. I scramble down and over a scree pile, thankful when my feet touch something solid and stable. I look down at a wide layer of shale beneath me and let go of the rope. I’ve reached the bottom.

I sigh with relief. At least I don’t have to hang from a rope for a while.

I release the rope and stretch my cramping hands. I’ll leave the rope in place, in case I return this way. With the doors to Craghollow closed and fairy patrols scouring the area, it’s okay to leave it in plain sight.

I look around, pleased that I’m alone and safe on the canyon floor, without being attacked by a gryphon or dragon. Maybe the dark side doesn’t know I’ve left the mountain.

I know, I know, wishful thinking. But a guy can dream, can’t he?

I turn to view the moraine, a mass of earth and rock formed by a retreating glacier eons ago. It stretches for miles, a fact I noted when the doors to Craghollow were still open and before I began my downward

climb. Looking across a valley from up high doesn’t bother me like peering over a cliff’s edge. Weird, huh? Cremnophobia, a fear of precipices, is what my physician, Doc Smithson, calls it.

While I was still perched on the ledge at the entrance to Craghollow, I viewed Fairyland’s northernmost edge. Here’s where the king instructed me to go, a serrated mountain range called Dragon’s Teeth. Twenty miles away, I saw its tallest peak, The Fang, as it jutted up through the clouds. The Fang is high enough to generate its own weather, but that doesn’t concern me. I can change its weather to whatever I want.

My greatest concern, however, is that the king doesn’t know exactly where the stones are hidden in those mountains. His only clue is a centuries-old riddle passed from generation to generation of fairy royalty. When the dragon opens its mouth, its dagger is sharp. Sharp pretty much describes every peak in that range. I have to trust my swords and the Creator’s guidance. I don’t want to wander around up there for months, searching every crack and cranny for four, tiny pebbles.

Now, however, I can’t see the end of the moraine. Slinky tendrils of fog creep in my direction, but I decide not to invoke my weather powers to clear the air. I’m already too vulnerable to aerial attack on this wide plateau.

The misty shroud envelops me, and I’m grateful for its safety, coolness and musky smell.

I remove my climbing gloves and lift the huge backpack off my shoulders. I root around in it, shifting items until I can pull out my helmet and hiking boots. In this pervasive fog, the helmet will signal any threat. It’s my third helmet—Galdo stole the first, and the second is back at Crisa’s compound.

After I agreed to this quest, this helmet, ordered together with a

new suit of armor, was constructed by ground gnomes, then magicked by Crisa. That means she’s given me a panoramic view. Without turning my head, I can view red flashing outlines around potential attackers, front, rear, sideways and overhead. I’ll be aware of an enemy before he sees me in the fog. My headgear, like my suit of armor, fits like a second skin and is as light and airy as gauze but with the strength of steel. Thank you, gnomes!

I change to hiking boots, stow my climbing shoes and gloves, don my helmet and close the pack. Hoisting it over one shoulder, I’m relieved it’s much lighter without the boots and helmet.

In the two weeks I lived at Craghollow, Crisa helped me decide what to take on this journey. I packed a change of clothes, sleeping and climbing gear, all-purpose rope and enough food for at least a week. She also gave me a crash course, hopefully no pun intended, in rock climbing. I’m not close to her level of expertise, but, as evidenced by my still being alive, I can get up or down a mountain if I have to.

Why, you ask, would a sorceress climb like a regular human with magic at her disposal? Using strong magic weakens Crisa, and teleportation takes a great deal of her magical reserves. To preserve her strength for fighting evil, she prefers to travel conventionally whenever possible.

I thread my way over the shale. My armor rustles, my sheathed swords, crisscrossed over my shoulders, gently slap against my sides. The pommels rest within easy reach, slightly above my hips. Two pouches of dust—one fairy, one pixie—lie secure against my chest beneath the chainmail. Both are recent gifts from the king.

As I walk forward, my super hearing detects the flutter of many wings. They’re not the distinctive swoosh of dragons’ wings.

What’s following me, I wonder. Gryphon, raven, or something else?

I look up, but the fog encases me. At least my helmet doesn’t flash red. That means what’s up there either isn’t a threat, or else the creatures are so high up I don’t need to worry about them right now.

Alert to any sound overhead, I whisper the words ready to fight and pull Noblesse from her sheath. I learned early on that this phrase encourages her battle spirit.

The flapping noises continue as I move along the shale. I have to peer downward to watch my footing. But I also have to raise my eyes from time to time to see if my helmet signals a threat above. It’s slow going.

I trudge on like this for some time, the crunch of shale below, the flap of wings above. Finally, I can’t stand it any longer. Using my supernatural weather ability, I will the fog to clear overhead. Like always, I end my request with by the power of the Creator.

I grasp Noblesse with both hands and point her skyward. When the fog parts, I see blue sky. But I also see a mass of gray shadows between the heavens and me.

Chapter 2 – Protected and Escorted

The shadows split into hundreds of pieces, and the morning sun backlights a bevy of lustrous wings. I smile at the fairy squadron floating overhead. One swoops down to hover at eye level.

This warrior’s translucent, rainbow-colored wings create a flurried blur behind him. He’s fully armored, and his helmet has a gold stripe down the middle. The rest of the headdresses don’t show any gold, so I assume the stripe indicates his high rank. He flips up his face mask to reveal large black eyes, characteristic of his race.

Good morning, Sir Calen. Like most fairies, his voice is high pitched. I told you we’d meet again. He salutes, and I return the salute.

I recognize this particular fairy as General Warrin, whose soldiers saved me once from trolls outside the human village of Lambert. That was before I was fully trained as champion and before I knew what a troll was.

I flip up my mask too. Hello, General. Good to see you again.

He clicks his tongue. Remember, it’s just Warrin.

Okay. I grin. And I’m just Calen. I cock my head. How’d you find me, with the fog and all?

We could hear the clicks from your armor as you moved beneath us. He smiles and then tightens his lips. I’m certain dark creatures could locate you as well.

Very likely. I shrug. But I feel the danger involved in this mission warrants the armor.

I understand. Warrin nods. That danger was explained to us by the king, who commissioned us to provide aerial protection, while you’re out in the open.

I sigh. "Let his Highness know how much I appreciate his concern. But I’m supposed to encounter lethal traps on this journey. I don’t want to

risk your troops’ lives."

The king believes you won’t encounter any troubles until you reach the Stagthorn Forest, which is aptly named, by the way. He grimaces. It’s a place of dark, thorny magic. Our orders are to follow you only that far.

That must be the forest.... With a tilt of my head, I indicate the trees in the distance. I saw up on Mount Halston.

Warrin flits closer. While the threats you’ll face there aren’t any less dangerous, at least the area provides cover from gryphon, dragon, bogle and banshee attacks.

As if on cue, a crow caws from somewhere overhead. Banshees? I don’t remember hearing about them when Crisa educated me on Fairyland creatures, and I’ve definitely never seen one.

That’s because they’re reclusive. Used to be they emerged from the top of the Stagthorn only when someone died or was about to die. Then you’d hear their keening for miles. A slight breeze ruffles Warren’s wings, and he flaps more vigorously. But lately, they’ve been strangely silent.

With a weak attempt at dark humor, I say, Maybe with the war and the recent goblin attacks, they’re just overworked.

Ignoring my comment, Warrin tilts his head, which causes his gold stripe to glimmer. Did you know? Banshees were once elves, who turned dark.

Elves? Really? I rub my chin. I once trained only a couple of light-side elves.

That’s because only a few are left. One day, the elf king audaciously declared his troops so tough that only a handful could defeat the dark ones. His wings flutter behind him, and he lowers his eyes. "The darklings took up that challenge. They killed many elves—males, females

and children—in a series of horrendous attacks.

A few were able to escape to the mountains, but the rest were captured and given the choice to either die slowly and painfully or ally with the dark side. They chose the latter, which changed the elfish males into dark warriors and the females into banshees. The remaining light elves stay hidden to rebuild their population.

So sad. I shake my head. Will the dark elves turn back to the light, if darkness is defeated?

Perhaps. Warrin shrugs.

Then he flaps his wings a little faster. "The king said, if you complete your mission, peace could