Part 1: Asfalia Chapter 1: A Tale of War

The magical Fae, gifted with the most stunning magicks and power over the world that could strike fear into the heart of any creature they crossed. Their natural beauty stunned the world and shook it with terror as they built their kingdom around the seasons, ruled by emotions, able to conquer whatever challenge may come. It was unnatural that they existed, at least to us. Their lives could span thousands of years, and each century they seemed to grow even more terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Humans were inherently lesser, but we had one advantage. Our minds had to develop better. We had the power of progression. The fae held back in their ways never changed. They could leave for a millennium and return as if no time had passed. Meanwhile, humans, we learned and evolved beyond their comprehension. With our minds set on industry and prosperity, we became a threat to their very existence. We built up our cities into vast bustling metropolises inventing ways of travel far beyond horseback and light that made candles obsolete. If they weren’t going to share their magic we were going to invent our own wonders.

Peace, it would seem, was hardly an option after that. Did the human wish for the fae to share their magic? Every chance they got. The fae were far too distrusting of us, though. They saw how we would fight amongst ourselves and kill in cruel, unspeakable ways. Trust: the simple act of believing the best in someone was not on anyone’s mind.

Eventually, the fae grew tired of hearing the same plea. Granted it was different generations asking each time, but to the fae it was just the same insignificant lesser life form trying to once again gain some unfathomable power they had no business obtaining. Maybe it was a thousand years, maybe it was five thousand years but the fae finally said enough. A great barrier was erected between the two, creating separate worlds that deterred anyone from crossing and living with someone who wasn’t their own kind. The Fae’s mystical fields of Idyllian, whose very dirt contained magical wonders beyond anyone’s imagination, were now completely out of reach. Asfalia, the human lands withered causing many humans to claim the fae were just wanting to drive us out, kill us, end the festering sickness known as humanity once and for all. Humans, fortunately were far more resilient than any of the fae believed.

Ever since that day, the worlds would continue to grow separately. Humans could never dare to venture near the border, it was far too protected and a dangerous spell was cast on their walls, causing illness and sometimes death to those who stayed too long. The fae continued to hoard their magic, forcing the humans’ technology to grow. To some humans, they swore this barrier was the best thing that could have ever happened. We advanced. We grew. We would not be stagnant and we would persist. Who needs magic when we harness the very power of the sky itself and drive it through our houses as if it were ours to command? Magic fails in comparison to what we have accomplished. Humanity resists, humanity grows, we did not need them.

So why was there even a need for fighting? Humans were doing so well. Maybe the fae were right, maybe we couldn’t be trusted. It would seem humans were stagnant after all, at least in one area: greed. Were the fae right? Should they have distrusted us too much just because there will always be the greed of humanity and the hubris of our achievements?

Open war, that was the one thing we always had tried to avoid. Minor fighting was expected but we never wanted it to come to open war. All it took was one person who thought they could gain knowledge beyond their means. History books told the tale of how she was sent back to the humans in pieces. Her head was reserved for last, carrying a red letter that everyone could only speculate the contents between her teeth. From there spiralling up to minor fights that lead to open declarations and finally after centuries, here we are.

Everyone in class sat bored out of their minds hearing this story again. It was two weeks until graduation and of course the teachers were going to imprint the harsh reality of our lives every chance they could. My eyes stared out the window catching a flock of birds dancing in the wind. They weaved and bobbed following one leader they trusted with the lives of hundreds. I’d never know such trust, it was ingrained in my upbringing, trust was for the dreamers, people who could afford the risk.

“Miss Sumter.” A slam of a stick on my desk caused me to jolt back to the room. My teacher was standing over me, one hand folded across her chest tapping away at her arm while the other outstretched holding the stick poised to swing at my head if our encounter turned false. “Would you care to answer my question?” Her tone sour and hardly amused by my clear lack of concentration.

I shrugged, “Can you please repeat it?”

Her eye roll was unwelcomed though understandable, “I asked what was the result of this care package the fae had delivered to our leaders?”

“War.” I grumbled, as if it was clearly always the answer since it was our very lives.

“An oversimplification, but yes.” She walked back away with a turn back to me to made a point that the lecture needed to be sent my way, “Our side started to monitor the border. We wanted to make sure no other casualties would be sustained. The barrier was already a dangerous place and it was no place for curiosity to run wild. We stationed people on various outposts along the border. Can anyone tell me what was one unintended side effect of us doing this?” She took one long, unblinking scan of the room. Everyone was avoiding eye contact but she was used to it. Her survey of the seniors in the room was going to weed out someone who, like me was certainly not paying attention. I saw the corner of her mouth raise slightly as she pointed to one of my classmates, “Mr. Holmes?”

Rodrik, Tall, tan, muscular and far too unwilling to follow the rules. I looked over at him with caring eyes that I hoped was about to soften his answer. He was really not wanting to be singled out at the moment. He was far more comfortable in the shadows, but when he was forced into the spotlight, center of attention he had a nasty habit of sounding aggressive. He took a short few breaths and tossed me a slight nod before opening his mouth. “Humans who stayed too long near the border absorbed the radiation causing magical abilities.”

We knew why he was chosen for that answer. The women of his family benefited from it and it was well known. Rodrik, someone who they could force to fight would never benefit from the power so at every turn it was encouraged to shame in hopes eventually the woman would accept and start to fight.

“Correct.” She looked back to me with a smirk, it was also common that Rodrik and I had history so maybe that was another attempt to get some rise out of me? Regardless I refused to chime in or answer that clear desperation, “It was hardly strong abilities, some were formidable. Mostly they were minor wind movements, fire fingers, light telepathy, and telekinesis. This caused alarm, though for the fae. Suddenly humans were able to be magical, a feat they swore was only meant for them. This caused one of the first battles of the new war, as it would be called. Five hundred years ago the fae decided to attack. Lead by a great general who slaughtered an entire outpost. Luckily the families of those stationed there didn’t need to wait to retrieve their loved ones. What was the name of this battle? Anyone that can tell me will receive credit on the final exam.”

Several hands went into the air as if this was an offering that could make or break their careers. She picked an overeager girl toward the front, “The Battle of the Wolf.”

Wrong, I thought, it was the Night of the Wolf, though that mistake was expected.

She wasn’t satisfied though, “Why was it called that?”

“They say it was the sound of wolves howling that signaled the attack. The fae used them to disorient the people stationed there.”

“Correct, and what did we learn from this battle?” Another hand shot up and she pointed, allowing someone else to continue the mock discussion.

“The fae have a monarchy. They are ruled by a shapeshifting king who can command wolves.”

“And?” Her finger went to another classmate. It wasn’t even a challenge; we all grew up with this story. Though I guess some remembered the details to a better degree than most.

“Fae can be killed.” I answered, finally interrupting everyone. No one was going to get to the main meat of the story anyway and I was getting annoyed at the round robin story telling tool.

“Well Miss Sumter, that was the significance yes, thank you for rejoining the class. Care to continue the thought as you seem to not need to be called on to gain permission first?” She just hated that I knew more than her and I was about to put it on full display. I had done it a few times this year, it always left me with a smile that outshined her sour disposition afterward.

“After the massacre, because let’s face it, it was hardly a battle, one fae was left behind. They were wounded and their kind decided they weren’t worth saving. First-hand accounts spoke of this fae being taken alive and then later died while being examined. This is how we finally learned how to kill them. This changed how we garded and armed the outposts. So naturally any hope either side had for pleading for peace was over. Both sides now believed they were one step ahead. Years later we still benefit from this fae’s death. First it was the arrows in our bows then bullets in our guns. Fae could be not just injured but killed by iron. Basically the Night of the Wolf, which is the historically accurate name of the night” I turned to the girl with a snide glare before continuing my lesson, “accelerated the human side into a more effective enemy. We may have lost an entire outpost, one that we don’t keep guarded even today, but we gained far more knowledge that has outweighed the means.”

“I assume your final paper is being written on this topic?” The teacher grumbled.

“No,” My wicked grin was going to dance on her grave, “My mother’s family is the family who archived the knowledge gained from the experiments that were done on the fae.” Sumter was my father’s name, one that I hated needed to display to the world. Sumter was the name of the general who guarded the northernmost outpost. My mother, Lydia Sangriel, struck fear into the hearts of academics.

She never pursued the craft of fae experimentation. She was more adept with medicine which of course is how she met my father. Together they were a force to be reckoned with. My mother, when she became pregnant with me put her foot down and decided to venture father away from the border. She had heard stories of children growing up odd when they were exposed to the magic in the air far too young and she was not going to chance it.

“Well,” I saw her stance twitching while she tried to regain control over the room but I had already won. History was just a class I had to take to graduate, I wasn’t gaining any knowledge here. “No more outbursts from you! Ashai, it is unbecoming to be a know it all.” turning back to the rest of the class she continued her lesson. I was proud she finally used my first name. Being reminded of my father when I was proving my prowess with my own right was far less of a reward.

It wasn’t hard to ignore everything else after that. Now I knew she wasn’t going to pester me anymore for the rest of the day either. If she knew what was good for her she’d even leave me alone the rest of the semester. All I had to do now was wait for that final bell to ring through the halls so I could slip home.

“Aren’t the fae stronger than us though?” One naive boy asked with a shaking voice.

No, I answered silently. They are gifted in different areas but the war has gone on so long because, in all honesty we are equally matched. Could the fae overpower us? Sure, no one knows why when we meet on the battlefield they don’t just use magic to destroy us, but it doesn’t matter. We guard with so much iron it’s a feat of strength to be part of a mining family, carrying nearly as much clout as the soldiers. I sighed as I turned back to the window and frowned. The birds had moved on, unlike me who was perpetually stuck here. Hours wasted and dreams never caught.