By Galia almejrin (Sammy)

The Fallen Hero: Part One 

 A Choice for Love

In the ancient city of Velaria, where stone castles kissed the sky and cobblestone streets buzzed with tales of legend, there lived a warrior named Elara. With eyes the color of storm clouds and a spirit as unyielding as the mountains, she had won countless battles and was hailed as the strongest defender of the realm. Songs of her bravery echoed from taverns to royal halls, and her name was synonymous with hope.

Yet, beneath the glittering armor and the powerful aura, there was a secret she guarded fiercely. Elara was in love with Lyra, the healer of the city, whose laughter could melt the frost of the harshest winter. Lyra’s presence was the balm to Elara’s scars, her touch the reminder that even the hardest warrior was still human.

Velaria’s prosperity drew jealousy from neighboring kingdoms, especially from the dark realm of Rathmor, ruled by the cruel sorcerer King Aric. He was a shadow in the shape of a man, draped in darkness so dense that even his voice carried echoes of despair. Aric had been eyeing Velaria with plans of conquest, determined to claim its riches and break the spirit of its people.

One night, as twilight bled into the horizon, Velaria’s fortress shook with a sound unlike any battle cry. The ground trembled, and the sky split open as if the gods themselves had turned against them. Aric had summoned the Behemoth, a creature born of nightmares, all fangs and claws that scraped the stars. It descended upon the city, leaving terror and ruin in its wake.

Elara gathered her troops, eyes aflame with fury, determined to defend her home. But as the chaos unfolded, a whisper reached her ears—a messenger from Aric himself. In exchange for sparing Lyra’s life, Aric demanded that Elara surrender the protective Heartstone of Velaria, a gem that held the very essence of their city’s power.

Elara’s blood ran cold. The Heartstone was more than a treasure; it was the lifeblood of Velaria, its source of strength. Without it, the city would fall, vulnerable and defenseless. But the thought of Lyra’s laughter fading, her gentle hands no longer binding wounds, was a loss Elara could not bear.

As midnight loomed, with the fires of battle painting the horizon in hellish hues, Elara found herself at the altar of the Heartstone. Its glow pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and warm, as if sensing her turmoil.

“You must choose,” came a voice from behind her. It was Lyra, her green eyes wide with a mixture of terror and love.

Elara’s chest tightened as she turned, fighting the urge to reach out and pull Lyra close. “I have no choice,” Elara whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of the decision.

Tears welled in Lyra’s eyes as understanding dawned on her. “Elara, no… The city—”

“I do this for you,” Elara said, her voice breaking. “For love.”

With a final glance at Lyra, Elara pressed her hand against the stone, willing it to part with its power. The light dimmed and the room plunged into a darkness that seemed to mourn alongside her.

The ground quaked once more as Aric’s laughter filled the night. He would spare Lyra, as promised, but Velaria’s fate was now sealed.

In that moment, Elara knew she was no longer the hero they sang of. She was the fallen, and she had done it for love.

The Fallen Hero: Part Two 

 Shadows of Consequence

In the aftermath of Elara’s fateful decision, a heavy silence blanketed Velaria. The once-protected city felt vulnerable, its people sensing an unsettling shift in the air. The Heartstone, their city’s ancient shield, was gone—its warmth and light extinguished by the very warrior they trusted most. Elara’s name, once spoken in awe, now passed through lips tinged with disbelief and whispers of betrayal.

Elara stood alone on the castle balcony, her gaze fixed on the ruined horizon. The Behemoth was gone, as was Aric, but they had left their mark, a searing scar across Velaria’s heart. The city felt darker, quieter, as if the world itself had drawn in a sharp breath and was now holding it, waiting.

Lyra approached her, hesitant steps echoing in the stillness. She placed a hand on Elara’s arm, and Elara flinched, almost recoiling. The cost of her choice weighed upon her, heavy and suffocating. Her love for Lyra, once the brightest light in her life, now felt tainted.

“They blame you,” Lyra said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “They fear what this means.”

Elara didn’t turn. “I know. I deserve it.”

The silence stretched between them, filled with unsaid words and festering guilt. Elara could see the uncertainty in Lyra’s eyes, a shadow that hadn’t been there before. Lyra’s love, once unwavering, now trembled, touched by the fear of what Elara’s decision might mean for them.

“Was it worth it?” Lyra finally asked, her voice raw.

Elara’s chest tightened. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, the words tearing at her. She had sacrificed Velaria’s safety, but in the process, had she also lost the purest love she’d ever known?

Before Lyra could respond, the ground trembled beneath their feet. In the distance, a faint but ominous glow began to rise over the hills, a fiery line that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. Elara’s eyes narrowed, dread pooling in her stomach.

“Aric’s forces,” she breathed, her voice edged with horror. “They’re returning.”

Lyra’s face paled. “But… he promised. He swore he’d spare Velaria.”

Elara clenched her fists, anger and shame twisting inside her. “Aric is a liar. He always was.”

At that moment, a call to arms echoed through the city. Velaria’s soldiers scrambled to take their positions, their faces grim as they realized the dark forces would show no mercy. And without the Heartstone, they had no shield, no hope of withstanding Aric’s wrath.

Elara turned to Lyra, desperation flashing in her eyes. “Go to the city’s edge. Find safety. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

But Lyra grabbed her hand, shaking her head. “No, Elara. I can’t leave you. Not now.”

“Then at least stay back,” Elara urged, pain lacing her words. “If you’re here, I’ll only worry for you.”

Lyra hesitated, her grip loosening. For a fleeting moment, her fingers lingered against Elara’s, a silent promise of love and loyalty. Then, reluctantly, she nodded, retreating into the shadows, casting one last, mournful look over her shoulder.

Elara marched toward the gathering soldiers, her heart pounding as she felt the weight of her choice anew. Her betrayal of Velaria, the crumbling of her honor—all had led to this moment. Her people might hate her, but she was still their defender, and she would face Aric’s darkness head-on.

As the first wave of Rathmor’s soldiers descended upon the city, Elara drew her sword, each swing a blur of fury and regret. She fought with a ferocity that left her enemies staggering, a whirlwind of steel and vengeance. But with each passing moment, it became clear that Aric’s forces were endless, pouring over the walls like a tidal wave of shadows.

Elara’s strength began to wane, her breathing ragged as she struggled to keep up with the onslaught. And then, as she staggered backward, gasping for breath, she felt a presence beside her. She turned, expecting to see a fellow soldier, but found herself face-to-face with a cloaked figure, his face hidden beneath a dark hood.

“Aric,” she spat, raising her sword.

The sorcerer chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a chill down her spine. “Elara, dear, valiant Elara. So quick to fight, even after you’ve already lost.”

Her jaw tightened. “I haven’t lost. I’ll never let you have Velaria.”

“Ah, but you already have.” He extended a skeletal hand, his fingers curling as if to seize her very soul. “You gave me exactly what I wanted, my dear. The Heartstone was only the beginning.”

Confusion flashed across her face, her grip faltering. “What are you talking about?”

Aric’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “You gave me your city’s power, yes. But more than that, you surrendered the heart of Velaria—its greatest strength, its hero. With your betrayal, you’ve planted the seed of distrust. Now, I need only watch as it grows and consumes your people from within.”

A sickening realization dawned on Elara. This had been his plan all along—to turn her own people against her, to break Velaria not through brute force, but by destroying the unity they held dear.

Elara’s hand shook as she lifted her sword once more, a single tear tracing down her cheek. She knew then that the battle she faced was not just against Aric’s forces, but against her own guilt, her own regret, and the poison of doubt that would spread through Velaria like a silent plague.

She swung her blade, but Aric had vanished, leaving only his chilling laughter to linger in the air.

As the night wore on and the city continued its desperate fight, Elara knew this was far from over. She would not rest until she had undone the darkness she had unleashed—whatever the cost.

To be continued…