Elika sat alone in the dense wood; using it as her escape from the masses of troops preparing for yet another raid on the hell dimension. Her father was sending more over confident and bloodthirsty men to murder and destroy another colony of hell. Elika sighed, leaning back against one of the bulky oak trees. She may be Atlas's youngest child and only daughter, but she was nothing like him, or the others that layered and corrupted her family tree. She behaved nothing like the ignorant king who stood by as his people suffered and died in a pointless war.
It was as though her father was brainwashing them all to believe that the war was a good and noble task, like being a part of it would bring some sort of eternal glory. But it was all a lie, the only thing that the war brought was pain and death. Elika saw no logic in the countless raids or the meaningless deaths of the people from both dimensions.
She believed that it only continued because of the hatred her father and uncle Darkous shared, the very same hatred that consumed and destroyed their father before them, and that now devoured the world.
Atlas was a cruel and brutal man, someone who should never have become a father. He loved the war, loved killing. But he also caused Elika a lot of pain, his punishments both savage and untamed. The princess' body was coated in scars, the long white lines acting as evidence of her father's brutality.
And yet, the princess couldn't help but love him. She wanted her father to be proud of her, to stop injuring her. But, Elika couldn't bring herself to care about the war; to want to fight.
Elika saw all the deaths as pointless and the destruction that followed more so, both kingdoms murdered each other's people with no logical reason behind it. Both kings were completely oblivious to the suffering of their own people, it was like they both needed the war, even craved it. Her father constantly organised brutal raids which he then sent to murder the citizens of hell, while Darkous organised the same raids and sent them to kill the people of Elika's kingdom.
Both Atlas and Darkous were responsible for hundreds if not thousands of deaths; it was as though they loved the murdering and the deaths that surrounded the kingdoms. She had come to believe that they both needed the chaos to survive. For centuries those born in either dimension lived and breathed war, all children were raised on the battlefield and in the shooting ranges.
The war had changed the very way that the people of all dimensions lived, breathed and thought. The people of her kingdom all raised their children to kill and despise others, generation after generation of her people and the people of the hell dimension died in a pointless war. Men and women fought for a useless cause and killed for their immortal rulers. The true reason behind the endless battles lost and mouldered into myth, the people of both kingdoms created their own reasons to right. They kept the war alive through lies and hard truths, it was their way of keeping the flame of hate alive it the hearts of their people.
Elika looked up at the trees towering over her and sighed once more, she just couldn't understand the need for so much death. The stench of rot layered the kingdom like a blanket and violently collided with the scent of trees, and yet it was as though only Elika could see the damage that the war caused on the land itself.
She could feel the world's pain just as much as the peoples, she saw the damage that the kings had caused and yet she was powerless to stop it. Her ability to connect with the world and all that was in it took its toll, what use was she if her ability to heal couldn't cleanse the land?
What would happen to the creatures that dwelled in the dark if she couldn't help? The land was just as tainted as its people, the heart of the world just as black and dead as her fathers. The wind squealed and cried with the restless voices of the dead, their souls forever damned to walk the earth restless and alone. The people they once were lost in the wake of battle, the sky coated in the blood and ashes of the fallen.
Elika glanced down at the ancient book in her hands; it was the only recorded history of the days before the war. The real truth of how this life came to pass, a past that Elika longed for with all her heart. Maybe it was foolish of her to dream of such a life, of peace, but it was all she had ever wished for.
A time when she could live with the knowledge that her people are safe and happy, when she no longer had to look over her shoulder in fear that when she turned 16 her father would call her to fight in the senseless war. Killing and destroying the citizens of hell along with her brothers. The ancient writings told of how her grandfather had neglected and despised his people, of how he was consumed with power and hate.
Chronos' heart was that overpowered with hate that he would beat and torture his youngest son Darkous, to the point of mental breakdown and insanity. Elika couldn't imagine how Darkous had lived with the pain, of how he had survived. The writings also spoke of Darkous' coming of age festival and of how her grandfather had brutally murdered the one that Darkous loved, and then in finer detail it spoke of how the demon inside Darkous was released.
The war had begun that night with the death of a mortal girl that had mean so much to one innocent young immortal prince, whose pain had lived and turned into a deep gut retching hate. That night Darkous sought his revenge and ripped his father limb from limb in a brutal massacre, his heart lost forever in a pit of pain and anger.
From that night on wards her father Atlas and Uncle Poseidon had declared war, while Darkous was slowly consumed by his demons. Elika wrapped the ancient text back in a simple white cloth, concealing it within the overpowering roots of the oak tree. It was high treason for Elika to steal and then conceal the ancient text, but she had needed to know the answer of how the dreadful war had started, she has even craved it ever since she was a child.
The princess now knew the answer behind why her people were suffering and dying, but it had not made the decision she had to make any easier, like she had originally hoped. It had only made her heart take one more step towards the hatred that consumed all those on her family tree. She had never truly realised how alone she really was, not until now. Elika knew now how different she was from the rest of them, how different she had always been. The princess felt bad for Darkous; even after all of her people he had killed. The dark lord had been through so much suffering a foul and savage past.
The princess always wanted to search for the good in people, the people they could be if given the chance.
Elika rose from her safe haven under the tree and began her journey home, her long brown hair trailing on the moss covered ground. She delicately lifted her long black gown as she stepped over an old fallen log. She flexed her bare feet and continued through the dense wood, lifting her face toward the sky silently observing as the sun set.
Trapping Elika in yet another night of her endless solitude, doomed to stand by as a silent witness while those she cared for died all around her.