Prejudice. Enmity. Bigotry. These awful colors of life, as flawed as they were, rang about like church bells as blood painted the fresh green grass. Swords and daggers clashed together like a stormy ocean, and the metallic smell of blood was overpowering. The clopping hooves of startled horses pierced the ground, kicking up dirt and freshly planted flowers that had just started to reach out towards the sun. Shouts rang out as commanders drove their allies onward, brandishing flags held high, each a different sector of the Elven kingdom. The commander of the Talet Defense Force, an aged old Elf with battle scars decorating his face, made sure his voice was heard as he hollered directions and orders to his troops.
"Don't let them get to the tree line! We have to hold them back here!" He was on foot, surrounded by a dozen men mounted on horseback, using his banner as a sort of weapon as he thrust it forward against the incoming horde of demons.
The Demons themselves, while certainly not as organized as the Elves, had their own army at their disposal. Trained from the second they opened their eyes, these monsters of the darkness were beyond experts as hand-to-hand combat and dark magic. They all wore different tones of black and red to hide in the shadows, but not an ounce of armor to protect them. That was the arrogance in them, blooming in full force. Demons housed power that was still not yet understood by the Elven kingdom, and they used this as their ultimate advantage.
They charged forward, using their flexible bodies to dodge blows from the Elve's magic spells and silver swords. Using their own king of demented magic, they sent explosive balls of light towards the Elven defense line, and in seconds, what was once on the ground was sent into the air as if gravity had ceased to exist. The Elves that were unlucky enough to be in the path of the blast were either torn apart or blown away, never to be seen again.
The commander watched with his mouth wide open as one of the front-line Elves was caught in a Demon's grasp. It was a horrid sight. The Demon was slim, yet had toned muscles on his arms and stomach. His hair was a copper brown, and the horns atop his head were small, yet sharper that steel. He had no weapons, only claws that seemed to have been dipped in some type of poison. He tore into the Elf's neck as if he was tearing into paper. The Elf tried to scream for help, but nothing came out besides gurgled gasps. Blood spurted out like a fountain, splattering over the Demon's face and bare chest. When the Elf was nothing but a dead corpse, he tossed the body aside and let out a roar.
The commander could feel his heartbeat pick up, and as he turned his head to the only growing line of Demons emerging from the trees, he could have sworn that his heart had nearly stopped.
Rarely was she seen, for she preferred to have her reputation speak for her, but in the Elven commander's eyes, he saw the Demon Queen. Her amber eyes surveyed the battlefield with almost a look of amusement, like she was entertained by the slaughtering taking place before her. Her elegant red and black silk dress draped along the ground as she walked, two large Havoc Demons at her sides. Her slim tail swished back and forth, cutting the tops off of flowers and mowing down the grass effortlessly, showcasing just how sharp her tail was, which only helped to emphasize how sharp her horns and nails would be.
The Elven commander didn't even notice that he was running, and neither did he notice that he had dropped his banner and flag as he fled for his life.
He could hear the shouts from the other Elven soldiers behind him, all calling out to him, but he didn't turn back. His pride had been shattered into a million pieces, and the only thing that mattered now was getting to the teleportation gate. The portal that would send him home.
But he was too late.
"Your men have fallen," a voice, smooth as silk, whispered into his ear. The Elven commander turned around and was face-to-face with the Demon Queen. She was taller than him, much taller. Her slim physique and flawless complexion would have been considered attractive by any men who laid eyes on her, but the commander was far too petrified to even consider giving that an ounce of thought. As she towered over him, she smiled, revealing two neat, pristine rows of sharp teeth. The Elven commander gulped, finding it hard to breathe.
"What a shame that is," the Demon Queen continued. "You Elves are such beautiful creatures. So pure. So elegant. Yet so hateful. So jaundiced in what you believe in...we could have gotten along, you know. Well, it is far too late for that now, isn't it? This struggle over land has been quite the game between you and I, hasn't it? For all this, you only have your folly to blame."
The Elven commander felt his knees buckle as the Demon Queen walked towards him, her long nails scraping against the length of an old wooden fence separating the main dirt path from the sheep pen, as a humble farmhouse sat a few feet away. She stopped just before him, leaning down slightly. Her face was right in front of his, and she smelled of lavender and fresh linen. It was such a calming aroma, and it was hard for the commander to focus on anything else.
"It is no matter," she said, her voice like a purr. "All of you will fall before my people. The Demons shall rise like your God intended, and you will all perish. However, I did enjoy our little fights, do not be mistaken. But all good things must come to an end at some point, don't you agree?"
The Elven commander stared into the Demon Queen's amber eyes. They were mesmerizing, almost like two large topazes embedded in her skull, and he found himself unable to look away. He wanted to ask her a question, but his throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and sealed shut. The Demon Queen smiled, revealing her sharp teeth.
"Do not worry, my dear," she said, her voice still silky smooth. "This shall be painless."
The Demon Queen then raised her hand and thrust her sharp claws into the Elven commander's chest, driving right through the armor and muscle and bone, breaking the spine and piercing the skin, her arm protruding from his back. Blood dripped from her long nails, running along her arm and cascading down the aged soldiers back like a feeble waterfall.
The Demon Queen then leaned down to the commander's ear, her hot breath making his skin crawl.
"You and your people will never be safe from us," she whispered. "We will tear you limb from limb, and your lands will be ours. That...is the end of this story." She deftly removed her arm from the commander's chest, and he slumped forward for a second before hitting the ground with a dull thump.
She examined her hand, then gingerly licked a string of blood from her forearm. The taste was sweet like nectar, with a slightly sour tinge to it that she greatly enjoyed.
One of the smaller breeds of Demon, known only as Demi-Demons, came up along beside her, his face spotted with dark splashes of blood. "We've killed the lot of 'em. What's next?"
The Demon Queen smiled, then turned to face the city of Talet. "Token, my child. All of Token is next."