The Last Stand of Arnau

“I should have made a better plan. I should have thought up a better gambit.”

I looked at him, his eyes down on the ground and hatred in his eyes. Not for anyone else, I realized, but for himself. It never ceased to amaze me how different he was. They called him ‘Fortis the Anarchist’, ‘Fortis the Rebel’; the bane of the Blessed and Blasphemer. One would imagine some sort of large intimidating griffin, with a scarred coat and unkempt feathers. Instead, he was a relatively well-muscled earth-griffin tiercel with a dark blue feathers and a short brown coat.

“I trust you,” I said.

He looked at me, his expression trying not to betray anything; however, I knew his eyes. The normally expressive brown eyes shrunk to almost half their usual size. “You shouldn’t,” he replied. “Not on this.”

I looked at the burning Gale Valley, where once stood the proud city of the South. Blessed Tierra had been very thorough when she called down the flames that consumed her and her city to stop the enemy’s momentum. My Northern Guards and Fortis’ Free Gryphons were working together, trying to evacuate the wounded and the stragglers. I could hear moans, of either griffin or otherwise. “Your plan does have merit, Fortis.”

“My plan asks you to organize a massive and speedy retreat northwards, hoping to scatter their enormous numbers. I am also asking you to burn farmlands, and poison the soils along the way and, in the end, defend against the tide of Cloven giving chase. This is to buy me enough time to gather the Southern Guard. What merit does it have?” Fortis asked, heat escaping his voice as his muscled body shivered.

“You want to force the Cloven to fight on two fronts, while taking out their ability to feed themselves. You plan for me to be your anvil, Fortis, awaiting your wrathful hammer to smite our foes,” I replied. I looked around and made sure no one could see us before I softly bit on the nape of his feathered neck. A trill of pleasure escaped his beak, the sound of it spreading warmth all around my body. “I think your plan has a lot of merits.”

“Ancestors,” Fortis whispered. “We are on the precipice of annihilation. We should be leaving.”

“Where will we go?”

“I do not know. Towards the West?”

I chuckled. “Have you been listening to the Western Guards and their stories of lands, young and unexplored?”

“Well, it does sound like a place to start anew, milady,” Fortis replied with a slight smile. He slowly rubbed his claws all over my snow-white coat and feathers.

This time, a trill of pleasure escaped my beak. I looked at him. “And how about the Ponies that live there? Horned ponies that have magic, winged ponies that can fly, or the simpler ponies? What do we do if they protest to our presence?”

He gave me a smile. “We can always eat them.”

I laughed, and for the first time fighting, I felt light. He always seemed to know when to calm me. My Fortis.

We both looked at the burning Valley. I took a deep breathe.

“Can we still win this?” I asked.

“There’s always hope, milady.” He looked at me. “There’s always hope.”

Crows take me. Waking up from a dream like that was nothing but pure torture. Imagine, feeling the very warmth ripped out of you by the cruel clutches of reality. It left everything disoriented. It left everything cold.

I shivered as my claw immediately went towards my left, feeling the biting metal hilt of Leuchtenstark, Ancestral Sword of the North, Lightbringer to the Dark. It was the only thing my father left me, after he was taken by the Cloven. For now, it was a comfort, giving me that sense of stability in this chaotic world.

Oh, Fortis, I thought. When were you coming?

I stood up, looking around my assigned quarters. It was bare, nothing more than a small enclosure of white smoothed walls with an armor stand in the corner. Not my usual choice, but more than any griffin could ask. Stretching my wings and legs slightly, I made my way to the stand and began to dress; tightening the straps to make sure none of the plates would fall before I stepped outside.

First thing that greeted me was the shouts of marching orders that echoed in the night air. Standing near the edge of the battlement, I saw tiercels and eagless armed with an assortment of weapons, as they dashed in different directions, their armor creating clashing and clanging sounds. Centurions bellowed for them to move faster. Screams of orders drowned even the harshest and sharpest cries of cubs, forcefully carried by their parents, who were guided by the Guards towards the deeper caverns of The White Stronghold, Fahlstein.

Carved from the mountain, this two-level stronghold was built as a defensive garrison situated at almost the center of the Four Territories—the Northern Mountains, the Western Ports, the Eastern Plains, and the Southern Farmlands. It was the Accorded Neutral Grounds where the Blessed would meet to settle disputes. Now, it was to be used as the final defensive stand against our enemies.

The skies were patrolled by spear-wielding sky-griffins, those with unparalleled flying and scouting abilities. They were either destroying as many enemy scouts or trying to get as much information as they could on the advancing adversary, their sharp eagle-eyes straining for every detail they could find.

On the ground below, glowing staves represented the mage griffins, gifted by the Ancestors’ magic, hard at work as they healed those with the least injuries first so they could rejoin their brethren in battle. They left a swath of bodies of moaning griffins, a lot with missing eyes, legs, and even wings, for the Medica, who were stabilizing those in critical condition.

The earth-griffins, blessed with a bloodline of unparalleled strength, carried large stones and placed them on catapults. Every now and then, those catapults would launch the stones high up in the air, flying towards the fields below. Some earth-griffins were pulling carts filled with old, lame and injured griffins. Elsewhere, they were working as blacksmiths working on red-hot metal, hammering rhythmically, flattening them to shape with fast-dying embers sparkling through the air.

It was a nightmarish vision. Even high upon a cliff, my sharp eagle-eyes let no detail escape the image of chaos. The white stones of Fahlstein were awashed with precious crimson blood of the injured and dying. The air, smelling of copper and metal, attracted the crows above, a black cloud that hovered around like death.

War was never a stranger for the Griffin Tribes. Ever since the Tribal Formation, the Blessed Lineage fought each other for territory. Yet they had never seen so much destruction on this scale, a war waged by an enemy with a singular purpose—to consume us all.

It was funny. Months before, the biggest worry the Blessed had was Fortis, a griffin of unremarkable Lineage who had succeeded in killing Lord Aldus of the East and turned the Eastern Lands into Free Gryphon. His idea, for griffins to be free from the clutches of the Blessed Lineage, to live without being judged by their bloodlines, was encroaching to all territories that the Blessed considered him a public enemy. Oh how things have changed.

Now, the Western and Northern Guards flew together and the Shields of Gryphon, Fortis’ soldiers, helping along. For all the destruction, for all the chaos the enemy had wrought, they had also done the impossible—uniting the griffins together.

“Blessed Arnau.”

I looked to my left and spotted the Tribune Strategica, bowing down. On all fours, he was a tall and lean tiercel with blue-spotted white feathers and a gray-peppered brown coat. “Yes, Victus?”

“The Cloven ground forces are marching towards the final line of defense. Our fliers are still holding well against our enemy air forces, but it has been days, my Blessed. Tribune Auxiliaris still hasn’t received any word.” Victus paused. “Maybe we should consider the possibility that Fortis won’t arrive on time.”

Well, at least he wasn’t saying that Fortis wasn’t going to come at all. I sighed. “What are you saying, Victus?”

“My Blessed, there’s an air coach in the Western Gates. It awaits your presence and will take you to the Ports, where a boat awaits. It shall take you to the West, towards the Lands of the Three Pony Tribes, where you may be kept safe”

I blinked, confused for a moment. Then, I narrowed my eyes. “Are you asking me to run, Tribune?”

“Yes,” Victus replied. “Do I have to remind you that you are of the last of the Blessed Lineages?”

I nodded. “I know who I am, Tribune Strategica. I know my role. And no fancy words from your tongue will convince me to run and abandon our fellow griffins.” I scoffed. “Run if you want, Victus. But I’m staying.”

A hurt trill escaped the tiercel’s beak. “I’m only looking out for you, my Blessed. I would follow you to the ends of the skies.”

“Good,” I declared as I closed my eyes for a moment, and then looked back to him. I said, evenly, “You are our most experienced Tribune. It would be a hard blow to lose you at this stage. As for Fortis, he’ll get here on time, Victus.” I took a deep breath. “So… the Cloven have arrived. After almost five days. The Shield of Gryphon really does live up to their reputation.”

Victus’ beak tightened before he gave a grudging nod. “Their defensive capabilities, their shieldwall tactics, are very effective.”

“Have we been able to reinforce Fahlstein’s walls and gate?”

Victus nodded. “With the time given to us, we have reinforced as much as we could.”

“How about the First Strike Gambit? Have preparations been made?” I asked.

“I have spoken with the Free Gryphon’s Tribune Tactica,” Victus replied. “She has confirmed that they have spread the oil during their retreats. I have gathered all mages I could.”

“Good. Prepare them and await my signal,” I ordered. “Today, we shall show the enemy the fires of our rage.”

Victus gave a satisfied smile and bowed sharply. I couldn’t blame him. We normally fought our enemies aggressively, charging in and flanking them. But with an enemy like the Cloven, defensive formations and more cautious overlook were warranted.

We both took off in different directions. I focused on the sight below me, on the griffins in Fahlstein. Fighting defensively may have bought us time, but stained the White Stronghold with griffin blood. It was time to pay back the favor.

I landed on the frontline battlements, watching griffins operate the ballasts or throwing rocks towards the tide of black and orange—the Cloven.

They were strange insect-like creatures, first reported to be nothing more than bulky shelled beings that came in just a handful of numbers. When they had first attacked the Griffin Tribes, they used subterfuge and confusion by taking control of griffins using Parasites, small creatures that entered a griffin through the mouth and dug their way to their brains, controlling them. We never knew what hit us.

They began by targeting the Blessed, planting seeds of doubt and spreading chaos throughout the regions. Families fought against families, neighbors against neighbors. Blessed Authority began to face doubt and it all culminated into bedlam: Blessed Riveria of the West was killed by his own son. My father fell by the claw of his most trusted bodyguard. And Blessed Tierra was almost killed by her own lover.

Was there any surprise when we called these griffins ‘Corrupted’?

In front of the horde, Corrupted griffins, with missing limbs, bloodied feathers, and cut almost completely open, marched with reckless abandon. My eyes began to search for the more dangerous Corrupted—mages, who could still use magic to devastating effect. Thank the Ancestors, there were none.

Marching right behind the Corrupted were the Cloven soldiers. They now mimicked our basic feline and eagle forms, with their bodies made of black and orange chitin and their eyes nothing more than deep black lifeless orbs. The ground forces had, instead of wings, two long sharp spikes, and their beaks were unnaturally pointed. Their unseen fliers had elongated talons and spiked barbs on their tails.

However, that wasn’t what made the Cloven dangerous. It was their unnatural discipline, moving and marching in complete synchronization, controlled by a Cloven Overlord through unknown means. They were unfettered and unbothered by rocks, arrows, and spears flying at their direction. If one of them fell, the Cloven would not come to recover their wounded. They would either let them fall from the sky or continue walking, crushing their comrades underneath.

Factor in their extremely large numbers, they become an unstoppable swarm.

“Lady Arnau.”

I took a moment to look towards a muscled eagless, Fortis’ Tribune Tactica, making her way towards me. She bared her neck, which Fortis explained was the Free Gryphon’s way of showing respect.

“Yes, Tribune?”

“First Strike Gambit is proceeding as planned. The First Shield is retreating from their formation,” the Tribune replied. She pointed towards the Shield of Gryphon soldiers near Fahlstein’s front gate—the final line of defense.

In front, earth-griffins carried diamond-shaped shields, interlocked together, blocking the incoming attacks and bringing the Cloven march to a stop. The shield was designed to act as an extra leg for balance, and if need be, the shield-holders could hover in a disciplined formation to adjust with the situation.

Every once in awhile, two shields would split apart just long enough for the spear from a speargriffin to stab out, or for the shield-holder to use his simple thick sword to strike a Cloven or Corrupted. And at a centurion’s signal, the frontline would strongly smash their shields outwards and fly fast and high enough that the shield-holder behind them would take their place immediately, keeping the soldiers fresh.

There was a loud screech. I stared at the Northern Guard flying towards a vulnerable Cloven position. Diving down, they immediately hit the Cloven mercilessly before the Guards took off once the enemy began to mount a counterattack. Then, the Western Guards flew to the other side repeated the same procedure.

“No fliers, no Corrupted mages,” the Tribune declared with a wide smile. “I think your plan is going to work, Lady Arnau.”

“I hope so,” I muttered. “How about the Overlords?”

“We killed two so far,” the Tribune replied. “That scattered the Cloven for a good while and gave our soldiers a bit of a morale boost. No more appeared afterwards, though, so they might have decided to go into hiding.”

“Hopefully this gambit will kill more of them.”

The Tribune nodded. “We can hope.”

I watched as the retreat took place. Even while hovering backwards, they still did a number on their enemies. Yet, no matter how many would fall, another would take its place. Cloven and Corrupted marched without pause, continuing the attack as the front line steadily and slowly retreated. In an amazing show of teamwork, the First Shield’s formation slowly collapsed into thirty shields that folded into twenty, then to ten, and finally into three shields as they steadily retreated on the now open gate.

“Secure the retreat!” Tribune Tactica ordered. One of the griffins on her right raised a tall flagpole, screaming a signal. The sound of thumping strings released from tension reverberated in the air, along with whistling sounds that ended with the ugly thwack of impact. The Cloven charging against the retreating griffins were pushed back by heavy bolts launched by the ballistae.

“Ancestors I love them,” the Tribune declared. I was confused until I realized the Tribune was talking about ballistae. “The Captain was even talking about making them small enough for a single griffin to carry.”

I had to smile. “Are you saying that for your benefit or for mine, Tribune?”

“Ma’am, the Captain is not stupid. Even if we do win this war, there’s still a chance that we’ll have to continue fighting. The Free Gryphons are, after all, branded as anarchists, criminals, and Blasphemers.”

“You care for him. That is a very admirable trait.” I paused. “Know this Tribune… I have no quarrel with either Captain Fortis or the Free Gryphons. And being the last of the Blessed Lineages, I have more to fear from him than he has from me.”

The Tribune looked at me for a moment, considering. The muscled eagless then turned her eyes to the battlefield. “Rumors abound say that you most likely won’t have to worry about him, at least not in battle. Though there are rumors he’s not bad in that field either.”

Thank the Ancestors my helmet hid my cheeks. “Tribune, now is not the time to discuss baseless rumors.”

“Of course not,” the Tribune Tactica replied, a smile appearing on her face. Then, as quickly as it came, it faded as her eyes went down towards the main gate being closed. “Ma’am, we have finished the retreat. The mages await your signal.”

My eyes went towards the field below. The tide of black and orange approached Fahlstein’s walls. My right claw enclosed around the hilt of Leuchtenstark. “Let’s draw them in a bit. I want to make sure we take out as many of them as we can.”

The Tribune said nothing, leaving me to focus on the field. As more and more black figures began to group together below, I felt a flicker of doubt. For some reason, Victus’ words came back to me.

“Tribune,” I whispered. “It’s been days and he hasn’t shown up yet.”

“I have faith in the Captain,” the Tribune replied immediately. I turned to look at her face and saw nothing but complete and utter confidence. “You should too, ma’am.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it; her faith in Fortis was unwavering and that steeled my decision. With a swift motion, I held Leuchtenstark up high in the air. Finally unsheathed, it glowed steadily with a white-blue light, blinding—a perfect signal. Around the battlement, as if to respond, staves began to illuminate in a multitude of colors.

Somewhere, griffins cheered as the glow began to form and change itself to a red ball that quickly grew in size. The cheering went even louder when the balls launched themselves towards the fields of Cloven, hitting the grouped swarms, leaving behind melted chitin and holes the size of a large stone. And on impact, the ground suddenly exploded as the oil spread out earlier had caught aflame, rising up and cooking the Cloven standing on the ground.

For a second the sound of marching Cloven and Corrupted continued. It then began to crawl to a stop. The cheering was replaced with the crackling roar of the flame as it spread outwards, from the gate to a good distance away.

“There,” I muttered to myself, nodding. “That should buy us a few more hours.”

“Uh… quite,” was the Tribune’s response.

The hesitation caught my attention. I turned and looked at the eagless. “What is it Tribune?”

“Why have the crows grown silent?”

I blinked. Once the Tribune’s words registered, my eyes went immediately towards the skies, finding no more cawing crows in sight and it felt… cold. It was a moment later, when a draft passed around me that I noticed the air moving, fast and strong. The sound of thunder made its way to my senses, and I saw lightning sparkling up the sky like veins of stars. It was as if—

“Watch out!”

White—everything turned white. Was I in the air? I couldn’t tell. I opened my eyes. I closed my eyes. Everything was still white. Straining my ears, I wondered if I could hear anything. All I got was ringing.

And then, my vision came back—slowly, gradually. Rolling on the ground, I saw a griffin, a tiercel. His back faced me, as he looked out towards… emptiness. I found myself standing up, walking towards the lone tiercel. As I stepped closer, I began to make out more details. His form, his stance, was quite, no, very familiar.

“Father?” I asked.

The tiercel slowly turned towards me. His face was still… hidden. I couldn’t see anything but an outline. I couldn’t see his eyes. I couldn’t see if he was smiling or not. I couldn’t see if he recognized me.

A roar of thunder made me gasp. I was in the sky, the pinpricks of light sparkling strongly in the velvet background. I could see the world below. There were the Lands of the Griffin Tribes. I saw war, not only in our Lands, but everywhere. Towards the West, beyond the sea, were the uncharted territories of the Three Pony Tribes, I could see ponies fighting amongst themselves as everything around them turned to ice.

I looked at my father. He was not alone. Griffins gathered around him, the velvet blanket covered with many griffins as far as I could see. All of them, even my father, had white eyes. And they all stared at me.

“Stand fast, Daughter of the North,” my father declared, his voice booming and echoing in the night. My claws immediately went to my ears, but it helped none. His voice spoke directly into my head. “He is on his way.”

“Wh-what?” I shouted back, my voice nothing compared to the oral onslaught. “Who are you all? And to whom do you refer?”

They all began to talk together.

“Do not falter. Stand fast. Stand strong. Fortis of the East is on his way.”

Fortis was coming? What did they mean? I was about to ask more when the griffins began to fade. I shouted, “Wait! Tell me more! Please! When is he—”

“—ady Arnau!”

Something hard impacted my armor. I felt my eyes open, and was immediately greeted by the dark night skies and pouring rain. I focused on the face in front of me. It was the Tribune Tactica, and she was shaking me.

“Ma’am! We have to get you out of here!”

I was just given a message by my father. I shook my head. Fortis was coming, he said. Fortis was on his way.

“Ma’am!”

I turned towards the Tribune, then towards the front. There were a lot of griffins forming up in front of her. “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice unbelievably steady.

“They made their play,” the Tribune explained. She looked towards her left. “Get the Tribune Strategica! Tell him we need as many as griffins we can. Yes! Even the hatchlings! Every able-bodied griffin. Go! Now! Centurions! Prepare the cohorts! Take over ones without a centurion if you have to!”

I could barely stand up. The Tribune Tactica had to support me and when I finally made it to all fours, I looked at my surroundings. Up towards the battlements on top, where I once stood was now a black mess of burns and broken rock. I noticed similar marks miring its length.

“They actually waited for us to use our mages before they used theirs,” the Tribune Tactica muttered. “They made a storm cloud above without us noticing and rained down lightning bolts. They probably thought your sword was a staff. They took out all our frontline mages.”

I heard a buzzing sound. My eyes widened; only the Cloven fliers could produce such a distinct sound. The air had also become cold and muggy. Thunder roared above as the crack of lightning was followed by dull impacts. I witnessed a griffin fall just a few claw-lengths away, the smell of burnt feathers and flesh permeating my surroundings.

“Get our fliers out! Without our mages they’ll be open to the full brunt of their magic!” the Tribune ordered. She shook her head. “We’ve underestimated them. To hide their mages until a specific moment… bloody crows and carrions.”

Griffins ran towards the front, shield-holders taking position as the buzzing became louder.

“You have to get out, ma’am. This is going to get ugly,” the Tribune declared.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Ma’am?”

“My father spoke to me,” I replied. “He said Fortis was coming.”

“Lady… Arnau?”

The Tribune was confused. I couldn’t blame her. It sounded like I had gone mad, but for some reason I believed what I said. I knew it was true. Fortis was on his way. My eyes went towards the still glowing Leuchtenstark a few paces in front of me. I walked to it, my ears picking up the murmur of the griffins around me.

“Stand in formation!” I shouted, loudly. My voice croaked, but I did not care. The griffins around me blinked, surprised, as I finally reached my sword. I raised it up in the air. “I said, stand in formation! Do you want your Captain to see you cower?!”

“You heard the Lady, you idle sloths!” one of the centurions responded. “Get your lazy rears up! Up!” He rapped his claws against the griffin’s armored plate to correct his stance. Other centurions began to follow suit, and the Free Gryphons began to form up in a clean line and formation.

“Shields up! Get your shields up!”

“Spears at the ready! At the ready, I say!”

I looked towards the earth-griffin Blessed Guards. Their centurions began to work on them too. “Don’t let the Free Gryphon show us up in front of Blessed Arnau! Get your warhammers ready! Formation!”

“Here they come!”

It rained Cloven. Black armored fliers came down from the sky, dropping big black boulders. Some crashed into the shieldwall formation. Some fell on lone unfortunate griffins. And then there are those that landed harmlessly on bare ground. All of them began to transform into Cloven ground troops, which then began to attack any griffin in sight.

One unlucky Cloven met my Leuchtenstark, cutting its head clean off its shoulders. More Cloven landed near the Blessed Guards. Ugly sounds of wet impact echoed in the air, along with short grunts of effort and whooshing wind. The warhammers were doing their jobs. I saw the Shield of Gryphon adapt well to breaks in their formation, falling in lines of two and surrounding any Cloven caught between them, killing it with ruthless efficiency. Black gore and broken chitin flew out fast. My wings flapped, keeping me upright to use both claws to move the majestic blade, slashing and stabbing every Cloven on my path, trailing a bright white-blue light in its wake.

Then… a deafening screech entered my senses, leaving my blood running cold.

“Incoming Overlord!” one of the griffins screamed.

Buzzing went louder, almost drowning out the sound of fighting. A tremendous impact shook the ground. I barely registered the flying rocks hitting my helmet, watching with horror as a large monster, at least twice the size of a griffin, emerged right in front of me. Unlike most Cloven, it did not take a griffin form. Instead, it was a broad shouldered monster, with a large diamond-shaped head; its jaw split apart vertically, sharp points filling its mouth . In place of claws, there were two heavy spikes, and instead of hind legs, it had an enormous tail that slithered around like a snake. Its yellow eyes looked everywhere for a moment, and then towards me. They seemed to glow.

The air suddenly smelled like blood, with images of me being torn to pieces creeping into my head. I saw myself beheaded, eviscerated, had my limbs torn, all while watching Lands of our Ancestors burning in the background. Sharp pain entered my head, like a needle of ice stabbing inside me. I wasn’t the only one feeling the Overlord’s invading Presence. Griffins nearby began to screech, trying to get away.

Was it projecting its thoughts? Was that how it controlled the Cloven? Before I could fathom an answer, it charged at me, its attack coming swift and strong. Blocking had my claw shake and feel sore and numb. It easily pushed me away and began to attack the still-stunned and still-screaming griffins around it. More and more images of death and my mangled body appeared in front of my eyes.

“Protect Lady Arnau!”

Shields of Gryphon appeared in front of me but didn’t position their shields in time before the Overlord rammed into their formation, scattering them. More shouts came as Guards flew forward with warhammers, only to be pushed back or stabbed. More griffin blood poured onto Fahlstein ground.

I couldn’t let that happen. I stood up and looked at the abomination in front of me. “Get out of our Lands!” I shouted before I charged. Leuchtenstark flew swift and true, but the Overlord slithered at unbelievable speeds. My sword hit nothing but air and his counter-attack came in swift and powerful. I hit the ground, but with effort, I stood up, screaming as I charged with my weapon. I cannot die. Fortis was coming. I have too much to live for.

Sharp hot pain entered my side. I blankly looked to my left. Why was the Overlord’s claw piercing me?

I heard someone shout. “Blessed Arnau!”

The Overlord screamed. Images of my bloodied side exploded in front of my eyes. The abomination was proud. At last, it has killed the last of the Blessed.

My beak opened but no sound came out. Not even when it started lifting me up, showing me as a trophy won. The pain was unbelievable. My eyes couldn’t focus anywhere. All I could see was more fighting, more killing. When I was brought back down, the Overlord screamed at me, its spittle flying everywhere, rot evident in its breath.

Everything began to fade. I closed my eyes.

My father was once again in front of me, as well as the other griffins with white eyes, watching. I wanted to reach out to them. I wanted to say something. However, no words came out. My forelegs were numb. I heard nothing but the beating of drums. Drums of… the Southern Guard?

The Overlord’s projections changed. Instead of the oppressive smell and presence of blood and death, I felt… confusion. Then fear. Opening my eyes, I saw the Overlord looking elsewhere. The images that bombarded me were now different. Gone were my bloody sides, replaced with the Southern Guard charging through Cloven numbers. Leading them… was Fortis.

“He’s here,” I croaked. The Overlord looked at me. It didn’t scream, it didn’t say anything. I gave him a smile. “You lose.” And with the last vestige of my strength, I swung Leuchtenstark high and fast, the white-blue blade hitting the surprised Overlord on its neck.

Everything turned glaring white once more. Around me, outlines of white-eyed griffins began to gather. My father looked at me, smiling.

“Daughter of the North, you have done well.”

I finally understood. The Ancestors have come for me. This was the end.

There was a nudge on my side. I heard voices. I felt thirsty.

“Blessed Arnau!” Victus called.

“Lady Arnau! Wake up! Fortis has arrived, as he promised!” the Tribune Tactica of the Free Gryphon declared. Was there sadness in her voice?

“Hear me,” I muttered weakly.

“My Blessed, don’t speak. Mages are coming!”

“I, the Blessed of the North, grant Pardon to Fortis of the East. This I declare.

“I, the Blessed of the North, holder of all Territories, also declare Fortis as my successor. May he be the light of hope, for the future of griffins. This I declare.” There was silence. I’d sigh if I could. “Victus, please help Fortis unite the griffins. Please help him build a better future.”

A moment passed before I finally heard him reply, “Yes, my Blessed. As you wish.”

I shall wait for you, Fortis, I thought as I reached towards the Ancestors.

I finally felt peace.

History may eventually retell many of things. I foresee epic tales of song, of how the griffins faced their enemies bravely and against all odds, defeated the unstoppable Cloven of the Sun. They will retell of how through the hottest fires, we griffins were forged and came out stronger.

However, let us not forget that our victory has never been so costly, for while we survived, we have lost. Our farmlands were razed, families displaced. We have lost unaccountable griffins—brave soldiers, loved ones, cubs and families. We must remember that they have bled to ensure our future.

From all this, I am tasked to lead us all. I take it gladly, in memory of those who have fallen. It is our duty to survive. It is our duty to remember. So we shall mend our wounds. We shall rebuild our homes. We shall prepare and survive the coming winter. And while I do not know what the future holds, I know this: we shall travel forward.

United.

—Primo Basileus, King Fortis of the Gryphon Kingdom

Author's Note:

Okay, this is it. My entry for the World-Building Alliance Prompt.

Thank you, TownCrier, Jack Pony, boredhooman, GIULIO, Permanent Temporary, and NoMoreSanity for looking through this and giving me their thoughts. Thank you, BrilliantPoint and Shira for the editing (more of the former). While I submit this now, I still await for Fallen_Stargazer for his expertise as I am going to submit this to EqD once the judging is done.

Enjoy, guys.

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