Eternal Starlight: Celestial City

Chapter 12

As they soared through the air, Xander and Thorin took the forefront of their group. Suddenly, the atmosphere darkened ominously; Elowen glanced around, her gaze falling to the barren landscape below, devoid of vibrant trees or lush grass. She squinted at the desolate scene, her heart heavy with foreboding. Just as she was about to voice her concerns, Xander's voice broke through the tension. "We're here."

They spotted a massive hill, their destination, and began their careful descent from the sky. Once on the ground, they crawled forward to get a better view of the shadow-fae camp that lay ahead, a territory thick with tension and danger.

Before them, the shadow-fae armies appeared poised for battle, ready to unleash chaos upon anyone who dared to cross their path.

A sense of urgency washed over Elowen, compelling her to whisper, "Hide your wings."

Xander, Thorin, Tauriel, and Elowen quickly concealed their wings, their eyes fixed on the shadow-fae as they sharpened their weapons and prepared for conflict.

Suddenly, a tall figure emerged from a nearby tent, his broad shoulders framed by flowing midnight hair and piercing dark eyes. He inhaled deeply, his voice booming, "WE HAVE COMPANY!"

Xander's eyes widened in alarm. "They know we're here! We need to leave, now!" His voice trembled with concern for Elowen and his sister, fully aware of the fate that awaited them if captured.

Thorin and Tauriel took off into the sky, but as Xander followed, a piercing scream shattered the air—Elowen had been seized by the shadow-fae warriors just as she attempted to launch herself upward.

"ELOWEN!" Xander shouted, panic and fury surging through him as he turned back toward her. Elowen lay on the ground, her face a mask of determination as she urged him, "NO, XANDER, GO! GO NOW!" The iron shackles binding her wrists rendered her powerless, a cruel reminder of her precarious situation.

Xander hesitated, his heart torn between the promise of vengeance he silently made to the shadow-fae and Elowen's desperate plea. Ultimately, he obeyed, soaring away with Thorin and Tauriel, leaving her behind.

A sharp clap echoed through the air, drawing Elowen's attention as the Lord of the Shadowlands addressed her with a smirk, "Ah, you must be Elowen; I've been anticipating your arrival. And my, you are a beautiful thing, aren't you?" He said, his eyes glinting with interest as he licked his lips. Her gaze met his, seething with unrestrained loathing, a fire igniting in her eyes that spoke volumes of the animosity she felt towards him.

He regarded her with a sinister grin, his eyes glinting with malice. "What’s wrong, darling? Struggling to utilize your cherished abilities?" he mocked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Elowen clenched her jaw, the iron shackles biting into her skin, igniting a fire of pain that only fueled her anger. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"What do I want?" he echoed, a chilling laugh escaping his lips. "It’s less about what I desire and more about what I require from you. But first, let me properly introduce myself. I am Wraithkin, and it’s a delight to finally make your acquaintance." His tone was deceptively casual, as if they were old friends rather than captor and captive.

He gestured to his warriors with a commanding air. "Take her to my tent," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for dissent.

The captors pulled Elowen relentlessly toward Wraithkin's tent, her fierce resistance evident as she struggled against their hold. Her voice rang out in a desperate fury, echoing through the camp, "LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" Each word was laced with defiance, a testament to her unyielding spirit as she fought to break free from their grasp.

Wraithkin pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation etched across his face. "Someone silence her!" he snapped, his patience wearing thin.

One of the warriors, with a swift and brutal motion, struck her with a punch that sent her sprawling to the ground. Another warrior hoisted her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

"Ah, thank you, Cimmerian," Wraithkin said, a note of satisfaction in his voice as he strode forward.

They brought her into his tent, where he commanded, "Leave those iron shackles on her. Notify me as soon as she comes to." Cimmerian unceremoniously let her fall to the floor, the sound echoing with a disturbing thud that reverberated in the stillness of the space.

"Yes, My Lord," the men replied in unison, their voices a chorus of obedience.

Elowen winced as she started to come to and attempted to sit up; a sharp pain throbbed in her head and face while her body felt as if a stampede of wild horses had trampled it. After a moment of struggle, she finally steadied herself, regaining her bearings.

"Are you alright?" a voice inquired, drawing her attention. She turned to see a man with striking midnight black hair and warm honey-colored eyes gazing at her with concern.

"Yes, I believe so. It feels like a herd of horses just ran over me," Elowen confessed, her voice tinged with fatigue.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that; they might exploit your vulnerability," the man cautioned. "What is your name?" he asked, his tone shifting to one of curiosity.

"Elowen," she replied, pausing briefly before continuing, "And you?"

"I know of you; you're the High Lady of Celestial City, and rightly so. My name is Riven," he introduced himself with a hint of admiration.

"What brings you here, Riven?" Elowen inquired, intrigued by his presence.

"I was spying on the camp, and I got caught to see what Wraithkin was up to," Riven explained, his expression growing serious.

Elowen squinted at him, her interest ignited. "What do you suppose he’s planning?"

"Ah, that’s a secret I’ll keep to myself while you unravel the mystery," Wraithkin said as he stepped through the flaps of his tent.

Both Riven and Elowen shot him a glare filled with disdain. "Oh come now, don’t give me that look, Elowen," Wraithkin chided, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval.

"Well, since you're giving me that look, I suppose I can share," he said, rolling his eyes, though his tone was laced with a mix of satisfaction and excitement. "Elowen, you are destined to bear me formidable heirs. I've heard tales of your abilities, and together, our powers would create an unstoppable lineage," Wraithkin declared with a gleeful tone.

Elowen's laughter erupted, igniting Wraithkin's fury, while Riven's concern for her deepened as he grasped the implications of Wraithkin's words. "What’s so funny?" Wraithkin snapped, irritation creeping into his voice. "If you’re truly as powerful as you claim, then why am I shackled like this? Is it for your safety, or perhaps for your men’s? Or maybe it’s both? You’re nothing but a pitiful 'Shade Lord'—oh, I meant 'Shadow Lord.' My apologies," Elowen retorted with biting sarcasm.

Wraithkin's laughter turned dark as he approached her, unleashing a torrent of blows that sent her crashing to the ground, mercilessly kicking her until his rage was sated. Grabbing her hair, he leaned in close, his voice a chilling promise, "You’ll wish for death by the time I’m finished with you, Elowen." With that, he released her and strode out of the tent.

Riven watched in sheer horror, a wave of anger surging within him as he moved closer to her, desperate to help. Elowen struggled to regain her composure, her face unrecognizable from the brutal assault. "Stay with me, Elowen," Riven urged softly, trying to keep her conscious. "I’m sor... I’m sorry, Xander, I..." she stammered, blood spilling from her mouth. "I... should've... listened..." she finally managed to say.

Riven found himself in a whirlwind of confusion, completely unaware of Xander's identity or the reason behind Elowen's distressing words. The only certainty he held was the harrowing reality that Elowen had come perilously close to losing her life. In a desperate attempt to comfort her, he whispered soothing words, assuring her that everything would be all right. As she rested her battered and bloodied face on his lap, Riven felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness; his hands were bound, rendering him unable to wipe away the crimson stains that marred her delicate features. The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon him, igniting a fierce determination to protect her and seek justice for the violence she had endured.