To bring forth something as terrible as the Great Fragmentation… even after we’ve warred against them for so long, I can scarcely believe the elves would go so far. This doesn’t just affect us humans. The world itself has been wounded in ways we can’t even begin to understand. Just what have they wrought upon us all..?

  -Excerpt from “Man and Elves: History of the Perpetual Conflict”

  Aria Tufani despised humans.

  And for good reason.

  From the moment she’d been born, she’d been a slave.

  Aria huffed and puffed as she brought the pickaxe down in a repeated, monotonous motion, her shackles clanging with the movement. Her thin muscles burned and ached, and she could feel she was dangerously dehydrated. The air was hot and dry, robbing her mouth and throat of what little moisture she had left with each breath. The intense sunlight of this accursed place felt as though it was scorching her skin. The Realm itself seemed to hate her.

  She wanted nothing more than to stop and rest.

  But she was quickly reminded of why she needed to push through the agony, as another slave even younger than her collapsed. One of the taskmasters noticed immediately, and barked out in their crude tongue, “Hey! Stop loafing around and get back to work, knife ears!”

  CRACK!!!

  Aria instinctively flinched as the cruel snapping of the whip resounded in the air as it struck the poor elf slave right on his back. The boy screamed in pain, and he desperately tried to push himself back up. He almost managed it, but his limbs gave out and he fell back onto the floor.

  The taskmaster, rather than looking angry, grinned sadistically, “Oh you are asking for it, aren’t you?”

  Crack! Crack!! CRACK!!!

  Three lashes struck the elf boy in an instant. The whip had moved so fast it seemed to blur. The boy couldn’t even scream as his already battered body registered the blows. Aria could see blood through the tears on the boy’s tunic.

  She grit her teeth. Oh how she wanted nothing more than to turn and drive the end of her pickaxe through the skull of the taskmaster. But to do that would result not just in her own death, but the death of who knows how many other slaves. And that was if the taskmasters were feeling merciful.

  After all, there were worse punishments than death...

  The wicked hume continued to whip the slave until another taskmaster stepped in, “Hey! Enough of that.”

  Of course, he didn’t say that out of the goodness of his heart. Humes had not of shred of kindness in them. A fact that Aria felt was further cemented as the second taskmaster reprimanded the first, “You whip it too much, and you’ll break it! Then we’ll be behind schedule!”

  “Who cares?” the first taskmaster sneered, “even if that happens, we can just blame it on the knife ears!”

  “Use that excuse too much and we’ll eventually have the Shadows personally investigating us. You want that? Because I sure don’t!”

  The first taskmaster shuddered at the mention of the Shadows. As did Aria. Her mother had told her stories of those demons. Aria had only ever seen one once. And that time had ended with an area littered with corpses and flooded with blood and entrails. That day was one of her many recurring nightmares.

  “Alright, I get it. Yeesh!” the first taskmaster turned to the other slaves, who had kept working trying desperately to ignore what was happening, and yelled, “if any of you tree lovers knows healing Arts, then hurry up and bring this piece of trash back to working condition.”

  Many of Aria’s fellow slaves seemed too scared to move. She was ashamed to admit she was one of them. They were all terrified that they’d do something that their slavers would find offensive, plausible or otherwise, and would then suffer their own punishment.

  Except for one.

  Anila Tufani, Aria’s own mother, stepped forward. Despite wearing the same tattered rags, despite being just as filthy and in as poor health as the rest of them, she somehow walked with grace, dignity, and strength. Her sapphire blue eyes still shone with willpower and defiance.

  The first taskmaster growled with disgusted recognition, “You...”

  Aria’s mother had a bit of a reputation. She wasn’t very well liked among the humes, and they already had no love for any of them. Yet there was also a strange tolerance from them towards her.

  Some of the time, anyway.

  The second taskmaster simply rolled his eyes, “Can it! Hurry up and fix the damn thing!”

  Anila subtly glared at them both, but her expression softened as she knelt next to the elf boy. Aria saw her mother take a deep breath. Anila’s lips moved in a whisper, a dull green glow beginning to emanate from her body. The light began to flow from her to the boy, now visible to all, even the humes. Aria saw some color and lucidity slowly return to the young elf.

  Her mother frowned, and Aria knew she was frustrated by the lack of potency in the healing Art. Their voiding collars were to blame for that.

  Before Anila could cast another healing Art. The second taskmaster cracked his own whip, “That should be good enough. Now, GET BACK TO WORK!”

  Anila quickly helped the boy back to his feet before gently pushing him back towards his original spot. Aria met her mother’s gaze briefly. No doubt she could see the rage smoldering in Aria’s eyes. She gave a subtle shake of her head, discouraging her from taking any rash action.

  Aria gave a subtle nod back, and her mother quickly returned to her position.

  The first taskmaster began cracking his whip, yelling at them all to work faster.

  Because of his mistake in taking his punishment of the elf boy too far, Aria and her fellow slaves were punished by being pushed even harder in their already exhaustive labor. All to make up for time the voided ashborn wasted.

  She felt her hatred of humes burn a little hotter that day.

  ***

  Aria did her best to choke down the disgusting slop that passed for dinner for the slaves. She sat in her corner of the slave quarters, which was nothing but a bunch of ruins. The “buildings” where they were kept were the only places they were allowed to sleep in. They were extremely run down. Most didn’t even have roofs and all were full of holes and cracked walls.

  Whenever she was inside the run down quarters, she found herself thankful that this Realm didn’t have what her mother called “winter.” According to Anila, before the Great Fragmentation, winter was a time of year where everything became extremely cold. Sometimes, it even got to the point where it “snowed.” That is, when ice crystals fell from the sky in the form of light white flakes.

  Aria had a hard time imagining what that was like. It was perpetually hot in this Realm due to all the Fire Ether concentrated here. Though, that was probably for the best. For if there was a winter season, many of the slaves would no doubt succumb to the cold. Aria was glad for that, because the cruel conditions they were forced to endure already took too many of them.

  It did rain on occasion, but those days were rare. And that rarity was another thing Aria was thankful for. It always became horrendously humid after rainfall, and that made the heat several times worse.

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  As she continued to force down her slop, she scanned the area to see if the boy that had been whipped earlier had returned. The young elf had been forced to work extra long as punishment for “wasting time.” Which meant he’d missed dinner. And the slavers weren’t about to go through the effort to give him food after the scheduled time.

  She felt guilty for not standing up for him, but she knew that if she had, things would have been much, much worse.

  She looked down at her barely edible dinner and decided to save the rest for the boy.

  She saw one of her people nearby and carefully approached, whispering in Elvish, “Hey.”

  The elf, a fully grown male, jumped, startled.

  Aria raised her hand in a placating manner, “Relax. It’s just me.”

  He relaxed a bit as he saw that she wasn’t one of the taskmasters, though he looked uneasy at her use of the Vindannan tongue. That was a given since they were only allowed to speak Durainese at all times. However, Aria’s use of their ancestral language was one of the many small ways she, and many of her people fought back against their slavers.

  “What… what is it?” he asked nervously in the tongue of the humes.

  “I’m looking for that elf boy that got whipped. You remember right? It happened earlier today. He missed dinner, so I want to give him some of my food.”

  The man looked crestfallen, and Aria felt her stomach sink.

  “I’m sorry, but that little one died just as he almost got through the last of his punishment. Overworking with no breaks… well, you know how often that takes us to the grave…”

  Aria felt a lump in her throat. What he said was true, too many of them died each day. Sometimes from overwork, sometimes by accident, and often many were killed intentionally by their slavers.

  She heard the elf gulp suddenly, and she looked up to see he had a hungry expression. She looked down at her bowl, and, with her appetite gone, she extended it to her fellow slave.

  His eyes lit up, but he restrained himself, “…are you certain?”

  She nodded.

  The elf relaxed and nodded. He slowly took the offered bowl, and whispered in Elvish, “Thank you…”

  Aria nodded, smiling at his use of the Vindannan language, “What’s your name?”

  The elf’s response was barely audible, “Connak…”

  “Nice to meet you, Connak. I’m Aria Tufani.”

  His eyes widened, “You mean you’re the daughter of the legendary Anila Tufani?!”

  Aria nodded, though she felt a bit embarrassed by his reaction. She thought she’d be used to that by now...

  She leaned in close, and whispered to him, “I know things are hard, but you need to stay strong. Don’t give in to the ashborn. No matter what.”

  Connak nodded vigorously. He looked at her with eyes shining with admiration despite being quite a bit older than her.

  She smiled, then left the elf to eat as she returned to her “bed.” It was nothing more than a blanket full of holes spread on the ground. Thankfully, her mother was on the one next to it.

  “Mom! You’re back!” Aria ran to her and hugged her tightly.

  Anila returned the embrace, “Yes, I am. Are you doing okay?”

  Aria pulled back, and sighed. She wanted to say, “Of course I’m not.”

  Out loud, however, she answered, “Could be worse.”

  Which was true. Especially for her. At least Aria had her mother. Most of the slaves here were purposefully separated from family. One thing the humes didn’t realize, however, was that while they could separate those related by blood, they couldn’t exactly separate all elf slaves from each other. And they all considered each other family. Aria felt blessed that she was still with her blood related mother, who had somehow kept their relation a secret from their slavers.

  Anila smiled proudly, “Make sure to remember that. Things could always be worse than they are. Things, in fact, used to be much worse back when we were first stranded here by the Great Fragmentation.”

  That event had taken place centuries before her own birth, but her mother had been alive when that catastrophe took place. It always felt… surreal, remembering how old her mother was. Aria herself was only fourteen years old. Anila Tufani, on the other hand, was over six hundred years old.

  To say elves had a long lifespan would be an understatement. According to her mother, they could live up to around nine hundred years old. Elves aged normally from the moment they were born, up until they reached their prime somewhere in their twenties. Then, they began to age very, very slowly. So slowly that an elf wouldn’t see gray hairs or wrinkles until their seventh century of life, after which the aging process would start to speed up. Being “only” six hundred years old, Anila looked like how a hume in their late thirties would.

  Aria’s mother was among the First Generation. That is to say, among the first elves enslaved after the Great Fragmentation. Somehow, Anila had survived and lasted to the present day. Not only that, but Aria could tell her mother still had fire in her eyes. Many elf slaves, most of whom were far younger than Anila, had broken and given up both hope and their elven pride.

  Not her mother.

  It made Aria proud to be her daughter.

  She sat next to Anila and put her head on her shoulder. Anila smiled, and stroked Aria’s dirty, long, tangled blonde hair. They sat in silence for a while, content to simply be able to be with each other. Aria wasn’t sure when she noticed it, but at some point she realized her mother was a bit tense.

  “Is everything alright, Mom?” she asked.

  Anila let out a sigh, “I’m afraid not. Do you remember that disturbance we sensed three months ago?”

  Aria frowned. That wasn’t a day she’d ever forget. On that day, for a brief moment, a sense of utter wrongness passed over her. And judging from every other elf’s reaction, it had passed through them all like a wave. Even the humes, with their dull and inferior senses, had seemed to notice that something odd had happened. Though, they were quick to shrug the feeling off and whip them back to work.

  “Yes, I do,” Aria shuddered at the memory, “I don’t think I could have forgotten that awful feeling if I tried. Why bring this up?”

  “It seems the Athanasius Dominion has summoned a new Champion.”

  Aria felt her blood go cold at the news.

  Her mother had told her stories of the last “Champion” that humanity had summoned. That one had been a demon made flesh, and had somehow, singlehandedly turned the tide of the war between humans and elves. She remembered her mother telling her stories about how that monster had slaughtered scores of her people. How he had grown in both political and combat power to the point where he became the first Emperor of his line after the previous ruler had been killed. That beast and the army he helped strengthen had been the reason why the Great Fragmentation had been necessary in the first place.

  And now a new one had been summoned...

  Aria began to tremble at the thought. Anila was quick to comfort her, whispering in her ear reassuringly, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  “How can you say that, Mom?” Aria whispered, her voice quivering.

  “Because Athanasius has yet to find a way to traverse the Void Sea. Without that, the other Realms remain safely out of his reach. Remember what I taught you? That was the whole purpose of the Great Fragmentation,” Anila reminded her, “our people in Vindanna are safe.”

  “...But what about us?”

  Anila didn’t answer immediately, but when she finally did, she said, “They wouldn’t slaughter us all. Right now they stand to lose more than they would gain if they did. Our forced labor still has value. We’ll be safe for now if we keep our heads down.”

  Aria didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.

  “How do you do it, Mom? You’ve been enslaved for centuries, and you haven’t broken. I’ve only been alive for fourteen years, and I already feel like I’m approaching my limit.”

  “Oh, Aria,” Anila tightened her embrace, “in spite of everything I’ve been through, I’m able to keep pushing forward because someone has to. For our people, for the other races… and most importantly...”

  Anila kissed Aria’s forehead, “Most importantly… I can find the strength to keep going because of you, my daughter. My precious daughter…”

  Aria hugged her mother tightly, “The feeling is mutual, Mom…”

  They stayed silently hugging one another for a while longer, appreciating every moment they had. Finally, Anila pulled away, “It’ll be dark soon. How are you doing physically? And don’t lie to me. I need to know the truth.”

  Aria took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, evaluating her current condition. She was tired and every joint and muscle ached.

  But it could be worse.

  Aria opened her eyes and relayed her evaluation to her mother.

  Anila nodded and asked, “Think you could push through it?”

  She nodded. She always did, and had long since grown used to doing so.

  “Good,” Anila looked up to the sky, “it’ll be dark soon. We’ll sneak out and continue your training.”

  Aria smiled, her heart pounding with rare excitement. Her mother’s training was one of the few things in her life she could look forward to and take joy in.

  She couldn’t wait.