Chapter 1: Heirs of the Valley

EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series

Dog barking shattered the silence of the dense forest. The young stag broke through the brush with the frenzied hound close on its heels. The exuberant canine gave chase, relishing running with its quarry, unlike the two men who followed close behind.

Disappearing, the stag bounded with the unrelenting dog following, crashing through the branches that tore at its coat. The two men, panting from the excursion, stopped their run, watching as the deer and the dog retreated from view.

“He’s going deeper into the forest!” cried the one hunter as he listened to the frantic barking in the distance. “If we don’t call him back, we’ll never find him!”

The other hunter lurched forward and leaned on his bow, struggling to catch his breath. “Let him,” he huffed to his brother. “Maybe that stag will die of exhaustion before any of our arrows do it in.”

Staring in the direction the dog had run, the younger of the two grunted, relieved at still being able to pick up the fading commotion. So long as they could hear the dog, it meant the chase continued with a chance they would be able to catch up. Hopefully, their morning would not be completely wasted.

Trying to put distance between itself and the relentless hound, the stag continued its run. Darting with the single-mindedness of the prey animal it was, it attempted to escape, utterly unaware of the something else that tracked it. Of the large figure seeming to keep pace with unnatural agility and stealth. Still retaining its focus on avoiding the dog and the hunters that followed behind, the stag made another desperate leap to lengthen the gap.

The large blade appeared out of the bramble with a swiftness that even the most prepared would have found impossible to avoid. Hot blood splattered against the trees. Caught completely off guard, the stag didn’t even have time to cry out as its life ended in an instant. It was a quick kill, but by no means a clean one.

The two hunters continued their reluctant rest, readying themselves to return to their hunt when a whine cut short pierced the air. Startled at the sound, the young men shot back onto their feet.

“Oh, great!” the hunter growled with both anger and concern as he clutched his bow tight. “The dumb beast got himself gored!” His brother grimaced in response.

Bolting toward the noise, they tried to control their panic at the thought of losing their hound to their carelessness. “Father is going to skin us alive if anything happened to the dog, and we don’t have venison to show for it!”

They ran until the flattened ground caught their feet, almost making them slip. The grass was black with what they thought was fresh mud until the dank, metallic smell wafted into their nostrils. The trail of dark slick ended at the eviscerated remains of their hunting dog. Gore fell freely from its wide-open belly, revealing that this was no mere wound from the antlers of a stag fighting for escape.

Already horrified by the dog’s corpse, they could not have anticipated the vision that crossed their eyes when they both stared ahead of them.

The stag lay mutilated not far ahead, a massive spearhead roughly digging into its flesh. A low guttural snarl filled their ears as the hunched-over dragon gripped the spear tighter and slowly turned its yellow gaze, baring even yellower teeth. This was not the wild wyvern of myth but a creature from a different, darker place. Animals that lived deep in the far mountains but now out in the open in challenge to the world they were not supposed to be in.

With rust-colored skin stretched tight over rippling muscles, it sported no wings, instead dressed in what once would have been gleaming armor and scale mail, battered and weathered and tinted with extreme age. The long spear it held felt redundant, if not ridiculous, as the hind feet it walked on sported curved, lethal claws. Its golden eyes widened, pupils contracting into slits, as it lost its concentration on the stag and hyper-focused on the men intruding on its hunt.

With shaking, terror-stricken hands, the hunter snatched an arrow from his quiver, muscle memory overriding any sense he might have had, completely overthinking that he was able to take down such a thing with a mere bow.

“Dragons!” he cried, unable to find any other words to leave his mouth. The raptor whipped its tail as it turned directly at the brothers, its snarl bearing jagged teeth at them, with clawed hands tightening on the spear. The hunter readied his bow while his brother backed away, hoping the more primal reaction of running would be more than enough to help survive the encounter. But the sliver of optimism faded as he met his own snarling shadow with yellow eyes.

There were two of them.

The raptors jumped with a lightness that countered their massive size, blurs of metal and scale, both spears cutting the air before meeting their marks.

The brothers never returned home.

* * *

“What are you waiting for?”

The voice rang in annoyance and exasperation throughout the courtyard, the weathered stone seeming to repeat it as if no one heard it the first time. The elf stood poised with his wooden training sword, digging his feet into the pounded dirt beneath him, readying for an attack that would not come.

Across from him prepared his opponent, a young woman, clutching the matching pair of the training weapon the elder elf held. Rocking on the balls of her bare feet, she ignored the sweat rolling from her brow, matting the loose, long brown hair that fell in her face, threatening to obstruct her vision. Straining with concentration at the figure yelling at her, she did not move.

Standing beside the pillars marking the perimeter of the courtyard, three younger elves watched with curiosity and ambivalence, wondering when the human was going to strike but not entirely caring about the outcome. The older of the trio folded his arms against his chest, flaunting the impatience his flanking companions didn’t seem to have.

“The mule can’t hold that shape and fight at the same time,” the blond boy at his right muttered, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Well, she did take the shape of a human, and we know how weak they are,” the other on his left replied.

The center elf adjusted his arms, not taking his eyes off the scene before him. He gave a little sneer. “Humans can’t help not having magic. I don’t know about her, though. Nolan will make hash of her, for certain.”

Despite her concentration, the comment caused a reaction, her brow furrowing as she tilted her head, glaring at them. The blond runt Bowen. The meek, dark-haired Conner. And front and center, the leader of this pack of three elvish jackals—Jared.

Her teacher had enough. “Egoraven! Pay attention!” he barked. “Are you going to listen to gossip or train like you’re supposed to?” Nolan raised his sword at the girl.

Startled by his response, Egoraven perched on her toes, digging them in for balance as she prepared her weapon.

“ATTACK!” the elder elf roared, tired of the entire performance, or lack thereof.

As if a spring let loose, the young woman leaped forward in an unguarded assault, the need to give her teacher what he wanted more crucial than sparring correctly, her mind reeling with the insults hurled at her.

Almost sighing at the unhinged charge projecting her every move, Nolan danced around her, ramming his wooden sword into her unprotected midsection. The blow doubled Egoraven over in a surprise she had no right to have. Taking advantage of her state, he fell another blow across her back with a loud thwack, then ended the lesson just as quickly as it started with a strike to the face, finally knocking her to the ground.

“How many times do you have to waste my time with the same performance, Eigr’vn?” Nolan spat her name in its unused yet correct high-elvish dialect as if expecting she would pay more attention if he did. He stood over the fallen girl, his breath and body relaxed and showing not an ounce of exertion, as if he hadn’t just beaten her senseless.

The three boys snickered, knowing the word also meant “beloved” in the ancient version of their language. As the human writhed and groaned, the wind completely knocked out of her; beloved was the last thing she was between them.

“How can you not have basic control of your ability?”

The question was answered with an entwining golden wave sparkling as she rolled over. The magic did its will, with fingers fusing into three on each hand, bare feet melting away into cloven hooves crowned by brown fur. A long lion-like tail sprouted from the small of her back and ended with the appearance of a shimmering spiral horn high above her brow near the center of her head.

Letting out a loud, raspy gasp, the once-human braced herself, digging her hooves and fingers into the ground as she slowly pushed herself up, anger welling on her face. The unicorn girl kept her gaze from her teacher as she stood on shaky legs.

“You always make me shift into my human form!” Egoraven snapped. “It requires a lot of concentration and…”

“And many excuses, apparently,” Nolan replied, finishing the thought in a way she did not intend. “It is your duty to hone your skills. You cannot hide behind your royal blood to justify your incompetence.” The elder elf did not try to hide the scorn in his voice.

The unicorn went to reply but was interrupted by an explosion of anger.

“I resent the claim of royalty!” cried the eldest of the three elf boys; Jared’s composed demeanor exchanged for rage. “Our families have served the king for generations, yet her presence is cherished before ours?” He bared his teeth, his eyes almost wild, staring at her through red-brown hair.

The unicorn girl snarled back, her large, mule-like ears pinning as she poised for a fight. “My position in the king’s court is clear and valid,” she replied, clawing at her waist as if trying to hold herself back. “If your sense of entitlement is bruised, then take it up with the king himself. But as you’re a low-ranking noble, you’ll need to make an appointment!” She held a tight frown as she basked in the pettiness of her retort.

Egoraven knew her comment was not just a dig at his familial rank. Rumors had swirled for years that Jared was the firstborn son of the crown prince Rillian, born of a human servant as all the elves in the castle were. But her sting came from the barb that if this rumor were true, Jared was a secret heir neither his sire nor grandsire deemed worthy enough to claim.

If the verbal strike met its mark, its only proof was the slight curl of a wicked smile on his lip. “I have a name fitting of your royal blood,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Egoraven, Queen of Livestock!”

His two toadies laughed as the unicorn girl seethed.

In a rush of movement, Egoraven lunged, only to be quickly grabbed by her teacher, his hand tight and fingers entangled in the fine fur of her wrist. Her cheeks flushed, and her blood racing, the unicorn yanked against the grip, knowing full well no one in that courtyard, including the elder elf, was any match for her unusual strength.

“Fight me now, and we’ll see who’s still laughing!” she bellowed to Jared, who readied himself in case the unicorn succeeded in following her intention. However, reason flashed the second the words poured out of her mouth and tempered the want to push that boundary. Instead of giving in, Egoraven allowed herself to be pulled back, Nolan spinning her around to face him.

“You forget your place, princess!” he scolded the girl, who knew she had no choice but to accept it. “Your challenges are with yourself, and until you remember that, you are nothing but—"

“…keeping a teacher from tending to his pupils.”

The color drained from Nolan’s face when he heard the calm yet stern voice in the courtyard, like a bell that only needed to ring once. He snatched his hand away from the wrist he held, fussing nervously along with the elf boys as they stood at attention. Finally free from his grasp, Egoraven turned to face their new watchers.

King Gardowin stood at the entrance of the courtyard, standing tall and regal in voluminous violet robes lined with fur. A jeweled golden circlet, glittering in the morning sunlight, rested above his brow and through russet gossamer hair.

A large shadow appeared, joining the elf king, a black ghost with a crown of his own in the form of a long ivory horn. Where Nolan sucked in his breath, Egoraven lit up and gave a broad smile at seeing her father, the unicorn king Alaric.

“Sires! I had no idea you were joining us,” Nolan almost stuttered. “I would have scheduled a more important fencing lesson.” He wondered how much the two kings had witnessed.

“All lessons are important,” King Gardowin answered, keeping his eyes on the teacher. “Especially to those waiting for theirs.” His gaze then trailed to the three boys standing quietly aside, looking but not making eye contact with any of them.

With a nod, Nolan acknowledged his king and went to continue his class. His lack of final acknowledgment of the unicorn girl relieved her. At least her lesson was over for the day.

Stepping forward, Egoraven brought her fist over her heart, bowing in respect to Gardowin. Then, she gave her father a deeper salute, her eyes shimmering with love and gratitude for him. Alaric returned her smile and nodded, his blue eyes also shining with his love for her.

The unicorn girl took her leave of the courtyard but not without sharing a boastful smirk as she passed the boys, especially making sure Jared noticed, which he indeed did. He was able to hold his tongue, but his dark eyes shot daggers.

Normalcy returned to the courtyard; the two kings turned away.

“Nolan does not have the patience Egoraven needs for her training,” Alaric commented.

Gardowin fussed with the cuff of his shirt peeking out from under the sleeve of his robe. “It is not patience he is sorely lacking in,” he replied, uninterested in small talk. Turning to the black unicorn, he brought the conversation where he wanted it to go.

“Rillian returns today. Have you thought about what we have discussed, Alaric?”

 The unicorn nodded as they both slowly made their way through the corridor. “I have.”

“Egoraven has long reached the age of maturity for both humans and elves. She should be seriously thinking about her position in the castle. Aimless squiring is not a place befitting a princess.”

Alaric turned his head just enough to give Gardowin a look out of the corner of his eye. “Just as aimless tournament is unbefitting a prince.”

The elf tightened his lips at the comment but pressed on. “Rillian leaves because he feels no ties to his roots, despite the will of the valley.” He fussed with his cuffs again. “I admired it at first and was willing to encourage it, but now…”

“But now that Egoraven’s magic is manifesting…” Alaric interrupted. “To have a glimpse of gaining back the power bred out of your people centuries ago...”

“Unlike your kind. Retaining your magic despite dalliances with mortal creatures.” Gardowin tried not to make it sound like an accusation but failed with his curtness.

It was Alaric’s turn to be insulted.

Gardowin continued. “We have taken care of the First Unicorn’s kin as much as her heirs take care of ours. Egoraven and Rillian’s pairing would make our families literally stronger instead of symbolic.” He turned to the unicorn. “What legacy does Egoraven have in the meadow? She is a young woman, not an animal.”

“And what legacy would your people give, Gardowin?” Alaric countered. “I know what they call her. I see their polite neglect as well as their blatant challenges.” He swished his lion-like tail.

“Lilith and her sycophants haven’t done the same?” The elf let out a loud breath through his nose, frustrated at the tit-for-tat. “I cannot control my people any more than you can control your Queen Mare.” He held in check his want to plead. “Edinrahn stands alone in this world of Men, and we must ensure a strong foundation to survive. We have allowed our children to ignore their birthrights long enough.”

Alaric lost patience with the elf king but did not let on. The conversation had been a repeated, sour issue since Egoraven reached the age of ten. Gardowin had proposed that their children be married, even if the age difference was immense, with the prince being well into his first century.

Each year since that first request, Alaric refused to consent, refusing to see his strange daughter as a broodmare for the elvish court, especially as a child. And with each passing year, Gardowin pushed harder. As Egoraven matured, the more insistent he became, as if each baby not birthed by her in that time was magic lost to his people.

It didn’t help that Alaric was not fond of the prince, Rillian being physically handsome yet repulsive in demeanor. However, this was the only choice he had. Gardowin was right. Egoraven was a young woman of two worlds, half human, half unicorn, belonging to both but also of neither. She was no longer a child, and all she had ever known was the valley. There was nothing for her outside. And as she turned into her nineteenth year, the less excuses Alaric had to keep the desperate elf king at bay.

“And what of the families preparing their daughters for their own presentations to the prince?” The unicorn felt he was grasping at straws at this point.

Gardowin nodded, seeing the crack in Alaric’s shield. “They will accept my proclamation,” he replied confidently.

Alaric’s ears twitched, taking note of the open door before him. “I will speak to Egoraven, but I will not push her.”

“I have every faith in your persuasiveness.”

The unicorn sighed, taking a last look at the elf king before bidding his leave. “Have faith in yourself. Rillian is a much stronger personality to fight against.”

With that, the black stallion vanished into the dark corridor, leaving Gardowin behind to relish his small victory.

* * *

Edinrahn.

Gift of the First Unicorn Arias to her kind, the Arisyan, the unicorns, after defeating Miraon, the First Dragon. It was said that the Eihdans, the elves, were welcomed into the valley when they were cast from their faraway home for reasons no elf nor unicorn could remember.

No mortal man dares enter her lands, and the surrounding kingdoms give it a wide berth. The magic runs deep and strong, and all who enter become trapped for eternity. Just as those who live within its borders also cannot leave without being called back by the Pull, a siren song no one has ever been able to resist.

A castle with no need for walls or gates, it grew and expanded over the millennia, the elves living their decadent lives at the expense of their human caretakers and unicorn guardians. A bounty of territory too dangerous for the surrounding mortal lords to even consider looking in its direction; however, not enough to discourage those who would come in the hopes of seeing an elf or a unicorn and, to their peril, succeeding.

Yet rumblings were churning in the shadows of the distant mountains. Of those who would take that chance to look. To dare see the valley not as a forbidden fruit but as a prize ripe for the taking.

* * *

“Damn that human form!”

The tree branch in Egoraven’s hand whipped the air as she fenced an invisible enemy with aggressive lunges and parries she preferred to have used against the boys whose laughter continued echoing in her mind. As she continued her drills, unicorns basking in the warmth of sunlight and an eternal spring watched her with lazy curiosity.

This was nowhere near the first time the unicorn girl would fume and practice in the meadow surrounded by her kin, but it was still odd enough for the young unicorns. One yearling of deep ebony and bronze followed her every move while his herdmates napped and grazed.

Stopping to catch her breath from the exertion, Egoraven clutched the branch with both hands and took another defensive stance. Her brow furrowed as she tightened her grip. “I could have beaten all of them if Nolan didn’t insist on it! And so do they,” she ended in a whisper.

The black and bronze unicorn twitched his ears and tipped his head. “You’re mumbling to yourself again,” he said, stepping towards her. “I take class didn’t go well?”

 Egoraven relaxed at the sound of the voice, lowering the false weapon. “Am I that obvious, Black?” she answered with a smile as she turned to face him.

The unicorn chuckled. “Even if you weren’t, I am your brother, after all. And that makes me especially sensitive to your moods.” Blackavar pranced closer, swishing his tail and nuzzling her playfully. “Come with us. I promise we’ll be more fun than those dour Eihdans.” The other unicorns began to gather around at the invitation.

Egoraven regarded the stick in her hand. “I can’t. I have to practice.”

“For what?”

“To help protect the valley.”

A pale, ginger-maned unicorn came up from behind. “From what?” her cousin Dinah asked with utter confusion. “Alaric says we’re completely safe as long as we stay here.”

Throwing the stick away, Egoraven’s face went still and solemn. “You’re not safe…” she replied with a concerned tone, then spun around with clawed hands, her tail swishing. “Not from me!” She let out an exaggerated roar.

The unicorns squealed in delight as they jumped and danced around the girl, chasing each other in an impromptu game of tag. Egoraven swirled, weaving through her herdmates, overcome with the joy she only seemed to feel with them. Reaching out, she grasped a handful of bronze fur. Blackavar came to a sudden halt as the others continued their chase.

“I told you I could catch you!” Egoraven laughed as she held on to her brother’s tail.

“That was luck!” Blackavar protested. “Everyone knows I’m the fastest runner here.”

A grey yearling bounded up at the boast. “Try again to see if it was really luck!”

Blackavar tossed his mane. “Yes, let’s try again.” He turned his eye to Egoraven. “But do it as one of us.”

The meadow went silent.

“What do you mean by that?” Egoraven sputtered as her ears drooped, taken aback by her brother’s request.

Cousin Dinah was just as surprised. “Yeah, what do you mean, Blackavar? She’s already one of us.”

The black yearling nuzzled his half-human sister. “I mean, as an Arisyan,” he answered with growing excitement. “Your other shape.”

Egoraven did not share Blackavar’s sentiment, shoving his tail away and tightly folding her arms. “You want me to shapeshift?” Whatever good mood she was in was gone with that one word. “Don’t the Eihdans have enough fun at my expense?” She turned her back on him.

Blackavar’s ears twitched as her reaction was not the one he was expecting. “Do you think I’m asking this to mock you?” He gently pressed his velvet muzzle against her.

Egoraven couldn’t hold her anger and let out a nervous sigh. “But I’m not good at it,” she whispered back.

Blackavar nuzzled her again. “Because you practice everything else but that.”

The yearlings watched as the black unicorn comforted his odd sister, releasing the tension his request tightened her in. Egoraven hugged his neck, and Blackavar returned nothing but patience, feeling how the magic in her was growing like a sapling, sparking and curling through her veins, still trying to find its place. The magic in unicorns was pure instinct, but in Egoraven, training was essential if she was going to learn how to control it. Blackavar knew he wasn’t as strong or skilled as their father Alaric when it came to such matters, but surely asking his sister to try just a little would do no harm.

They separated, and Egoraven stood back, taking a deep breath as she prepared herself. Blackavar stood close and nodded. “Now concentrate,” he started. “Just relax and imagine…”

Egoraven closed her eyes and did what she was told, reaching deep within her. Finding the sapling of enchantment that was her birthright, she hesitated, then delicately encouraged it. Instead of forcing the transformation as Nolan would have demanded, she nurtured and coaxed it until it waved like river water over stones. Feeling a sudden tingling surge, Egoraven heightened her concentration, barely hearing Blackavar still speaking.

“Imagine how it feels… how it looks…”

A golden wave began to twist, making the unicorn girl shimmer.

“Let the magic do its will.”

Her horn sparkled.

Egoraven awoke from her trance to a chorus of gasps and Blackavar beaming with pride. At first, she felt no different, wondering if the spell had even worked. But the reaction of her audience proved otherwise. Taking a hesitant step, she realized what she had done.

“Wow…!”

The unicorns stared in awe. Before them stood an awkward little thing, a white unicorn with a brown mane, still trying to find the equilibrium in her new body. Blackavar slowly stepped closer, not wanting to startle his sister and break the spell as she regained herself.

“I… I don’t know how long I can keep this shape,” Egoraven whispered to him with worry in her eyes. “It doesn’t feel steady.”

Blackavar took a moment to assess the magic. It was unstable, but only because she didn’t know how to control it. Only regular dedicated practice would strengthen her confidence. With more encouragement, he had Egoraven move around a bit. She walked around like a newborn faun, stumbling and ungainly but quickly finding her footing. The yearlings followed and imitated her steps, reassuring Egoraven that they were there to support her, unlike the elves from earlier in the day. With an exaggerated gait, Egoraven stretched her legs, lifting her hooves until she felt herself feel like herself, just in a different body. The better she moved, the more excited everyone became. For the first time, her budding magic felt like it could genuinely be fun instead of feeling like a punishment.

Blackavar pranced and raised his head high. “Now… what was everyone saying about luck?” Kicking his hooves, he galloped off.

Shrill neighs rang in the air as the yearlings gave chase. Egoraven found herself alone, watching the unicorns continue their play. Overwhelmed, she cried out a shrill whinny of her own and galloped towards them.

The unicorns frolicked throughout the meadow, their immortal lives showing not one ounce of worry for anything. There wasn’t anything for them but to be carefree, to do nothing but enjoy the long spring of their youth, and for Egoraven to feel the joy of being surrounded by family and friends who loved her. The fight in the courtyard was almost turning into a forgotten memory.

Almost.

Egoraven galloped blindly, not paying attention to how the soft grass beneath her hooves turned into the worn path of the main road. She continued her run until a glance out of the corner of her eye revealed a large form appearing before her.

“You insolent idiot!” she heard loud in her ears, followed by a screeching neigh.

Hooves skidded on the rocky ground of the road, Egoraven barely avoiding crashing into the rearing second unicorn, a large bronze mare shining brilliantly with animosity. Completely losing her footing, Egoraven flipped, her back striking the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her and out of the spell.

“EGORAVEN!”

The unicorn girl gasped, the pain in her back sharp but fading as her magic now worked to heal whatever damage the fall might have caused. The yearlings galloped up and stopped short as the bronze mare circled to stop them. Blackavar raised his head in surprise as the other yearlings cowered.

“Good morning, Queen Mare Lilith,” they answered in unison, their voices more filled with fear than respect.

Lilith scowled at the group, ignoring Egoraven’s slow attempt at sitting up. “Is this the way for us to behave?” She focused primarily on the black unicorn with the matching bronze mane. “You should not be so close to the road.”  Lilith stomped her hoof as if its mere existence was a personal insult. “And you, Blackavar, what have I told you?”

Blackavar’s ears drooped as he glanced over to Egoraven, still on the ground. She did not look at him. “I was just teaching Egoraven…”

“This is especially no way for the heir of Edinrahn to behave,” Lilith snapped back to her son. Blackavar shrank before his mother, knowing that no discussion would be had.

“Go back to the herd,” the bronze mare commanded to the yearlings, but mainly to Blackavar.

“Yes, mother,” Blackavar meekly answered. He peeked at his fallen sister, catching her eye, then turned away, diminished.

“It’s okay, Black. See you later,” Egoraven called to him, then frowned.

The young unicorns shuffled quietly under Lilith’s strict glare, making sure not to look back lest they incur more of her ire.

The yearlings gone, Egoraven made her attempt to stand.

“You should stay as you are. Rolling in the dirt suits you.”

Egoraven felt Lilith’s stare turn from strict to hateful, and her own mood turned sour as a result. “You didn’t need to chase them away,” she replied with controlled anger.

Lilith arched her neck and flared her mane at hearing the girl’s voice. “It is my responsibility to watch and lead the herd as Arias would have.”

The condescending tone was too much for her to handle. “I am as much part of the herd as you are,” Egoraven loudly shot back.

The mare flew into a rage. “Being Alaric’s half-breed daughter doesn’t make you heir!” She stomped her front hooves, daring the girl to try her further. “Blackavar is full Arisyan, and that right belongs to him alone!”

“Don’t drag him into this!” Egoraven shouted, standing and stabbing a golden finger towards her.

“I have every right!” Lilith screeched. “This valley is not yours!”

Egoraven bared her teeth as she dug her hooves into the ground and balled her fingers into tight fists, seriously contemplating taking up Lilith on her threat.

“Don’t you have someone else to lord over, Lilith?”

Lilith spun in the direction of the intruder, not seeing Egoraven’s face brighten at the sound of the new voice.

A grey and black stallion sauntered up to the two, showing no reason to be anything but tranquil in the face of the scowl he received. Lilith flipped her mane, suddenly unconcerned about the argument she seemed rather intent on growing violent over. “Amadaeo, I was just leaving.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“Don’t think this is over.”

“With you, it never is.” Amadaeo watched her with uninterested eyes, long bored with her histrionics. Not wanting to argue with Alaric’s elder brother, Lilith gave a loud, frustrated snort and trotted off. As he watched the bronze mare disappear back into the wood, he felt a tight embrace around his neck.

“Thank you, uncle,” Egoraven sighed into his black mane. “I was afraid I was about to say something I shouldn’t.”

The unicorn smiled and nuzzled her. “As opposed to Lilith, who always says things she shouldn’t.” He gave a little sigh. “She forgets we’re not Eihdans with all their obsession with pomp and rank.”

Egoraven continued her hug, drinking in the scent of lavender from his dapple coat. “She harbors such anger, more than I’ve seen anyone carry. What Alaric sees in her is beyond me.”

Amadaeo nickered in response. “You know better than that. She is the most powerful mare in the valley and your father the most powerful stallion. It’s how we keep our magic strong. It’s why the Eihdans resent us.” They started walking along the edge of the road as he continued. “They forget their own ancestry, then blame us for not forgetting ours.”

Egoraven thought about her brief stint at transformation. “I felt Blackavar’s magic when I changed. It was as if we were entwined, and he was helping me keep my form. He will most certainly be a powerful stallion.”

“Alaric’s blood binds you both,” Amadaeo answered without any hint of surprise. “Your link with Blackavar has always been strong, I’m sure even more so in your full form.”

The unicorn girl grew melancholy. “I just wish my magic were a fraction of his. Changing is easy. It’s keeping the shape I can’t seem to do. It takes so little to break the spell.” She let out a sigh. “I’m sure many in the herd are glad about that.”

They stopped to watch another group of unicorns grazing among the trees. “Don’t worry about what the herd thinks. They follow your father, not Lilith. And not as many listen to her as you might think. Your mother had a strange saying that only now makes sense to me. A boiling teapot whistles the loudest.”

Egoraven chuckled, fondly remembering the phrase.

“If the herd is glad for anything,” he continued, “is that Blackavar has not inherited his mother’s vitriol.”

 “He tries to act older, but he’s still young.” Egoraven’s voice trailed as she remembered more of the magic that tied them together. “He still needs all the help he can get.”

A whining snort escaped Amadaeo’s flared nostrils as Egoraven noticed the distant herd simultaneously raise their heads, their ears pointed forward in alarm. She turned to see her uncle studying the road, his withers twitching nervously, causing his skin to ripple.

Perking her ears forward, she followed the herd’s lead, watching and listening. The sounds of horses, leather harnesses creaking with their movement, and wheels rolling over soil and gravel announced the arrival of a carriage on the way to the castle the path led to. Egoraven tilted her head, not understanding how something that simple could cause such a reaction.

“Rillian is returning from the world outside,” Amadaeo spoke, not taking his eyes off the carriage. Egoraven’s ears twitched.

“I don’t understand,” she answered, examining the pair of nondescript horses and the enchanted human who drove the team, a sight that she had seen many times before and knew the other unicorns had as well. “What’s the big—”

“But he has not come alone,” Alaric interjected as he joined the pair. About to greet her father, Egoraven became distracted as she caught an unfamiliar scent, dank and oppressive of rot and rust. A chill went through her, the back of her neck tingling. As the carriage passed, the origin of the odd smell revealed itself, causing the unicorn girl to gasp at the sight.

A pair of dragon-like creatures followed closely behind the carriage, their yellow eyes scanning their surroundings and noticeably glaring at the unicorns that glowered back. They wore battered armor and scale mail, both carrying lethal-looking pikes that matched the equally lethal-looking curled claws on the hind feet they walked on. The giant lizards continued their stares, craning their necks until it became too much for them. Returning to their march, they vanished with the carriage down the road.

“Raikashans,” the black unicorn growled. “There haven’t been any in Edinrahn since Miraon.”

“Oh, those are just Rakans,” Amadaeo countered with dismissal. “Mindless Raikashan slaves.”

Alaric snorted. “Where there are Rakans, there are Raikashans. I would not take their presence lightly, Amadaeo.”

Egoraven couldn’t shake the dread she felt from seeing such creatures and wondered what other fearsome things could also be lurking outside the valley. She reached out to the black unicorn. “Raikashans?” The word was utterly foreign to her.

Alaric nuzzled his daughter, trying to comfort the now frightened girl. “Men call them Dragon Lords. They hail from the far mountains and possess their own arcane magic. And they have wished the valley for their own for as long as they existed.” He sighed into her hair, trying not to let his fear worry her further. “Be grateful you never see one.”

* * *

“How dare you bring these creatures here! What are you thinking!”

Angry voices echoed through the marble halls, the closed doors, and the two dragons guarding them, unable to contain the furor.

King Gardowin frantically paced the room, unable to believe what was unfolding. Every attempt at speaking was instead caught in his throat as if every word was insufficient and had to be replaced by his flailing hands.

Standing before the fireplace, the elf prince Rillian watched the flames, not reacting to his father’s dramatic display. “They were gifts,” he answered, not feeling any inclination to elaborate.

Gardowin stopped, not believing what he had just heard. “Gifts…? Gifts?” he sputtered. “A Raikaishan finding an Eihdan worthy of Rakans? Worthy of anything?” The idea of Dragon Lords even deigning an elf worthy of any attention, much less making an extravagant gift of their warriors, was impossible to believe. “What did you offer in return?” he accused.

Rillian slowly turned his dark brown eyes, almost amused at his father being in such a state. “Obviously, my exploits against humans at tournament entertained them.” He stifled a grin, not believing the excuse himself.

“And that!” Gardowin raged on. “Do you think Men will allow you to compete against them without retaliation?”

The elf prince sucked his teeth and returned his gaze to the dancing flames. “I have taken precautions,” he answered. “Edinrahn is the last place they would retaliate against even if they knew.”

Violet robes and fur flared. “How can you see the outside but not what’s truly around us?”

“That’s your problem, father. You have never seen outside.” Rillian crossed his arms against his chest, feeling Gardowin close beside him. “I know what’s in the best interest of the valley more than you will ever allow yourself to know.”

“Bringing in Rakans and the ire of Varcyn? This is what’s best?” Gardowin’s mind reeled at his son’s arrogance and what it risked costing. “Edinrahn is surrounded by the kingdom of Ternam, and you dare to challenge the capital itself?   Do you think their sun god looks kindly on us?”

Rillian dramatically rolled his eyes and let out a cynical laugh. “I fear no man-made idols,” he spat. “You have no sense of vision.”

The king marched over to the large map mounted on the opposite wall, Edinrahn looking minuscule compared to the mortal kingdom enclosing it, protected and separated only by the vast forest and the magic that confined them. He slapped his hand against it. An odd calm overcame him. “Man-made? Men do dangerous things in the name of their idols.”

“Men who fear us in spite of their precious Helo,” Rillian sneered, mockingly speaking the sun god’s name. Next, you’ll tell me we’ll incur the wrath of Leda as well.”

“Of course, you would disparage the Moon Queen. Have you no concept of the consequences this may bring?” Gardowin couldn’t believe how far his people had fallen if his son could not remember or even respect their divine heritage.

Outside the room, a small group of elven women gathered by a far pillar, causing the dragons to switch their attention from the doors. But after assessing them as irritating but not threatening, it was enough not to warrant leaving their posts.

“Have you seen the prince?” one elfess asked, trying to make conversation while anxiously flittering her lace fan. “He has grown into such a handsome man!”

“It’s obvious you haven’t been seeing him too much before he left,” another answered, smoothing out her opulent dress in case she had to present herself to the arguing royals. “He’s always been quite the catch. But his excursions into the mortal kingdom grant him such confidence that seems to add to it.”

“It would be our sweet prince who would be the elf that can withstand the Pull for so long.” A third stared over the lizards by the door. “I wonder what he sees out there if those horrid things are what he’s bringing back?”

“Nevermind them,” the second responded. “I heard he returned to decide on a wife.”

“The gossip between the elders has been non-stop,” the first added. “Such an occasion requires a presentation ceremony, which always means parties, and I love parties!” She pressed her fan against her face and giggled through the lace.

Distant tapping on marble caught the girls’ attention. They quickly craned their necks, spying on who may be joining them, only to sigh in disappointment simultaneously. A unicorn girl in plain clothing made her way towards them.

“Look, look—it’s the mule,” the first hissed to the others, keeping her voice low. They suddenly became quiet, ending their conversation in hopes she would pass. Instead, their behavior only attracted the unicorn more.

“What is she doing here?” the second whispered, trying to hide her face.

Egoraven walked up with a twisted frown. “To see what the fuss is about,” she grunted, already having no patience for the girls. “And I can hear you from back there, yanno.” Her large, sensitive ears twitched as if needing to make the point.

The garbled yelling continued, engrossing them in the reason the king and prince might be having such a row about.

“They have been arguing since Prince Rillian got back,” the elfess explained, realizing the unicorn wasn’t leaving.

The third nodded. “We would go closer if not for those dreadful creatures.”

The raptors shuffled and pressed their noses against the doors. If they couldn’t be in the room, they would be as close as they could to it. Even with their vicious claws and weapons, they looked like giant dogs waiting for their master. Before, they filled Egoraven with dread, but now they looked laughable.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a closer look.” She smiled smugly.

Shock waved through the elf girls. “A closer look at those things?” one of them whined.

Egoraven stepped before them, turning her back. “What better bride for Rillian than one not afraid of his guards?” she boasted over her shoulder.

Mouths gaped as they couldn’t decide what horrified them more, the dragons or the idea that the homely unicorn girl would even be a consideration for the prince.

Egoraven found her steps more hesitant as she made her way closer to the dragons, their proper names popping into her thoughts.

Rakans. They are certainly larger up close, she thought. And more intimidating.

Initially annoyed at the jabbering girls hiding behind a pillar, the Rakans’ moods quickly changed as they turned and snarled. Egoraven suddenly lost her nerve.

Maybe I should wait with the others…

“Going somewhere, half-breed?” one of them spoke with growling disdain.

The other lowered his spear at her. “Can’t be sneaky around dragons,” he followed.

Egoraven fought the urge to ask how she was sneaking as she was walking right up to them, but however dumb she thought these animals were for a moment, their guttural speech and aimed weapons changed her mind.

The Rakans whipped their tails and lurched forward, forgetting whatever order they had been following and completely fixated on the unicorn, their pupils contracting into slits. Egoraven stepped back, regretting her decision to show up a group of silly elf girls in this way. Dread turned confidence switched into outright fear.

The dragons jumped.

Expecting to meet their mark quickly, the Rakans were surprised as the unicorn bobbed and weaved around their blades, letting out a high-pitched squeal as she did so. They pushed forward, incensed at their prey not being the easy kill they had hoped. Egoraven leaped back, trying to flee from the determined dragons, only to have miscalculated and slam herself into a pillar. One Rakan thrust his blade into the stone, missing her and catching Egoraven right above the shoulder. Egoraven hissed as she felt the steel slice through her shirt and skin and felt the heat of blood follow. Her eyes wide with terror, she caught her reflection in the large blade, realizing how close it was. She let out a scream.

“Enough! Release her!” boomed a voice from behind.

The dragon leaned in close, tightening his grip on the poleaxe. “No one’s smarter than dragons,” he snarled, his rank breath almost suffocating an already panicked Egoraven. “Especially no half-breed unicorn.”

“Let her go! That’s an order!” the voice came again. The dragon glanced back, seeing the enraged elf prince behind him. Slits turning back into black diamonds, the dragon withdrew, remembering who he held fealty to. With hardly any effort, he pulled the blade out of the marble pillar as if withdrawing a dull knife from warm butter.

King Gardowin ran up to the staggering unicorn with frantic concern. “My dear! Are you alright?”

Egoraven fell back onto the pillar as her legs refused to become steady. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she answered with a shaking voice as her body trembled. She was not fine. Reaching over to her shoulder, she felt the torn linen and bare skin covered in hot stickiness. Bringing her hand back, she stared in disbelief at the blood staining the white fur of her hand. Egoraven had experienced being hurt before, but not enough to see blood like this, to feel it trailing down the side of her chest as her shoulder stung and tingled. Behind her, Gardowin continued yelling.

“See? See what your creatures almost did?”

Egoraven stood in shock, still staring at her hand until another reached out and closed it for her. She snapped out of her daze to see the elf prince's remorseful face and felt herself flush.

“Egoraven, I apologize profusely for that,” he said loud enough for his father to hear. “They still don’t know their place yet.” He waved to the Rakans as they stood aside, grinding their teeth and shuffling, not quite at attention.

Rillian brought himself closer. “Let me look at what he did.”

Egoraven’s shock became overwhelmed with shyness as he brushed his fingers against her cheek, pushing aside her long brown hair to reveal the ugly wound his lizards had caused. She caught herself shivering again, but this time not in pain.

“Does it hurt?” Rillian asked as he assessed the wound. “Should I call your father to heal you?” He brushed his fingers just under her ear, causing it to twitch. Egoraven couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or not.

She raised her hand to the wound. “No, it’s fine.” As she answered, the tingling grew stronger, and a gasp escaped Rillian’s lips. The wound wriggled, the red gap puckering then tightening into a seam that faded and disappeared, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin under the torn linen as if nothing had happened. Not even the slightest scar. Rillian stepped back and let out a surprised chuckle, running his hand through his dark red-brown hair.

“You look like you’ve grown in more ways than one,” he replied in a deep, almost seductive tone, causing the unicorn to blush and clutch at the gap in her shirt in an odd attempt at modesty.

Keeping an eye on her, Rillian turned to Gardowin. “Father, I believe we were finished with our conversation?”

Gardowin nodded, glancing between his son and the unicorn girl. “For now, Rillian. I shall see you at dinner.”

“I can hardly wait,” Rillian replied, not hiding his sarcasm.

Egoraven and Rillian were left alone in the hall. “So, I see your reflexes have improved,” he commented, remembering how the unicorn dodged the dragons’ blades. “How is your sword arm?”

Egoraven folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Nolan insists I take my human form to practice, and it has held me back.”

Rillian scoffed. “Shapeshifting? What does he know about it?”

“I think he does it to keep me from showing up his favorites,” Egoraven replied, reliving the frustration from the morning.

“Ah, Jared, Conner and Bowen…” Rillian nodded with a knowing grin and folded his arms behind his back. “They have skill because I taught them first.” He paused, thinking for a bit. “I have several things to attend to before dinner.” Rillian turned his head to look back at the unicorn. “Let’s get together then and catch up.”

Egoraven felt her cheeks heat up as she returned his gaze and smiled widely. “I would like that,” she answered. “You can tell me about your adventures.” She swished her tail.

Rillian pulled on his jerkin to smooth it out as he prepared to leave. “And you know how much I like telling them.” He gave a little laugh as he waved at her. “Until later, princess.”

 “My lord,” she answered with a curtsey.

He turned and made his way down the corridor without looking back. Egoraven watched the elf prince, feeling a warmth in her belly, only to be interrupted by a low growl that startled her. In her infatuated haze, she had forgotten the Rakans were still there.

“Next time, he will not be here to remind us of our allegiance,” one snarled as they walked past to follow their master.

* * *

The great hall rang with the sounds of conversation and laughter, the clacking of plates, and the ringing of glasses meeting in salute. Dinner was in full effect, with all the elves enjoying their sumptuous meals. Between the long rows of tables was a flurry of movement, with human servants darting back and forth nonstop in an endless procession of food, drink, and entertainment. On one end, acrobatic youths in colorful clothing jumped, tumbled, and climbed each other. On the other, troubadours sang tales of elven heroes of history and their great distant ancestors of Alfheim. A jester weaved between the servants, sharing bawdy poems and limericks to the delight of those who listened.

But as much joy the mortals exhibited in entertaining their elvish admirers, they were far from being guests. Every last one of them, from the bard regaling stories to the servants pouring wine, were all enchanted by what was left of the magic of the elves and the overall power of the valley. Some were lured while others came of misguided volition, but the result was the same. Not one would ever return to their mortal homes again, in thrall to Edinrahn, until their deaths.

At the front of the great hall, away from the festivities but still close enough to be noticeable, were the two dragon raptors in armor. Obviously agitated by the commotion, they scowled and shuffled as they stood their posts.

King Gardowin and the rest of the royal elders sat at the high table overlooking the hall. An elven gentleman came from behind the king’s throne-like chair and whispered in his ear.

“Sire, many of us find having Rakans in the castle quite unnerving.

The king sighed, taking another sip of wine. “Rillian refused to have them removed, and they will not take orders from anyone else but him.” He made the gentleman wait as he chewed a piece of tender venison. Swallowing, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “We will make the best of the situation.”

The gentleman regarded the two Rakans. The dragons looked insignificant in the massive hall surrounded by hundreds of people, both elf and human. But it was to everyone’s peril to underestimate what dragons of any size could do, especially these servants of the Raikashans of the mountains.  He shivered at the thought. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered and bid his leave to rejoin his kin on the floor below.

At a long table nearest to the dais sat the children of the royal elders, with Prince Rillian at the center of attention. Surrounded by their heavily flirtatious daughters in overflowing gowns and a lone unicorn girl dressed even plainer than the servants, the stories and gossip flowed freely as the wine. The prince, reveling in his tales of his months away in the mortal kingdom of Ternam, spoke of how he roamed without notice in its capital of Varcyn, even going so far as winning a few trinkets competing in local tournaments.

The elven girls sighed and cooed, heaving their bosoms and batting their lashes as they showered him with flattery. How wonderous it was that he could brave the Pull to seek such experiences. How dangerously thrilling to mingle with mortals who would not think twice about killing an elf caught on their side of the border. What elf maiden would refuse a proposal from the audacious prince if only he would give any hint as to who he may fancy? Egoraven enjoyed her meal, silently laughing at the girls as they primped before him.

* * *

In the dark of night, the unicorns of the valley gathered around the castle, keeping their vigil. The appearance of the Rakans had unnerved them, and they roamed the grounds, skittish and uneasy.

Alaric stood atop a grassy overlook, his ears swiveling and skin twitching. Amadaeo appeared behind him, also searching the air for something they couldn’t name. “Have you seen Lilith?” Alaric asked his brother.

“Last I saw her was this morning,” the grey stallion answered.

“She was acting a bit strange.”

Amadaeo flared his nostrils and gave a laughing whinny. “Unless she turned pleasantly charming, I didn’t notice anything different.”

Although Alaric didn’t appreciate the flippant answer at the expense of his queen, he knew Amadaeo wasn’t wrong. He stood silent and chewed his tongue, contemplating.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

“There’s something not right about the valley…” Alaric answered, his voice trailing. “The magic feels thick like a fog.”

Amadaeo sighed. “Maybe you were right about the Rakans being bad omens. Dragons don’t belong here. The Eihdans seem oblivious enough, though. Should we warn them?”

“Let them feast.” Alaric breathed in deeply, and his horn sparkled. “I’ll have some younger stallions investigate the valley’s edge.” The two unicorns made their way to continue their patrol.

* * *

Prince Rillian was in the middle of a harrowing story involving an altercation with some ruffians when suddenly, the unicorn next to him gave out a cry. Utensils clattered onto marble as human servants stopped, startled and wondering what was happening. Egoraven grabbed her head, sucking in her breath at the sharp pain that radiated from the base of her horn no one noticed was shimmering.

Rillian leaned over, grabbing her shoulders. “Are you all right? Is there something wrong?”

The elf girls went on eating, watching the commotion with less interest. “Our fine feast obviously made her sensitive stomach ill,” one of them snarked.

“Maybe she’d like some grass and oats instead?” added her seatmate.

Rillian glared at the two girls. “How about you cows worry about your cud instead,” he snarled, causing them to gasp at his reaction, their faces turning beet red.

Egoraven winced again, her knees wobbly as she tried to get up, stumbling out of the chair. Rillian continued fussing with her, beginning to get the attention of the elders at the high table. The prince raised his hand to them.

“It’s all right,” he announced. “I’ll take care of this.” He turned his attention back to Egoraven. She stumbled again, falling into his arms.

“I—I just suddenly got dizzy,” she stammered. What started as a reeling headache now made her stomach turn. Nausea flooded the back of her throat, and the last thing she wanted was to vomit all over the prince in front of the entire court of Edinrahn. The unicorn covered her mouth and rushed out of the hall, with Rillian following close behind.

Ducking into a quiet corridor, Egoraven grasped the wall and breathed deeply, finally feeling some semblance of control over her senses. Pressing her face against the stone, she relished its cool surface as she regained her composure.

“Are you feeling better?” she heard.

Brushing out her shirt, Egoraven lifted herself from the wall. “You didn’t need to come with me,” she said as Rillian joined her. The tip of her tail gave a little wag, glad he did. The elf tossed his hair as he waved his hand dismissively. “Those girls were boring me anyway, and I could have used any excuse.” He stepped closer. “Maybe it was the wine?”

Egoraven chuckled. “You know I could drink the entire cellar and not feel any effects.”

“I’ll never forget the hangover the last time we tried.” An odd smile crossed Rillian’s lips. “Or what happened afterward,” he hummed.

Egoraven’s stomach fluttered, and her face flushed as she remembered the incident. What would those girls, with their perfumed hair and embroidered gowns, think if they found out that it was the unicorn who dressed like a peasant who got to taste the princely meal they all desperately hungered for?

Rillian decided to change the subject. “So, I see how Blackavar will be powerful when he’s older. Alaric should watch himself.”

Egoraven let out a breath. “We’re not wild horses. Alaric will be happy to pass the herd into his leadership.” She couldn’t help but be surprised at the comment, not remembering Rillian ever talking about the unicorns, much less mentioning them by name.

“But aren’t you the first born?” he continued. Egoraven shrank, and her ears drooped as the prince poked at her sore spot.

“I don’t quite count,” she answered, looking away. “I am neither full Arisyan nor all that magical. The herd just haven’t decided which bothers them more.”

Rillian was skeptical. “You’re a shapeshifter who I just watched heal herself from a blade wound this morning. That counts as very magical to me.”

“Not to unicorns,” she answered as she shrugged. “Not to me.”

“Are you sure?” Rillian pushed. “Don’t you know how much magic you have? Wouldn’t you know?”

Egoraven wrung her hands. “I can do little things, but not because I can really control it.” She watched as the prince suddenly went deep into thought, his mood souring. His line of questions struck her as strange. “Why?” she had to ask.

The elf prince turned, and suddenly, Egoraven was unsettled in his presence. “Our magic is so diluted with human blood, we can’t help looking upon your people with such longing.” He ran his fingers through his hair, agitated. “It’s not that you do a lot with your magic; it’s the fact that you are the very symbols of magic. My people deserve that.”

“Of course, the Eihdans have magic, or you would be no different from the humans trapped here who serve us,” Egoraven offered as odd comfort.

“And you think we’re not trapped?” His eyes became distant.

“What do you mean?” The unicorn girl hoped he didn’t notice her taking a step back. “You leave the valley every chance you get because no one else does.”

In a blur of movement, Rillian rushed forward, grabbing Egoraven and slamming her up against the wall. She let out a cry in surprise at the impact and awareness of how he pushed his body against hers. How he just fit where she did not want him to be. Bracing his hands on each side of her, Rillian compelled Egoraven to look at him.

“I can because I will myself to not only see the world but to live within it,” he replied with venom. “You were all born here, but not us. We were invited, and we stayed, but where were we before? And do we stay because we want to or because we are forced to?”

Egoraven squirmed and flushed as she felt him press his hips against her further, his hand beginning to wander, his breath hot against her neck with a throbbing at his inseam. “Rillian, you’re the one who’s had too much wine,” she replied through a shaky gasp as he clawed and kneaded at her shirt, the hem climbing.

“That’s why no one leaves,” Rillian growled. “That’s why I always come back.” He brought his face close enough for their lips to almost touch. Rillian closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of roses as his fingers reached under the bunched-up shirt and touched bare skin. Egoraven’s ears pinned. If she could have pushed herself through the wall to get away, she would have.

“I tried to resist, but the pain…” Rillian breathed in her ear, causing it to twitch. “The pain is unbearable. And because of that pain, I have done something about it.” He ran his fingers through her hair and roughly stroked her face. “I have started what will be a new dawn for Edinrahn, a new age in our history.” Rillian’s hand then fell to her throat and tightened. “And you are going to help me.”

* * *

The unicorn stallions traced the valley's perimeter. Their unusual speed and agility allowed them to cover great distances in a fraction of the time no mortal horse could achieve through the dense wood. The great herd was on edge, all affected by the dark magic that infected the air and seeped into their beings.

A rustling caught their attention. They slowed their pace, nostrils flaring, and ears swiveling. Horns sparkling in the light of the full moon, they thought they were being joined by more of the herd until several pairs of yellow eyes appeared from the shadows.

The unicorns reared and stomped as the dragons seemed to melt from the darkness into the light, large blades pointed, surrounding them and ready for the kill. The stallions couldn’t understand how such foul creatures could have been so close without them knowing until it was too late. But a call on the magic revealed what they had feared—scrawls of ancient runes on the rust-colored skin and armor, camouflaging them. Dragons had infiltrated the valley, and it wasn’t long for the unicorn scouts to realize they were vastly outnumbered.

The younger of the group, showing more bravado than sense, charged the Rakan closest to him. Eager for the fight, the Rakan raised his weapon and prepared to jump until a roar cut through the air.

“NO! NO BLOOD OF THE FIRST IS TO BE SPILLED!”

The Rakan pulled back and turned, showing the closest that could be considered to submission. The unicorns halted their charge, pinning their ears and letting out shrill whinnies as another dragon entered the clearing, but this one was different.

The figure in gleaming armor towered over the hunched raptors. The moonlight unveiled him, a dragon for sure, but this was no Rakan. Walking as a man, the Raikashan raised his hand, continuing his command. “Lord Bilakath wants all Arisyans alive!”

The unicorns held their ground as the raptors tightened their circle, not that there was much choice. They could only hope their urgent calls were heard and heeded.

The dragons were here.

* * *

Egoraven didn’t think her eyes could get any wider as she twisted under the weight of the elf prince as he continued his intrusive touching and almost nonsensical monologue. But looking past his shoulder did just that.

A strange being she had never seen before made its way towards them. Taller than anyone she knew, taller than the Rakans that followed behind and looking like them, but not quite. A figure in armor and a long cape that flared, making them look larger than they already were. Another dragon. And she feared this one more than any of the raptors that seemed to multiply in the corridor.

The sounds of violent crashing and commotion echoed all around them as Egoraven felt Rillian’s fingers tighten on her neck. At that moment, she made a decision.

“Get off of me!” she screamed, using her strength to fling the elf prince and bolt from his grasp. He crashed into the opposite wall, the force of the impact knocking the wind and his carnality out of him.

The Raikashan paid no attention to Rillian as he gasped and coughed loudly, trying to catch his breath. Instead, he pointed a clawed finger in the unicorn’s direction. Obeying wordlessly, the Rakans jumped and charged.

Egoraven weaved through the many corridors veining the palace, hooves slipping on marble and surrounded by the sounds of chaos. Catching a glimpse of her pursuers, she surged forward, finding and ducking into a stairwell alcove, hoping that if she couldn’t race enough distance between them, she could at least sneak it.

Hiding in the shadows, Egoraven held her breath and watched the Rakans gallop past, continuing their chase. Her father’s words entered her memory.

Men call them Dragon Lords. They possess their own arcane magic… They have wished the valley for their own for as long as it has existed. Be grateful you never see one.

Frozen, she waited and rubbed her throat, still feeling Rillian’s fingernails digging into her skin. She felt remorse at what she did, all these years training herself to hold back and wondering if she had hurt him. But what was he trying to do with his crazed speech and the rising lust it seemed to inspire? She felt tears stinging at the edges of her eyes.

The unicorn didn’t know how long she had been hiding, but she knew she couldn’t stay there. Wiping her eyes with the fur of her wrists, she crawled to the staircase and, practically on all fours, scrambled up them.

Reaching the next level, Egoraven was at a loss as to what she was trying to accomplish. The carpeted hallway leading to the many bedrooms and parlors was silent, starkly contrasting with the bedlam below. Looking out the tall windows opposite the stairwell, every ounce of her being told her that outside was where safety was, even if she couldn’t make anything out through the warped, darkened glass except distorted moonlight. Instead, she made her way further into the castle.

It didn’t take long for Egoraven to realize she was not alone. Ahead of her, she could make out a familiar equine shape, a bronze horn shimmering in the darkened hallway.

Lilith.

Egoraven was confused as to why Lilith would be in the castle to begin with. The Queen Mare had such disdain for the elves and their palace, matched only by her hatred of the unicorn girl, who blinked back at her from the other end of the hallway. Hate or not, Lilith was a unicorn, and all Egoraven could see at that moment was family.

“Lilith!” Egoraven cried out. “We have to get out of here! The castle is overrun with dragons!”

The bronze mare did not move, not reacting at all except to take one step forward and glare. “I know,” was the only thing she said.

Chittering growls and yellow eyes made their way out of the dark. A gasp caught in Egoraven’s throat, followed by uncontrollable trembling as the Rakans flanked the Queen Mare and set their sights on her. Readying their weapons, they lurched and, with a whip of their tails, pounced. Egoraven didn’t remember screaming.

Shrill, outraged whinnying, pierced the air with too-close roars cut down to strangled gurgling and thrashing. The unicorn girl kept her head down and cringed, waiting for her turn of whatever assault was happening.

“Egoraven! Are you hurt?”

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name in a recognizable voice, seeing her father and uncle. Their coats, hooves, and horns were splattered with the viscera of the dragons that lay in the hallway, mutilated and very much dead because of them. Lilith was nowhere to be found.

“I’m fine! What’s going on?” Egoraven scrambled on the floor, her wobbly legs preventing her from getting up.

Alaric tensely surveyed the hallway. “There’s no time to explain. Gardowin is dead, and we all will be if we don’t start running!”

“What about Lilith?” Egoraven asked, still not believing the bronze mare encouraged dragons to attack her. She let out a gasp. “Where is Blackavar? We must find him!”

“Blackavar can take care of himself,” Amadaeo snorted as he lowered himself against Egoraven and presented his back. “You, on the other hand, need all the help you can get.” The unicorn girl looked at her uncle in dismay, not understanding what she was supposed to do. “Get on, child,” he answered sternly.

A loud crashing noise coming from somewhere too close for comfort startled Egoraven into action. Grabbing a handful of black mane, she pulled herself onto Amadaeo’s back.

Anxiously pacing the hallway, they concentrated on the windows. “Hold on tight,” Alaric commanded his daughter. Egoraven nodded and did what she was told, not daring to question anything.

A whirlwind of movement ended in a shower of glass as the unicorns smashed through the windows, jumping into the gardens below. Egoraven could feel the tendrils of magic swirling to protect them from the impact as they landed. Without missing a step from such a high jump, the stallions bolted toward the forest.

From a balcony on a higher floor, a pug-nosed Raikashan witnessed the scene. He took an annoyed breath as he stared over the edge, his claws scraping against the stone. With a click of his yellowed teeth, he spoke to another guarding the open balcony door. “Get a group on them,” he snarled without making any effort to look back. Not needing any more specific instruction, the second Dragon Lord saluted.

In the space that was left, another, much smaller figure slid onto the balcony, greeted only by a loud breath from lizard-like nostrils. The Raikashan already knew who had joined him.

“This doesn’t say much for your people to be taken down so easily,” the dragon rumbled, still scanning the darkened forest.

Rillian bristled at not being granted the courtesy of being faced when spoken to but held his tongue. At least the raptors had to pay attention to him. “It’s a weakness I intend to change,” he answered.

The comment was met with ambivalence. “Once Edinrahn is secure, Lord Bilakath will join us.” The dragon turned his gargoyle-like head towards the elf prince, finally giving him the eye contact he demanded and now regretted. “Make sure you are ready for him.”

“I will need Egoraven for that,” Rillian replied, still sore from her escape.

With a step that dramatically flared his cloak, the dragon glared as he walked by. “What you need is none of my concern.”

Faced with the Raikashan’s back again, Rillian balled his fists, his mouth turning into a tight line, as a bronze unicorn appeared in the room.

* * *

In a small, moonlit clearing, two unicorns and a unicorn girl desperately prepared for what was coming next.

“You must get to the border,” Alaric spoke, breathless from tension rather than the run. “The Raikashans won’t risk the Pull, and we must use that to our advantage.”

“How can you be sure?” Amadaeo asked.

Alaric felt Egoraven cling to him as she tried to make sense of what was going on.

“That fog—that was the magic seizing them, leaving a void we all felt because so many entered at the same time. Now that the dragons are in, the valley will not let them out.”

Amadaeo was unconvinced. “And what of us? The Pull will force us back as well.”

“Egoraven’s magic will protect you.”

“WHAT?” Amadaeo and Egoraven simultaneously shouted.

“She can’t possibly—” Amadaeo couldn’t believe what he heard as memories of her struggles with her magic flashed.

“It is there,” Alaric interrupted, their time running out. “And I—we will not let the Raikashans take her for it.”

Egoraven clutched to her father. “What about you? I won’t leave you!” she pleaded.

The stallion backed away, forcing her to let go. “I will not abandon the herd to Lilith’s betrayal.” Chittering snarls and yellow eyes appeared from the brush, their blades gleaming in the moonlight.

Egoraven ran to the grey unicorn, jumping on his back and holding on for her life because her life indeed depended on it.

“I will slow them down and buy you time,” Alaric barked as the raptors circled. The stallion charged, forcing their hyper-focus and leaving the opening needed for Amadaeo to jump in the opposite direction.

In that split second, Egoraven looked over her shoulder only to see a black unicorn galloping away with a pack of dragons in pursuit. With a great leap, Amadaeo bounded deeper into the forest, leaving everything behind them to the darkness.

* * *

Rillian stayed on the balcony, listening to the pandemonium he had unleashed die down as the smell of smoke faded. He cursed the Raikashans. The least they could do was not burn down the castle.

“The dragons know how to make you regret aligning with them.” Lilith stepped out onto the balcony, causing the elf prince to tense up.

So do the unicorns, he thought, his brow furrowing. Taking a frustrated breath, he braced himself on the balustrade, staring at nothing.

The bronze unicorn walked up beside him. “I hope you find this is all worth it.”

Rillian’s knuckles turned white as he almost choked on the bile flooding the back of his throat. “You should be asking yourself that,” he hissed.