𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

prologue

Run.

That was all she could think.

Run as far away as possible. Away from the screams, the violence, the bloodshed.

Everywhere she turned, there was destruction and terror. She had never in her life seen so much suffering.

Her home, her life, her friend, her kingdom. They were all...gone.

The stench of smouldering flesh and smoke polluted the air, burning her nostrils, and the high pitched squeal of the Nazgûl rang through the air, striking even the bravest of hearts with a raw, all-consuming fear. Bodies littered the ground.

Amidst it all, the little elfling ran as fast as her feet would allow, pulled along frantically by her father. Her dress, once white, was now stained with dirt, grime and blood. Jagged stone and broken glass dug into the soles of her feet, but they could not stop.

Not with what pursued behind them.

An ear-piercing screech sent ripples of pain through her eardrums as a dark shadow passed overhead. The elfling clutched her ears, trying to block out the terrifying sound. She could barely make out her father yelling at her to hide.

She shook her head. She didn't want to leave him. But her father pushed her behind a fallen stone structure as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The Fell Beast landed with a thud, letting out a bone-shattering roar, revealing its rider, the Witch-King of Angmar.

His cold metal helmet reflected no light, only evil, and through the holes of the mask was nothing but a void of darkness, a shapeless, sleepless malice. When he spoke, it was like a sword scraping against metal, sending chills down her spine.

"Arveldir...King of Maladros." the Witch-King hissed as he dismounted his beast. "Tonight your line comes to an end."

Arveldir drew his sword, his eyes trained on the enemy, burning with anger and determination.

"Not when there is still breath in me."

The Witch-King snarled, and with a blinding flash of lightning, his sword ignited into flames.

The girl lay hidden behind the stone, watching the events unfold, paralyzed with fear as it clutched her heart with its icy tendrils.

With every clash of sword against sword, she could see her father's strength sap as he grew more and more weary. She could see it in the way he moved, the way he struggled to catch his breath, the way his dodges grew more and more sluggish, more and more delayed as the Witchking relentlessly rained strike after strike down upon him.

The Witch-King slashed at her father, and she felt a cry leave her lips, drawing her father's eyes for a split second.

But that was enough for the Witch-King.

When the sword pierced her fathers' abdomen, her jaw fell agape in a silent scream as she watched her only guardian left crumple to the ground. The world around her fell silent as she watched the crimson red of blood spread across his once gold tunic, a pained look captured in his eyes.

There, as the ashes of her fallen kingdom fell from the skies, the King of Maladros lay, dying. Her heart felt as if it had been torn from the cage that holds it, her mind unable to process what lay before her. Her father was dying, and it was all her fault.

As the Witch-King slowly turned towards the girl, a sudden burst of rage surged through her veins like a coursing river. She scrambled to her feet as she found her bearings, a surge of thirst for vengeance burning within her.

Picking up her father's sword, the young elfling charged at the warrior of death, the bringer of destruction and despair, cloaked in shadow and darkness.

Her thoughts were overtaken by revenge. All reason had deserted her.

She didn't see the sword pierce, she only felt the merciless white-hot pain spreading from her left shoulder, causing her knees to buckle.

She collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud, gasping for air as her mind conceded to the agony. Black spots danced across her vision. Her hands were slick with blood, her mind heavy with despair.

Death was just around the corner.

"Foolish child." the Witch-King snarled. "You only prolong your suffering and torment."

His laugh was jarring, and in that moment, she begged for an escape. A way out.

"And now, the earth shall run red with the blood of the final heir to Maladros."

As the Nazgul stood over her, she shut her eyes in full acceptance of her fate, waiting for the final blow. What was she to live for when everyone she loved was gone.

That was until she heard an earth-shaking growl.

She opened her eyes to see the Nazgul mount his beast, taking off into the dark sky, letting out one more prolonged screech. She noticed her saviour, the large black wolfhound before her, but at that moment, she did not care.

She did not care for the bodies that lay on the streets of her town, she did not care for the fire that consumed everything she ever loved, she did not care for the black veins spreading from the stab wound on her shoulder.

All she cared about was her father.

Fighting against the excruciating pain, she dragged herself to her father's body

The blood had spread across the fabric as the last King of Maladros lay dying.

Clasping his hand, she cried.

"I'm sorry, ada (father), this was all my fault. I let him in. I'm sorry...I'm sorry-"

The dying king gently shushed his daughter. Mustering his final strength, Arveldir pulled her close, taking a piece of gold jewelry from his bloodstained pocket, pressing it into her palm.

"Your mother loved you. She wanted you to have this."

The girl's emotions were a mess as grief surged upon her, wave after wave. Taking the hairpiece, she clutched it close to her heart before bringing her father's hand to her lips, planting a soft kiss.

"Please don't leave me," she begged.

Arveldir smiled peacefully, wiping his daughter's tears with a shaking hand.

"Glaurielle...iell nín, (my daughter), don't blame yourself."

Her body was racked with sobs as she hugged her father's dying figure.

"Harthon gerithach raid gelin a melthin, " Her voice quivered uncontrollably. "Hiro nín hîdh ab 'wanath."

(I hope you will have green and golden paths, may you find peace in death).

As the girl watched the last breath leave her father's body and the light fade from his eyes, everything came crashing down. Stab wound forgotten, from her lips slipped a long pain-filled cry of despair.

Finally, darkness overcame her senses, numbing her pain.