“Then it begins.”

Gilseth’ir is his opponent. The Scourge of the Mesmir.

Haldred readies his blade and charges the Scourge, answering his opponent’s words with a first slash of his left short sword.

Gilseth is massive, his size belying his speed, and he seems to disappear before Haldred’s first blow, pivoting on one enormous foot to make himself a smaller target. He chuckles a deep, rumbling laugh and Haldred can hear the whistle of a blade through air as Firebrand sails toward him in a plunging arc, aimed at one of his legs. He barely stumbles backward in time, only just deflecting the quickly following uppercut of the blade.

Win… I have to win, he thinks.

This duel, this single fight decides the fate of all his brothers and sisters in the Ha’ak’til ranks behind him. They’re counting on him. The fate of his entire country, his family, so many families… rests on his shoulders.

Another blow slams into the ground next to him and yanks him out of his thoughts. He throws himself in a roll to the side and comes up, swords ready in his hands, and growls out a warning to the giant.

You fall today, he thinks.

Quick and light as the giant is on his feet, Haldred is quicker and lighter. In two steps, the warrior is inside the guard of the Scourge and a slash with one sword elicits a grunt as it finds its mark. The next strike is deeper and the cry of the giant echoes into the mountains nearby. Gilseth steps back and brings his Firebrand down in another sweeping arc, but instead of trying to parry or deflect, Haldred rolls forward, just under the blade, and between the giant’s feet, opening another gash on Gilseth’s thigh.

Another roar shakes the air and Gilseth whirls, letting Firebrand ride out in yet another deadly arc, barely missing Haldred’s chest with the point of the blade.

Haldred lets out a quick breath and finds the eyes of the Scourge as the monster pursues him, all rage and fury now. Their blades ring as thrusts and cuts and sweeps are traded between them. But giant’s eyes… Haldred fears the eyes of the Scourge more than his named blade.

A cutting sweep downward. The eyes are without mercy. A sweep to the side. They are without care. A thrust. They hold no soul.

On the defensive with no way out—

Haldred cries out as Firebrand, sword of Gilseth’ir, plunges into his stomach, up to the hilt. His own swords fall from his grasp and his face screws up in a grimace as the giant roars again, this time in triumph, and hoists his prey up into the sky, still skewered on his sword.

When he finally falls to the ground, when the sword is finally drawn from him, Haldred lies, eyes open, to see his people charge. They are on their way to avenge him. And to decide their own fates.

The Ha’ak’til will not fall because of his failure.

They will rise again, stronger than ever, in his name.

They will rise. And claim their fate.

They rise.

To victory.

His heart seems to stop as the answer becomes clear. Crystal and shining and horrible. But it is the only answer. The only one that makes sense.

Are there others that could go? Yes. Always. Always. Of course. And do they have enough time to find someone? No. No, of course not. Never enough time. Never peace. Never rest.

Never someone else.

The girl needs his help. And his help… it means leaving… her. His heart. His Dearest Heart.

When they finally have everything they’ve ever wanted.

He turns from the door where his friend stands, desperate for his aid… and faces his wife. Tears fill his eyes. His lower lip trembles, his breath going from him. He takes a step toward her, lifts a hand to caress her face, cupping her cheek gingerly.

“Ask me to stay,” he breathes.

She looks up at him, her jaw set. “I can’t do that… They need you. They…” Her words trail off and tears form in her own eyes. “They need you more than I do right now…”

His eyes close in a long blink and then he tilts his head, looking at her with more sorrow than could be borne by the world. “What if something happens? What if something happens while I’m gone…?” The first tear slides down his cheek and she pulls him into her arms, resting her cheek beside his.

“It won’t.” A promise.

A lie.

Something always happens.

But he holds her tight. Shuts his eyes against the truth and when he pulls away, even he believes her false promise. Belief born of hope and sorrow.

She kisses him, setting her lips to his, a seal to the vow. “I love you. Come back to me.”

“Always,” is his reply. “Always. My Dearest Heart.”

The raven hair or hair as golden as the sun. The blue eyed-beauty or the eyes as green as an emerald on display. The porcelain skin with the elven features or the ebony warrior, strong and sturdy as the mountainside. The slender willow figure or the voluptuously curved hips. One or the other. The rarities. Those set apart from others are sought for the spotlight.

For desire.

For what they can give.

Those of rare beauty or elegance, of intriguing difference and foreign, exotic allure are wanted. Wanted and chased and exploited and fought over until they are torn apart by all those that wanted them. Or until they tear themselves apart from the inside out.

But people, mankind, humanity… It cannot want what it cannot see.

So they’ll never see me. Not the part of me that would call upon wanton and certain destruction.

My heart is not for this world. This world is undeserving of my deepest and most desperately constructed center.

Open my chest. Pull back the skin and muscle and bone and beneath it all is found a heart. A heart unlike any other.

Glowing, radiant, silvery light emanates from it always. And the seams shine of the deepest, most vibrant ruby. Beating and living like any other heart of any other living being. But metal. Forged of the most intricate and delicate parts. Beating and living like any other heart. But strong. Able to withstand the force of a tidal wave. Beating and living. But cold. An icebox in my chest. A frostheart at my core.

They would want it. Not for their own use. Not for a purpose. But simply because… it is rare.

Rare things are wanted.

But the world cannot want what it cannot see.

So it shall never see my heart.

Not even as it begs mercy of my hand.