The Verdant Gate

I was being delivered like livestock. That was the first thought that came to me as the wooden caravan groaned up the mountain road.

The second thought was that livestock were probably treated better.

I sat alone in the back of an old gypsy caravan as its wheels rattled violently over roots and stone. Every bump sent my body crashing against wooden walls lined with hanging charms, faded fabrics, old perfumes, and discarded trinkets from journeys long past. The entire carriage smelled like flowers left too long in a graveyard.

Sweet. Rotten. Ancient.

An old elven driver sat outside steering the black stag that pulled the wagon. He had spoken exactly two words to me since dawn.

"Get inside."

That was eight hours ago. Since then, silence. Just me. Just this road. And the increasingly horrifying destination waiting ahead.

I am Alfar Chandralon. Second son of House Chandralon of the Arayan Empire. The unwanted middle child. My older brother would inherit our estates. My younger brother remained protected because mother adored him. And me? I was apparently "the son who needed hardship." The son who needed discipline. The son who needed to "become useful."

That was how father phrased it while volunteering me to become ward and squire to Captain Hannah Icetear. As if he were gifting me some grand opportunity. As if he were not quietly sacrificing me to satisfy a peace treaty. I clenched my jaw.

Six months ago, the war between elves and humans had finally ended. Or so the politicians called it. Ended. Such a gentle word for what happened to "Snowwinter". Now called "Ashwinter".

One of the grandest elven cities ever built had burned beneath human fire bombardment. White towers collapsed. Ancient libraries turned to smoke. Entire bloodlines vanished overnight. And leading that attack? My uncle. High General Cassian Chandralon. The butcher of Ashwinter. The man many humans praised as a hero. The man every elf wanted dead.

And now his nephew was being sent directly into the heart of the most dangerous elven military faction alive. Wonderful. Truly magnificent planning by my family.

The road became steeper. Rougher. The clean forest we passed earlier slowly transformed into something darker. Branches twisted overhead like skeletal fingers. The sunlight weakened. Birdsong disappeared. Even the wind seemed afraid to enter this place.

I leaned toward the carriage opening. Then I froze.

Movement. High above. At first I thought they were shadows. Then I saw long war bows. Red cloaks. Steel blades. Women.

Tall elven women perched high within the trees like predators. Watching us. Dozens of them. Silent. Still. Beautiful. Terrifying.

The old driver finally spoke.

"Do not look at them too long."

I nearly jumped.

"You speak?"

He ignored my sarcasm.

"They dislike human eyes."

"I dislike being sent here."

He let out what might have been amusement.

"You should."

Wonderful. Even the driver had decided honesty was appropriate now that death felt closer. The caravan rolled forward another fifteen minutes. Then I saw it. And forgot how to breathe. The Verdant Gate.

It rose from the forest like a kingdom hidden inside a living fortress. Massive wooden walls stretched endlessly across the forest boundaries. Watchtowers climbed into the sky. Thick wooden spikes faced outward. Massive crimson banners bearing silver-white tree insignias hung from the walls. Vines crawled across ancient timber. Guard platforms overflowed with armed female elves. Archers lined elevated walkways. Mounted rangers moved along the roads below. And carved into the massive central gate:

Beyond it? Towns hidden inside forest walls. Not a camp. Not a fortress. A militarized civilization. The old driver stopped.

"Well," he muttered.

"Well what?"

He looked at me.

"You are still alive."

That was not comforting.

He opened the caravan door.

"Get out."

I stepped into cold mud, with my backpack. The moment my boots touched ground, conversation stopped. Every nearby ranger stared at me. And dear gods. I was not dreaming. I'm here, the Crimson Veil.

They were even more intimidating up close. Tall. Nearly all of them towered over me. Six feet. Some taller. Athletic bodies carved from years of warfare. Leather armor. Steel plating. Crimson cloaks. Scarred skin. Perfect elven faces. Predatory eyes. Beautiful enough to belong in palace paintings. Dangerous enough to cut those paintings apart.

One spat near my feet. Another openly laughed. A third looked disgusted.

I adjusted my coat and attempted dignity. "I am Alfar Chandralon, second son of House Chandralon."

Terrible decision. The entire gate erupted in laughter. Even the old driver sighed. One red-haired ranger stepped forward. She was absurdly tall. Her crimson cloak moved behind her like spilled blood. Twin daggers rested at her hips. Her green eyes studied me like I was an insect. Then she smiled. It was not kind.

"Chandralon?"

The laughter died. Everything changed. The atmosphere became colder. More dangerous. Another ranger muttered.

"Ashwinter."

A third whispered.

"Kill him."

My stomach dropped. I raised both hands.

"I had nothing to do with that." I yelped.

The red-haired ranger walked closer. Her face now inches from mine.

"Your uncle burned our city."

"I know."

"He killed children."

"I know."

"He stole our relics."

"I KNOW!"

Silence. Wonderful. Now I was shouting at murder elves. My survival instincts continued to impress. Her eyes narrowed. Then..

CRACK.

Her fist slammed into my jaw. The world exploded. Mud hit my face. Pain screamed through my skull. I tasted blood immediately. The surrounding rangers laughed. One poured ale onto my back. Another kicked dirt onto me. Humiliation burned hotter than pain.

The red-haired ranger grabbed my hair and yanked me upward effortlessly. Her strength was absurd.

"You speak when permitted."

She shoved me forward.

"Move."

The gates opened, and I entered hell. Inside was a sprawling military city built into nature itself. Massive barracks, Training grounds, Blacksmiths, Weapon racks, Mounted units, Tower bridges, Tree platform sniper nests, Underground tunnels, Watch posts, Market lanes, Medical halls, Execution platforms.

Everywhere I looked: Women. Beautiful. Powerful. Armed. Watching me. Judging me. Hating me. And somewhere deeper inside all of it. Captain Hannah Icetear waited. The woman my family had gifted me to. The woman who would decide whether my future involved training…Or suffering.

As I walked deeper into the city of crimson warriors, one horrifying realization settled into my bones. If the women at the gate were merely guards…What kind of monster commanded them?

And why did I suddenly feel like my life had already ended the moment I crossed Verdant Gate?