One Woman Army

Andruil held many titles. 

Dawn Elf. Fey. Lover. Advisor. Prisoner. Traitor. Ally. Friend. Survivor. Rebel. 

Title upon title, she gained and outgrew. Always in motion, always in a run, running to reach a home she had once forgotten but now remembered. Seeking a demon she had not recognized but cared for regardless, until he had gone and she had remembered. 

To remember a love only after it’s gone it’s a torturous existence.

Luckily, Andruil is well used to pain. 

A prisoner for a millennia, a traitor to a society drenched in betrayal. A survivor to the end, one of the rebels, a woman who had lost everything and then lost some more in the form of the Six so that the world could regain its hope. Always the last one standing, on a battlefield covered with the blood and bodies of her allies and friends alike. Over and over again, Andruil endured the hunt and survived. 

She who guides through inevitable sacrifice. Lady of Fortune. Huntress. Survivor. 

As the memories slipped back into her head through Titania’s song, she remembered the meaning of her name and could not help but laugh in disbelief at the aptness of it. 

Against all odds, she had prevailed over and over again, guided by her goddess as she transversed a world where song had been choked out and the moonlight could barely reach the city's surface. She had hunted in the end of the world, luck guiding her path, as she and the rebels slowly traversed the path to Cronus’ inevitable sacrifice. 

It is a cold comfort, to know the sacrifice had been inevitable. A cold comfort to pass by the statues and see the people that they had lost. To remember Adatiel’s kindness and hope and know she would never have tea with her, to see Zeke’s smile and know she would never see it again, to see Marisol and remember she will never eat her cooking, never chat quietly with Gabriel as they peered out into Forsaken Rome, never catch a glimpse of Titania and Mars talking quietly by the fire, never see the man that had saved her from the Underdark because Kaan was gone. 

It’s a cold comfort, to know that their survival was ensured by people better than any of them would ever be. And yet, she wants to honor that sacrifice, wants to shelter the flame of hope and goodness that they had died to set ablaze.