An army, several thousand strong, marched in an unbroken column down the dusty road, the rhythmic thump of drumbeats and the clattering of armor reverberating across the landscape. The column did not slow as it approached the village ahead; it marched straight through the singular gates, a serpent winding its way into the heart of the settlement.

  Two guards stood by the gate, their gazes flickering nervously over the troops. They wanted to offer a welcoming smile, perhaps a salute, but the atmosphere made it clear such gestures would go unnoticed. These were not retiring warriors returning home with pride; these were soldiers whose work was not yet done, their faces showing that of unfinished purpose.

  The army coiled into the village center, forming tightly packed rows. Elron, riding at its front, dismounted his elk with deliberate grace and strode toward an elderly elf leaning on a cane, his beard long and white.

  “Are you the head of this quaint village?” Elron asked, bowing slightly, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of authority.

  The elder squinted, barely able to keep his eyes open, his voice a dry rasp. “Aye. Who might you be?”

  Leaning in close, Elron whispered in his ear, “I am Prince Elron, leader of this army.” He glanced around the village, lowering his voice further. “Tell me, who all lives here?”

  A crowd began to gather, families trickling out of their homes, clutching their children close, unsure of what was about to unfold.

  The elder chuckled, though his jovialness did little to hide his unease. “Are you seeking someone in particular? This is a simple place. No one of note lives here, and certainly no one worthy of the elven army’s attention.”

  Elron straightened, his expression hardening. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword as he replied, “I’m looking for any strong humans, ascendants, or even celestials.”

  The elder stroked his beard, deep in thought. “There are no strong ones here. A few High Elves, maybe, but nothing else.”

  “Kael, the document,” Elron ordered with a flick of his hand.

  Kael approached, rummaging through his satchel before pulling out a scroll. “Here, this should be the right one.”

  Elron snatched the scroll, unrolling it with practiced ease. He began to read, but his eyes narrowed in confusion as the words rolled out of his mouth. “By decree and sovereign law of Aethoria, all women must wear short, pink mini skirts...”

  He paused, his gaze lifting to the elder’s now wide, toothless grin.

  “What the fuck is this?” Elron spat, hurling the scroll into Kael’s face.

  Kael flushed, fumbling with the scroll. “Ah, wrong one. I was saving that for a, uh, different proposal—”

  Elron’s eyes blazed with fury. The air around him seemed to thicken with tension. “The right document, now.”

  Kael scrambled, nearly tripping over himself as he retrieved another scroll. “Here, here—this one!”

  Elron let out a sharp breath, smoothing the scroll before reading aloud. “...all those of non-elvish heritage under your domain shall forfeit their assets, titles, and selves immediately.”

  At that, a horn blasted through the air, and the army of elves moved like a wave, crashing through the village. Elves entered every home, corralling families into the streets. Those not of elven blood were immediately placed in chains. Cries of resistance rang out, but they were swiftly silenced by squads of soldiers who pulled no punches.

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  The elder poked his cane into the center of Elron’s chest plate, the small ding of metal ringing out as he snarled, “The king would never allow this! We were meant to all live in harmony.”

  Elron’s cold gaze shifted to a human being dragged into the street in chains. “Harmony?!” he sneered, pointing at the man. “It’s because of them that our country is in disarray. You’re too blind to see it.”

  Screams echoed from the village’s outskirts as elves descended upon the more extravagant homes—wooden structures built by non-elves from the forest’s bounty. Slyra emerged, dragging a human woman by her hair, the woman clawing at her scalp to avoid losing clumps of it.

  “Do you want us to separate the children too?” Slyra asked as she covered a yawn.

  “Please!” the elder cried, his voice cracking. “Leave my villagers alone!”

  Elron sighed, though it carried little compassion. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll leave the women and children—but only if they are kept as slaves.”

  The elder’s eyes widened in horror. “Slaves?! We’ve returned to the days of old...” He looked around helplessly.

  His shoulders sagged. “I have no choice but to agree...”

  Inside one of the larger trees of the village, a makeshift command center had been set up. A handful of High Elves stood around a long horizontal table, their expressions grim. Outside, lines of women were being held by soldiers, forced to wait their turn.

  Elron stood behind the gathered High Elves, arms crossed. “So, how will this work, Kael? I’m trusting you’ve thought this through.”

  Kael smirked, a cocky gleam in his eye. “Pff, I’m a Bindmancer now. This is child’s play.” He reached for a glowing iron rod from the fire place and held it up. “I’ve imbued a rod with each individual’s mana signature. As long as the subject's willpower is low enough, the seal will take hold.”

  Elron leaned in to examine the glowing end of the rod, its symbol pulsing with arcane energy. “Hm, even the emblem is different.”

  "Well, yeah, how else would the magically ill-inclined know who’s owned by who?" Kael smirked.

  Elron gave a low hum of approval, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. "Well done, my friend. Now, get this started so we can move out."

  One of the high elves, standing nearby, hesitated before stepping forward. "My prince," she stammered, her voice betraying her unease.

  Elron’s expression softened as he turned toward her, noticing the worry etched into her face. "What’s the matter?" he asked, his voice measured.

  She glanced briefly at the weeping woman seated in front of her, then back to Elron. "We elves... we are a peaceful people. We do not wish to take slaves. Please, reconsider this," she implored, her voice trembling.

  Elron held her gaze, his features hardening. "I understand your reluctance, but our race can no longer afford to be peaceful. If we allow them to go unchecked, they will exploit us until there's nothing left." His voice dropped, colder now. "Our prosperity requires strength."

  With a firm hand, he pulled a glowing, scalding-hot branding iron from the fire and extended it toward her. "I swear, as your prince and your future king, this is the right path forward." The branding iron hovered between them, a symbol of his command and her compliance.

  Her hand trembled as she accepted the iron, its heat radiating through the air. She looked down at the woman's bare wrist, and a deep, shuddering breath escaped her lips. Her eyes flicked back to Elron one last time, searching for any hint of mercy. But his firm nod was all the reassurance she would receive.

  She raised the branding iron high, hesitating for only a moment before slamming it down onto the woman’s flesh. A shriek tore through the room, the human woman jolting violently as guards held her in place. The acrid smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and as the iron lifted, a glowing band of archaic symbols formed around the woman’s wrist, with a unique emblem marking her as chattel.

  The branded woman clutched her arm, tears streaming down her face as she was quickly ushered out of the room. Another human woman stepped forward, her eyes wide with terror, visibly sweating as the next iron was heating up for her turn.

  The room soon echoed with the wails of the enslaved, each cry of agony punctuated by the hiss of the branding irons striking flesh. The air grew thick with the overwhelming stench of charred skin, and Elron’s vision blurred. His head spun, the weight of the act pressing in on him. He couldn’t bear to stay any longer.

  With a sharp turn, he strode out of the room, his jaw clenched. As he passed his soldiers, he shouted, "Rest while you can! We have a hard march ahead of us!"