Chapter 1: The Last Man

Nuada's sleep was usually restless. It was in his dreams that memories of the past had always come flooding back to torment him. The endless war with humanity had scarred him not only physically, but also mentally and emotionally. His self-imposed exile did not help matters either. However, he had never really been alone in his exile. Relocating to the States and living near the Troll Market had meant that he was always close to his people. He was still their prince. Not to mention Mr. Wink had been a good friend for many millennia and he was never too far away. Yet, in his soul, he felt alone. The connection between him and his sister had dulled. He rarely saw her or their father in person. No matter how warm a lover would keep his bed, it would never melt the harsh coldness of his heart. He had always warned that the hole in the heart of mankind could never be filled, but he was beginning to suspect the same was happening to him. The further into obscurity his people sank, the bigger the wound became. He felt the only way to save his people was to end the infection that was mankind. He spent enough time amongst the humans to learn their language and to gauge how they interacted with each other and the world. He knew some of them were doing their best to 'save the planet' as it were, but he could never see it as being enough. Being Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, they would always carry the sin of death and decay.

Even now, he dreamt of their destruction. His dreams were always the same - him releasing the Golden Army to destroy the humans and save his people. How bittersweet it was when he awoke to find his dreams had not yet come true. Tonight, however, his dreams were different. In this dreamscape he woke up beside a massive tree in the middle of a forest. A blue ethereal glow set upon everything in sight. Fireflies flitted about. Save for the cricket song, it was quiet and peaceful. Nuada rose to his feet and noticed he was clothed in all black and that his feet were bare. He had been enjoying the diverse life that thrived in this little safe haven when a flash of orange in the distance caught his attention. The silhouette of a person ran through the trees and a ghostly voice called his name as the figure disappeared. Who was that? Nuada, of course, felt compelled to follow. Time made little difference in this dream, what felt like minutes could have been seconds or vice versa. The pale prince did not know how long he had ran after the figure but he suddenly found himself at the edge of the forest. Beyond the treeline was another world. Brows furrowed together. What is this? White sand stretched out flat before him and was met by the steady rise of dunes. A deep blue sky joined the horizon of sand to offer another stark contrast. This place was bright, tinged in the orange hue of a blazing sun, but as he stepped out of the shade of the forest, he felt no heat. No life stirred here. Even the trees that pockmarked this landscape were mere dead husks. In the middle of all of this was a large stone structure. The figure he saw earlier was in the distance adorned with orange clothing and ascending the steps of this structure.

Nuada moved to follow once more, this time with more speed in his step. Once inside the structure turned into a maze. He would have gotten lost were it not for the distant shuffle of footsteps. This structure almost looked like the inside of a sandstone cave. Rays of light flooded in from above every so often. The walls were carved into various intricate patterns and complex scenes depicting everyday life, similar to the hieroglyphics of Egypt. Nuada instinctively ran his hand across the rough surface as he went along in complete awe. Had he been here before? He could not recall ever visiting the desert, though he knew there to be such an environment in western America. Just like in the forest, he felt at peace here even with it seemingly being devoid of life.

Again, there was no telling how much time had passed before he found himself in a large, dark room. When golden eyes flicked up, he saw millions of stars greet him. When had the day become night? Where am I? The figure was now laying on the floor of a balcony that overlooked the valley below. Fires blazed beyond. Nuada slowly approached the figure suddenly aware that he had no weapons. The closer he got, the more he could make out that the figure was a woman. He carefully bent down in front of her and pushed brunette hair from her face. His breathing hitched. Whenever he tried to focus on the features of her face, they seemed to shift. She looked like every female and none with each passing second. She coughed and spurted blood. It was then that Nuada noticed the blood pooling on the floor and staining through her clothes from a wound in the abdomen. Eyes that never settled on a color, gazed up into his. Fingers brushed across his royal scar as he reluctantly cradled her in his arms. "Why?" she asked him in a cracked voice. And again in a fading whisper as life left her body.

The prince found himself slightly panicking. Who is this woman? Who-

The sound of an explosion severed his thoughts. He placed the woman upon the floor and peered down into the valley. Blood and death met his eyes. All he could see for miles and miles were bodies of man and faerie alike and streams of red and gold blood and fire. Screams of anguish and gunfire met his ears, the putrefaction and burning of skin met his nose. He wanted to throw up but was too shocked to do anything but stare at the mayhem before him. The Golden Army wreaked havoc upon the masses of humans but humans were never satisfied with going quietly or without a fight. The devastation they had released in defense had smote the earth. Millions of lives were caught in the crossfire and lay in piles. Death wasn't picky here. This world had turned red and black, with never-ending darkness only to be punctuated by the glittering gold of the troll made army and the flashes of explosions from nuclear weapons. "What happened?" He heard himself ask in complete disbelief.

"You happened." Was the reply from behind him.

Nuada whirled around ready to strike but again he had no weapon. It was the woman! She stood before him now, clothes still stained with blood. She was pale and her features kept changing, but the hair oddly remained the same. She moved passed him and observed the chaos below. "You did this," she continued. "You killed the world and everyone in it."

Everything suddenly went silent and still. The Golden Army was in irreparable pieces, faerie and human all laid dead. To his horror, Nuada could see his sister and father among the dead along with Mr. Wink. His knees felt weak. This had turned into a nightmare. "This is your fate. This is what you wanted."

The elf shook his head, "No...no, not this."

"You will be the last of your kind here, of any kind. The last man."

Nuada sank to the floor as the revelation hit him. How?! This cannot be real. I must be dreaming.

The woman knelt beside him and touched his chest, "This is your future but it doesn't have to be this way. I can help you."

Golden eyes flicked up to that indiscernible face, "Who are you?!"

The woman smiled, or so he thought, as she stood up once more. The structured had morphed around her and the balcony turned into a grand staircase that she then descended. Nuada watched as she stepped across the burnt battlefield over twisted and torn bodies. Blood soaked into the hems of her trousers and through her sandals but none of it fazed her as she continued through and up a sand dune. At the top of it, she turned to Nuada and motioned for him to follow. He suddenly felt very cold, as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice. His breathing became short and rasped as he struggled to get on his feet once more. His body refused to work properly as he stumbled towards the stairs. With a sudden sense of vertigo, he fell head first onto the staircase and unceremoniously rolled to the bottom. He had expected his head to hit something hard but instead it softly thudded into a blanket of sand. It was bright again. The desertscape had returned. There were no more bodies or blood, no Golden Army, only sand. The woman was suddenly towering above him, looking upon him with questioning eyes. "Nuada? Prince Nuada?" The feminine voice faded and morphed into that of a man. Nuada blinked and was met with the facade of an elven acquaintance.

"Your Highness?"

Nuada snapped awake and swiftly rose from his bed, frantically searching around his room before golden eyes met Atheo's green ones. "Good dream?" The other questioned with a cheeky grin.