Somewhere in the South Pacific

Life is inseparable from death, just as light is permanently intertwined with darkness; both opposites that come together, despite their ageless rivalry, to form the very framework of existence. Hand in hand they go, each the side of a mutual coin, whose toss will always land on one side, and then surely the next. And between these two decisive forces lies death's close relative, which is sleep, who mirrors its elder kin and yet lacks its commitment; like a performance, it is but a play of the real thing, a rehearsal for the true stillness that follows the endless toil of mortal beings. Sleep, those loathsome slices of death! Never has it failed in its transient power, for it puts even the most powerful beings on their backs. Unconsciousness, like this daily death we call sleep, is a void that mirrors our final undoing, smothering and yet comforting in its nothingness. There are no troubles, no fears, and no pains whilst in its arms; all things fade away when surrounded by its opaque veil. It was out of this overpowering darkness that Holly rose, awakening to the world of the living—a world that she had almost been wrenched from, yet still clung to by bare threads. From nothingness came the sensations, smells, and eventual sights of her circumstance, and when the veil was lifted from her mind she slowly took them all in. Pain was suddenly striking her, sharp and throbbing, and the smell of burning was everywhere, so thick and mighty in the air that it even made her gag inside her helmet. She opened her eyes, blinking back involuntary tears, and saw the distorted orb of the sun through a roiling haze of smoke, which in turn was twisted by her blurred vision and the grime that was spattered upon her helmet's cracked visor.

For a long moment she stared, disoriented by the suddenness of the flood of awareness. It was after a minute or so that she pieced her mind back together, collecting herself and realizing where she was and why she was there. She felt sand beneath her, and clenched it in her right hand, whilst at the same time tilting her head to the left to see the ocean no more than fifty feet away, its waves lapping against the shore and making a gentle rhythm. Then she looked to her right, and saw a towering inferno that had once been her ship. This made her sit up quickly, which she regretted instantly. A terrible pain shot up her leg, making her wince and curse under her breath. She looked down instinctively, pulled up the leg of her recon suit, and saw that her left leg was indeed broken. It had a compound fracture, the bone literally jutting out of the flesh, though thankfully just barely. Her magic was swirling madly around it, but it could not mend it with the bone so far out of place. Setting her jaw and thinking quickly—remembering her training—Holly used her own hands to press the bone inwards so that her magic could do the rest. It hurt like hell, each time she pressed it inwards feeling like it would make her pass out, and as she worked it in with a very furious expression she bit her lip and drew a dark rivulet of blood. One final effort repositioned the broken bone in such a way that the magic could work, and as it did so Holly lay back, breathing heavily from the sheer agony she had felt. Only then did she take another look at her surroundings.

Not too long ago she had been underground, surrounded by stone and darkness. Now, in a ridiculous change of scenery, she was sitting on a tropical beach, surrounded by pristine sand and washed up seaweed. Of course, the burning shuttle to her right broke the scene, as every soothing wave upon the shoreline was punctuated by the roar of flames and small explosions from within the wreckage. Holly sighed, looking upwards to see black smoke mingling with a clear blue sky. Truly, if this was the sort of vacation the divines had in mind for her, it was in very poor taste. She cursed under her breath and, glaring at everything, got to her feet, her broken leg having been mended by her magic. She was lucky that she had no other major injuries, though she likely had many that were healed before she had awoken. It was best to not think about then, and focus on now.

The elf, all covered in sand and mud, looked towards her ship and saw her pilot's seat partially embedded in the sand a dozen meters in front of it. It would seem that the ejector seat had worked—only after her ship had collided with a small hill. This made her frown, but she could not complain. Had she been in that ship, she would be dead. So too, had her buckles not snapped at the right moment, would she be dead by being crushed by her own ejected seat—ironic, and terribly disgraceful. Overall it was a bizarre but merciful alignment of chances that had saved her life, and as she gazed at the destruction, she silently thanked the gods.

Holly then walked back to her ejected seat, moving noiselessly upon the sand. The seat had an emergency survival kit in a compartment on its back, which she took and slung over her back. It was only scorched by a passing laser shot, so it would still be useful—unlike almost everything else. There was also a pulse rifle mounted vertically in the compartment, and luckily it too was unharmed; to have only her neutrino at a time like this was not an appealing thing. With a fierce expression she took the combat rifle and, after checking it over, held it readily in her hands. Now fully geared up and armed to the teeth, Holly glanced around the shoreline, her hazel eyes—so lit up by the sunlight and fire alike—searching for threats. She was alone, for now, but it was clear that this place was inhabited by her enemy. The lack of their immediate presence made her wonder how long she had been unconscious for, because in all honesty she had torn through the heart of their facility with a blazing ship and carved through a kilometer of forest, leaving a nice big bonfire at the end. Judging by the progression of the fire, and the position of the sun, it had been no more than three minutes. She didn't want to think about what would have happened had her enemy caught her in such a vulnerable position, but even as she scanned her surroundings, dark premonitions rose up to disturb her, bringing to mind all the things that may happen next. Again she ignored them, instead skirting around the burning wreckage of her ship and climbing up the sandy hill that stood between her and the forested inland. From there she could see the trail of destruction she had left, and the small mountains in the distance from which she had emerged. Nothing moved but those trees, swaying slightly in a warm tropical breeze, but this did not make her feel any more secure. If anything, this stillness was unsettling, unnatural, and outright foreboding.

As a cadet, she had been taught about this sort of situation. Crashed on the surface, unable to call for support, and deep behind enemy lines, were all important considerations in the academy with regard to proper survival methods, but despite that training Holly was not very inclined to follow it to the letter, not because it was wrong, but because the first order of business it would recommend was building a bivouac. She had better things to do than making a cozy camping spot, such as not getting hunted down and killed by her enemies. She needed to get on the move, and stay that way until she could determine what exactly she was up against. Stopping only meant making herself an easy target.

Quickly moving across the short stretch of sand, Holly entered the forest, going from a world brightly lit by the sun into one cast in shadow and filled with the convoluted organization of nature. Pandan, coconut palms, ferns, and numerous other flora completely covered the earth, enveloping it in a cloak of greens and browns, a stark contrast to the lifeless sand behind her. Tropical flowers and fruits could be seen regularly, and Holly, despite being in the worst situation of her professional life, took a moment to gaze upon it. This was actually the first time she had been in such a forest—all of her past surface missions had been around Europe. Still, it was an appreciation that soon passed, like all pleasures amidst the hard moments in life. With a firm countenance the elf moved on, pressing through the foliage and distancing herself from the crash site as efficiently as she could manage. She could still smell the smoke, and see the glare of fire through the gaps in the trees. Only after a few minutes did it fade away, leaving her truly submerged in the forest, alone for the time being.

The heat was stifling, and the humidity clung to everything, leaving droplets of water that glistened in the rays of sunlight that broke through the thick canopy above. Holly trudged onward, up the rising landscape, ignoring her discomfort and focusing on her surroundings. Wiping condensation from her cracked visor, she glanced upwards to the sky, which was visible through a break in the wondrous ceiling of the trees. It was only morning, and it was going to be a very hot day. Just perfect for running through forests and getting shot at, she thought, absentmindedly slinging her pulse rifle over her shoulder.

No sooner had she done this when a familiar sound rolled overhead, and upon hearing it her eyes went wide and her whole body rigid; a fight or flight response, natural and yet astonishing in its abnormal rapidity. She was suddenly shouldering her pulse rifle, out of instinct, and her gaze was directed upwards towards the gaps in the trees. There was a ship coming, and fast. She could not remain in the open like this.

Holly wasted no time in sprinting through the brush in search of adequate cover; she ran and ran, swiftly over the treacherous terrain, determined and yet loathe to flee like a hunted animal, which she technically was. There was no helping it. She found her refuge after vaulting over a log and landing waist-deep in muddy water, and despite this setback she pushed towards it quickly. A recently uprooted tree had formed a small haven with its roots, which still had tenacious earth clinging to them in massive clumps. Holly rushed underneath the cover of earth and root and pressed herself as deep in as she could, facing outwards with her rifle ready. She was breathing heavily, and her whole body was ready for a fight, but she remained dead still, fighting against her natural urges and becoming one with the uprooted tree. The sound of the incoming ship had reached its peak by now, and it ushered in the shadow of the vessel passing overhead. It was moving at moderate speed, clearly towards the crash site. Holly waited, listening carefully, and only after there were no signs of the enemy did she let herself move. With a relieved exhalation she slid down to a sitting position, and though she still kept her weapon directed out into the forest, she let her body rest. She was tired, so very tired, and she only seemed to notice now. It is remarkable how people can ignore the natural forces that assail their mortal forms when they are in crises. Fear, more than anything it would seem, drives all mortal things to push beyond their perceived limits, and Holly was certainly afraid, as anyone would be in her position. However, that fear was natural, and she managed it well, keeping her mind on a proper track rather than falling victim to it. If there was anything that would save her now, it was a clear head. She needed to think right, or die.

Giving time for herself to calm down, Holly took off her cracked helmet and set it on her lap, letting the fresh air touch her face and fill her lungs. It was the sticky, scented air of a tropical forest, but it was good—it was natural, with its own unique character, as Holly always found in nature's special little enclaves. As she enjoyed this relief, she tenderly massaged her leg, which was still a little sore after the healing and subsequent exertion. Once again she found reason to be thankful; she was lucky to be alive. This thought inevitably took her to the pressing questions that begged to be answered. She did not know where she was for starters, as not only were there no islands mapped out in the region she was operating in, but there was also no connection to the outside world. Her communicator, still on her utility belt, was still utterly useless, incapable of reaching any signals, not even those of human satellites. Something was cutting her off from the world, and the island, which was not supposed to exist, certainly had something to do with it.

"Great, I guess I'm on my own for now," Holly whispered as she stared out into the forest, her hazel eyes slightly narrowed. Indeed she was, though most certainly not alone. The entire island, she assumed, was being used by her enemy, and somewhere on it was Belenos. To know he was there with her was an odd feeling, in that it was like having some sort of dreadful mystery barely hidden yet within arm's reach. A hundred years ago her mother had uncovered the mystery of his clandestine ambitions, and had begun a small war against him and his allies. Now it was Holly, unearthing him again whilst his ambitions undoubtedly flourished. The connection was surreal, and despite the importance of keeping her eyes on the world around her, Holly let her mind temporarily lapse into reminiscence, settling upon the memory of Coral like a flake of snow upon a rose petal, gently and without a sound. In moments she was smiling, sadness and warmth competing on the battlefield of her countenance, and it was amidst the gloomy realm of her foes that she found her inner strength renewed by a force just as deeply rooted in herself. She may have been on her own, and she may have been hunted like a beast, but she was not at the end of her rope, nor was she through with her mission. No, her mother had taught her that in times like this, there was every reason to keep going strong. She had no reason to despair, not when she still had a sound body, a sound mind, and a rifle in her hands. Knowing her past performance, she was still very much capable of changing the tide. And she would—or die trying.

Unknown Location, South Pacific

The glare of computer monitors and holographic displays was challenged by the haze of smoke that hung in the air like a weightless veil, reducing the light and giving the gloom more opportunity to expand its territory. Shadows crept from the corners, the nooks and crannies, all silent and perfectly innocuous, and yet so very ominous in the way they slowly advanced whenever the light was halved by thick palls of smoke. This sort of gloomy environment would not be pleasant to most, especially with the acrid smoke in the air, but for Major Belenos Æthelryth, it was optimal. He liked the darkness, the shadow, the outright insidious nature of it; he felt anything but oppressed in its realm, so much at home in its otherworldly hand. After so many years of battling himself and having to cope with his past failures, he had discovered that the darkness was helpful, very much a good friend, and so he had spent all of his time alone in it, where his thoughts could grow unabated by the world beyond—like a fungus growing in a dark, damp cave, the products of his mind flourished. Aside from that, it also attributed a degree of mysteriousness to his character, which his subordinates found highly intimidating. It served him well to be respected—and feared—by those beneath him, though it was always a struggle to decide which was better for a commander, to be feared or to be loved. Both had their place, though love mattered less at the moment. What Belenos wanted more than anything was objectivity, dedication, and results—commitment to the mission more so than the leader himself.

Belenos' face was the very image of these principles as he regarded the screens before him. He was watching a number of surveillance feeds, replaying footage and analyzing it in detail. A fungus cigar, now burnt down to its very stump, was in his right hand, and after taking one last pull from it the elf absentmindedly jammed it down into a tray, smothering its glowing end and bringing forth one last cloud of acrid smoke. His emerald eyes never left the main screen, and his solid countenance did not waver.

"Always expect the unexpected…" he said to himself, then taking his eyes from the screen and looking towards the wall. He pressed a button on his desk, and the wall suddenly parted in the middle, silently moving to either side and giving way to a flood of bright light. The elf didn't even squint at the sudden change in ambiance, as if his eyes could adjust instantly. Before him lay a view of the tropical island he called his own, through a window so clean that there seemed to be nothing between them at all. The forests and hills stretched out until they reached the glittering blue of the Pacific, where only a thin band of sand separated the two. He eyed it with a serious composure. This was his land, no, the People's land, and it was the first piece of the surface to be reclaimed ever since the wars of old.

He had claimed the island after years of hiding in the lost tunnels beneath the Pacific, in 1895, and from then onward he and his remaining followers had created a refuge upon it, relying on technology to hide it from the humans and the Lower Elements Police. Their current nonexistence was in part due to a refractive barrier projected around the entire island and the reefs beyond, making it impossible to see visually or by any imaging technology; the rest was taken care of by a myriad of electronic countermeasures. Only once had the island truly been seen by humanity, back in 1902, when the refractive barrier had not been fully operational. A small portion of the reefs had been spotted by the captain of a French vessel named the ErnestLegouvé, hence its subsequent name ErnestLegouvé Reef. Though it had been initially recorded, it was later deemed a phantom island by the humans, as by then it had been rendered invisible. The fact that the island's countermeasures had thrown off the French ship's compass and sense of direction the moment it came within a hundred miles also contributed to the fact that the island's actual location was a fair distance away, over three-hundred kilometers southeast of Ahurei, French Polynesia. It was a safe haven in which Belenos could work undisturbed on his plans of reclamation, and due to its very purpose he had decided to name it after the hill on which the People had made their last stand against humanity during the old wars. The Island of Taillte, as he called it, would be the place where the People, who were denied their victory and their heritage all those centuries ago, would once again rise to triumph and reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Hence, Taillte was a prototype of the future, a taste of what it would soon be like to have it all once again. With a small piece of earth in the middle of the ocean it would begin, and from there entire continents would be theirs. It was a glorious image that gleamed in Belenos' imagination, and a slight smile almost appeared on his face despite all of his cold proclivities. However, any sense of mirth was washed away when he set eyes on the tower of black smoke that rose from the far end of the island. It put him in a dark mood to see once more that his countrymen were actively trying to get in his way. Just as before, he was given no choice but to wage war with his kin in order to help them. How many of them must he kill in order to truly save them?! If only they could see the world as I do, he thought, watching as several of his ships flew over the tropical forest near the pillar of smoke. It is a tragedy that we should fight like this. Turned against one another by an ignorance that even the humans cannot fathom!

The door opened behind him, and despite the sound of someone entering he did not turn around. Instead he spoke coolly, not at all uncertain.

"Good morning, Captain."

Captain Vepar Cailleach, fully dressed in tactical gear, stood at attention behind his commander, his fierce visage ever a mask of imperturbability. "Major, I have urgent news to report."

"About the LEP's reconnaissance team, I know," Belenos replied, turning around now to look his subordinate in the eye with his own steely gaze. "The status of the search parties is what you are here to tell me about, correct?"

Vepar simply went right into it, showing nothing but pure dutifulness. "The crash site has been secured, however they have not found any signs of the pilot. He likely escaped into the forests beforehand."

"Why did it take ten minutes for our response team to surround the crash site, meanwhile letting the pilot escape?"

"The LEP ship crashed through the central hangar with its guns firing at random," Vepar stated immediately, ready for the question. "It shot up a number of our ships and caused a lot of confusion. Unfortunately it took us a few minutes to respond with adequate numbers."

"I see," Belenos said, seemingly content with the explanation—he had heard the initial reports and viewed the security footage beforehand, and found it to be conclusive of the current state of affairs. He could not blame his officers for not reaching the site in time. In fact, they had acted quite professionally—as much as one could get after an LEP ship ricocheted through the place like a rock and spewed lasers all over the place like a bat out of hell. Still, it was a perturbing situation, stemming from the failure to destroy the LEP forces while they were still underground. This made Belenos continue down another track of thought. "Lieutenant Zuriel assured me that he would not let anything through," he stated calmly, despite the evident displeasure of his words. "What's the current status of his squadron? I have yet to receive their report."

Vepar stiffened a little, for once a look of something—discomfort, perhaps even real emotion—showing on his intimidating face. "Sir, I regret to inform you that we lost two ships during the engagement with the LEP scouts. We managed to rescue one of the pilots before the collapse, but not Zuriel. The Lieutenant took it upon himself to eliminate their most skilled pilot, but his ship was completely destroyed in the process."

Belenos' brow furrowed just a little, though his eyes never betrayed his innermost feelings. "Lieutenant Zuriel is KIA, I would assume."

Vepar nodded.

It was with a slight frown that Belenos folded his hands on his desk, his emerald eyes now looking off into the distance of memory and morbid contemplation. Zuriel, what a fool he had been to throw away his life so hastily! What an unnecessary loss! The elf's frown deepened a little more, the undulations of his countenance now showing a little of the emotion he felt within. The Lieutenant had always been the most gung-ho of his pilots, a true fighter jockey in every way. He had served Belenos well during their time in the LEP two-hundred years ago, working alongside him in recon and in retrieval, and afterwards in the forgotten Laconus Incident. To hear of his death was naturally a disappointment—and a sorrow, of course—for he had been a comrade in arms, a brother in their mutual cause. He had only so many of those people left, all irreplaceable members of his old team, all more valuable than a thousand raw recruits; to lose one was a harsh blow, and to lose them all was unthinkable. Nevertheless, Belenos was not visibly upset. This was war, and that meant that there would be casualties. Zuriel had been too rash, and he had paid for it with his life. Such was the reality of war. Belenos swiftly went through all of this inner contemplation, and subsequently thought about the fact that his forces needed a new wing commander. "I see," he said calmly, unfolding his hands and looking at Vepar once more. "Appoint Lieutenant Purson to take over his command."

"Yes sir."

"Now, with regard to the LEP fugitive we have in our midst," Belenos continued, thinking now of the pilot who had bested his Lieutenant and warranted the deployment of half his forces. "Deploy retrieval teams one through five, have them take up positions around the search area." He paused for Vepar to acknowledge his command, also seeing in the elf's eyes a subtle eagerness that was not strong enough to make him blurt out his request. Belenos did it for him. "Your team will be assigned the task of actively tracking the target in the operation area. The other teams will cage in the target and coordinate with yours if necessary."

Captain Cailleach nodded stoically, though behind his veneer of dutifulness there was a great deal of anticipation. Belenos could see right through him, though his thoughts were on his foe, who was somewhere on the island nursing his wounds. It was a debacle for sure, but it mattered little in the end. The island was not a large place, and the lone LEP pilot was surely not well equipped for a long operation. Sooner or later, he would be found. She… Belenos corrected, an idea coming to him at the very same moment. There was no intelligence on who was piloting that ship, but judging by the way it was piloted and the sheer tenacity of its occupant, he could easily guess. Yes, it had to be her, most certainly. Once again the past and future met in the twilight of his plans.

"Track her down with all due haste," he said after a moment. "It is Captain Short we are dealing with, I know that now. She is too dangerous to be left wandering around our island." She may blow the lid on my plan, just as you did a hundred years ago, Coral…

"How do you want us to handle her?" Vepar asked, as stone cold as ever.

Belenos thought about it for a moment—whether or not to authorize lethal force against the daughter of his old friend. He had already accepted that she would have to die eventually, but now, when his words would be as potent as pulling the trigger himself, he thought again. Perhaps there could be other uses for her. Perhaps something could be gained from taking her alive. Or maybe, despite all of his years of being a callous soldier interested only in his mission, the old ties of friendship and respect still had influence in his heart. He didn't consider the latter, instead focusing on the rational motivations for the others. He made up his mind promptly.

"Take her alive if the opportunity presents itself, but do not let her escape, no matter what. If you need to kill her in order to accomplish that objective then so be it, just remove her from the equation as soon as you can." He paused, a slight smile appearing on his face—a bitter one. "Apart from Julius himself, and perhaps Vinyáya, she's the last officer I'd want roaming around here. You have your orders, Captain. Dismissed."

Captain Cailleach saluted and took his leave with an air of supreme dutifulness, and once the door was shut behind him, Major Belenos turned around again to view the tropical paradise that had become his reality—a paradise rife with dark secrets and wretched truths, all necessitated by the mission that was entrenched in the hearts and minds of all the forgotten soldiers in Laconus' ranks. Belenos watched as the pillar of dark smoke continued to rise and sully the blue sky with its filth, and could not help but think of all the smoke that would soon rise from the very heart of human civilization. He had it all planned out, but everything was coming to a climactic finish with the LEP on his tail. With the subterranean tunnels collapsed, his foes were cut off, because given the contrived method used to conceal the island they could not possibly find him from the surface. For now it was the same as before, a scorched earth strategy, cutting back and digging deep. All he needed was a little more time, and he knew that the only one who could really topple it all was Holly Short, who by fate and chance had ended up tangled in an affair that was as much a family matter as it was a military one. That elf continued to surprise him at every turn, and bring back bitter memories of a past life in which he had had everything and yet nothing. Belenos wondered, as his emerald eyes watched the smoke, what it would have been like to be on her side, to not have to kill each other. It brought him back to the days in LEPmarine with Coral, and the childhood they had shared as friends, but as quickly as the memories came he shut them out. It was too late for all of that. Far too late.

Outside the office, in the well-lit corridor leading through the facility's main level, Captain Vepar Cailleach walked purposefully to carry out his orders—which coincided with his desires, which he always suppressed due to his loyalty and professionalism. He wore the tactical gear that he had donned during the battle a hundred years ago, though it was heavily modified and improved to match anything the LEP could throw at them presently. On his shoulder was the insignia of Belenos' once esteemed brigade, Drakon, bearing the image of a dragon, and his old beret bearing the same image was tucked in its pouch on his vest, faded and worn by time and use. Immediately upon exiting his commander's office he had come face to face with the rest of his squad, all of whom had been eagerly awaiting orders to engage the enemy that had so recklessly breached their refuge and had, in their eyes, killed one of their comrades. They were all fully geared up and armed to the teeth, ready for the mission at hand. When Captain Cailleach gave them the almighty nod, they fell in seamlessly, walking with a stoicism that bespoke the hardness of their minds and the purposeful coldness of their hearts. Others joined then, from other teams, bringing their total number to sixty operatives. Sixty versus one were quite the piled odds, and that wasn't even including the aircraft that would provide support or the three teams that were already deployed. Vepar had seen a lot in his years of military service, but he had yet to see a lone mortal singlehandedly best his elite soldiers, let alone half of Laconus' might. He was certain that this vexatious LEP captain, Holly Short, would either be in a body bag or in chains before evening.

Somewhere on the Island of Taillte

The sun had reached its zenith in the gentle blue firmament, marking the end of morning and the coming of afternoon, and its warm, midday rays shot through the holes in the tropical forest's canopy like beams of pure gold, made all the more pronounced by the humidity and the vapor hanging in the air. Holly did not feel their warm touch as she trudged through the jungle, her rifle in hand and her recon gear covered in mud; her mind was on the very important task of staying alive, not the pleasantries of hiking through a tropical forest, which were quite few to begin with. She wore a perpetually serious expression, and her hazel eyes, so sharp and attentive to detail, scanned the convoluted world around her with great wariness. The enemy could be anywhere, and she wanted to see them first. In circumstances like these, victory was decided by the one who could pull the trigger first, often by a mere second's advantage. Holly did not want to lose her life because one of Belenos' cronies got the drop on her; the very thought of it made her sick.

Only ten minutes ago she had been forced to leave her refuge beneath the uprooted tree, once more cast into the tangle of the forest and all of its natural dangers—and potentially into barrels of her enemy's rifles. She knew that it was best to keep moving through the forest, lest she remain still and allow her foes to encircle her. Even still, it was just as hazardous navigating through the gloom, never knowing when a laser shot would fly out from behind all the obscuring walls of foliage. This made her nerves raw, and all of the sounds of the forest served to make it worse, as she was not at all used to a jungle environment; its smells, its sights, and its very atmosphere were novelties that she had never been exposed to. After those first ten minutes she found herself extremely on edge, and she chose to take a break on a relatively dry patch of ground beneath a looming tree. There she let her nerves lose their biting edge, and in the meantime she continued to listen to the world around her, memorizing the natural sounds and movements of the forest so that anything else would stand out to her. Her field rations provided enough energy to last her awhile, and her standard-issue purification canteen let her drink any water she came across without worrying about sickness. During this brief breather she had her fill of such essential things, as there was no knowing when she would be able to do so again. She also ensured that her gear was properly modified. The fact was that her helmet, communicator, and weapon had small chips inside of them that were meant to be tracked by her colleagues in Haven—though they did little against the island's countermeasures—and naturally she assumed that Belenos could track her via them as well. With her combat knife she had removed the chips and any other locating equipment to the best of her ability, leaving it hidden in her previous hiding spot in hopes that the enemy would waste time surrounding it. Yet having distanced herself from the decoy, she felt no more secure. Though her recon gear masked her heat signature from imaging technology, it did not make her invisible, and she certainly could not maintain a shielding with what little magic she had left. At one point or another, Belenos' operatives would find her, and as she took her breather the elf silently went over her training in her head, preparing herself for the inevitable. It was all about survival now, the most fundamental of goals for a living creature, and piled against that objective were a number of fairies who had received the same training as her and had decades more experience. To think that she was up against foes who had once been in the same unit as her, and in retrieval, was a very sobering fact for Holly.

Just remember your orders, she told herself. Do not die.

On her feet again, she pressed through the thick foliage with one hand while keeping her pulse rifle handy with the other. It was not a minute later when she heard the distinct sound of waves moving gently against the shore, and that made her check the sun's position to confirm that she had not been going in circles. The absence of smoke or enemy ships were further confirmation that she was not at the same shoreline as before, and so, with great care, she climbed over a fallen tree and peered out into the startling brightness of the day.

Beyond the forest was a small cove, no more than two-hundred meters across and three-hundred in from the sea itself, though it was packed with unnatural contrivances, all rusted and contorted by decay. There were several human vessels, of numerous origins, run aground in the shallow inlet, and Holly regarded them with particular interest, now walking parallel to them just within the tree line. The one closest to her had once been a warship of some kind, and it was now tilted on its port side, its massive turrets in disarray and the barrels of its guns frozen in their final directions, never to fire again. Rust had overrun its metal surfaces, though she could make out a faded insignia of red and white—a rising sun—on its side, as well as a few other telltale markings of a ship from the days of Imperial Japan. She passed it by without a word, feeling its shadow upon her, for it was looming no more than ten meters from the forest itself, run up on the shallows. Further still were other ships, two of them being bulk cargo carriers, and another a small research vessel—their names, as could be read in nearly illegible faded letters, were Kairali, Berge Vanga, and Kaiyo Maru respectively. Holly circled round the cove, focusing on keeping aware rather than gazing at the mysterious sight of ruined human ships, which tended to inspire great interest in most fairies due to their sheer size and utilitarian design. Holly reached the far end of the inlet in a few minutes, where she found a small river flowing from further inland. She followed it into the woods and found, hidden in the myriad of greens of jungle foliage, yet another human vessel, this one a submarine likely from the second world war, washed up the stream by an unnaturally large wave perhaps. It was overgrown with vines and other plant life, but when Holly stopped by its bow—where its large torpedo tubes stood open like ominous rusted maws—she could make out SS-369. It too was crumbling to time and nature, lost to its makers and destined to remain half-submerged in the muddy river, which would one day be its tomb. Just like most of the relics of the human wars, it was fated to fade away, returning to the earth for a peaceful sleep, silent for eternity despite all of the mayhem it had been part of in its life. Like the others Holly left it behind without much pause, though when she stopped to take a drink from the river she could not help but wonder what had happened to those aboard them. Given the island had been hidden from the world, they were surely not rescued. This gave her an ominous, dreadful feeling, one that she brushed aside as she carried on. She could not think about such morbid things, not at a time like this.

Having passed around the cove, Holly set her eyes on the hill ahead, leaving behind the inlet and its rusted vestiges of human influence. Her objective this entire time had been to move towards the higher ground, and now she was following the river to where it sprung from the looming hills. This goal was in hopes that she could still get a signal with her communicator, or at the very least broadcast a distress call. It was a slim chance, but sometimes one had to act on that very chance, lest no action come at all and, by extension, no positive change. With that sliver of hope urging her onward, the elf followed alongside the gentle stream, which was so beautiful in the rays of golden light that even she, in her desperate situation, betrayed a faint smile. There was always beauty in the world, even in the darkest of times—one just had to believe it was there, just as one believes that there are stars behind a clouded sky.

Facing a ridge, Holly began her climb towards the summit of the first mountain. She moved carefully through the brush, trying to limit her noise, and out of instinct she crawled the last few meters up the first ridge, keeping herself hidden in the grass with her rifle nearly shouldered. When she peered over the edge of the hill she immediately felt her pulse increase, as standing several dozen meters away, spread out in a textbook infantry formation, was a group of ten heavily armed fairies. They had not heard her approach, but they were clearly guarding the hillside in the event that she, their prey, tried to climb it. Holly remained still in the grass, her rifle aimed at the nearest enemy and her eyes analyzing their gear. They had an impressive array of weapons, and their armor was clearly modified LEP issue. It only took a moment of thought for Holly to deduce that there were other groups as well, probably occupying strategic positions in all directions. Like a real hunt they were enclosing her ever so slowly, giving her less and less room to run. D'arvit, how am I going to get out of this cage? Holly thought as she slowly backed down the slope. No sooner had she thought this when she saw movement to her far left—another group, same in number and armament, though advancing this time. She swore under her breath, realizing that she could not move at all now; if she wanted to remain unseen, she had no other choice than to stay in the concealing foliage around her. Knowing this, she carefully rolled on her back and held her rifle readily. Only a fool would think that they could hide forever in such a spot, but an even greater fool would try to run away. She had no option.

For one minute Holly waited. The sound of the enemy patrol got louder and louder, their footsteps and hushed chatter closing in on her with unchangeable certainty, and when they were nearly upon her the elf tensed up, waiting for the sight of one of her foes to appear through the foliage. Most of them were below her, moving across the hill, but one of them just so happened to move on a direct line with her hiding place. Seeing through the small gaps in the grass and shrubs, Holly watched as he closed in—being covered in mud and leafs, she was harder to see. It was intense, seeing him approach, and Holly felt every fiber of her being scream for her to do something, but she could not. She waited with her weapon powered up and her finger just over the trigger. She was absolutely certain that he would walk right into her, and she was about to open fire when the operative stopped in his tracks, evidently hearing someone speaking in his helmet's headphones. He quickly motioned for the others to stop, and so they did, all right by Holly, who could not believe her luck.

"Team seven has intercepted the tracking signals," the group's leader, the elf closest to Holly, said to the others. "Decoys, torn out of the equipment. Tracks indicate that the target was heading southeast, past the cove. Eyes sharp comrades."

Holly was dead still as she listened to the chatter, and it was torturous having to remain that way as the other group of fairies on the ridge joined the one before her, luckily walking around the brush she was hiding in and not bothering to search it. They seemed convinced that she had yet to reach their position, and as they passed her Holly felt a ray of hope. If she remained like this, they may continue onward down the slope, therefore giving her an opening to escape through. Determined to accomplish this, the elf ever so carefully pressed herself against the ground in an attempt to be even less noticeable to the group of twenty fairies who were no more than a few meters away. As if the gods hated her guts, there just so happened to be a twig beneath her, and when she pressed downwards it snapped with a very audible sound. It was at that moment, despite all of the sudden indignation and anger that she felt, that Holly simply reacted before her enemy could.

As the group of fairies was spinning around to see where the sound had come from, Holly aimed her pulse rifle in their general direction and, remaining on her back amidst the undergrowth, opened fire with a godly vengeance. Shots spewed out of the barrel of her rifle, lighting up the shaded forest with their blue glow, and with an unrelenting storm of high-level charges they tore into the gathering of armed fairies, who had had only enough time to shoulder their rifles. For them it was a terrible experience, as they were suddenly met by a wall of neutrino shots from behind a concealing barrier of plant life, and despite their training they were utterly surprised. With Holly's pulse rifle firing at an insane rate of one-hundred charges a second, more than half of the Laconus operatives were knocked out before they could dive for cover. The rest, dispersing and throwing themselves behind whatever cover they could find, laid down a barrage of suppressive fire. Holly was already on the move, bursting through the brush and avoiding their counterattack by a hair's breadth, all the while taking precise shots at anything that moved.

With breakneck speed and brutal intensity the elf sprinted across the slope and broke through the enemy line, leaving fifteen of them unconscious and the other five seething with rage. Laser charges chased after her, tearing apart the jungle around her and sending clouds of splintered wood and mud flying through the humid air, but none of them struck her. Holly felt lucky as hell, but it was far from over, as now the enemy knew her exact location. This was confirmed by the sight of a number of fairies breaking through the thick foliage below her, at the bottom of the small hill. Holly turned as she ran, intent on pinning them down as she crossed their line of fire, but at that moment her left foot slipped on a particularly muddy surface, bringing about an embarrassing moment that passed in slow motion, to which all she could say was an incomplete "Oh shi—!"

Holly was suddenly upside down, sliding down the muddy slope towards the approaching team of hostiles, who were halfway up by this time. Gods dammit! she thought as she rolled head over heels; she could not stop from sliding down into her enemy's hands. Out of sheer determination she righted herself, shouldered her rifle, and opened fire as she slid towards her enemy. It took her only a second to reach her bewildered foes, and she slid right past them, dropping several as she did so. Her descent was out of control by this point, and with a number of curses she tumbled and rolled amidst a hail of laser fire, feeling several times the close calls that melted her gear and scorched her body.

Like a wedge of cheese thrown down a hill, the elf careened through the thick brush and bounced off of several hard surfaces, and it was while flying midair that she broke through the thick underbrush and flew into an open space. Time was very slowed by the view she received, because she saw that she had rolled right into the mouth of a rocky crevice. It loomed below her, filled with shadow, and all she could do was wonder at how unfair it was before she collided with its solid edge. She felt something break as she collided with the stone, but she still tried to grab hold and keep herself from falling—she believed that she could do so without trouble. Reality was a lot less forgiving, because she actually bounced off of the stone edge and fell head-first into the narrow crevice, and henceforth plummeted like a rock. For the next eight seconds she fell, bouncing off of the sides of the crevice and falling deeper and deeper into its depths. Her vision was blurred by pain and disorientation, and all she saw below her was darkness flecked with the white of rushing water. The next thing she knew she was submerged in a near lightless environment, carried along by a swift current and hammered time and time again into invisible rocks beneath the surface. All she could do was keep herself afloat, fighting for her very life against an impartial force of nature when, not moments ago, she had been fighting against an entirely different foe. It seemed to her, as she was pulled through the rapids that filled the bottom of the crevice, that the whole island was out to kill her.

Holly had no idea how long she was battling against the rapids, but when it finally calmed down and ejected into a shallow river she was gasping for breath. One final surge of the current had pushed her to the bottom, and after a few moments of struggle she had emerged, crawling up on the shoreline with exhausted haste. Her helmet, having been cracked long ago, had almost entirely filled with water, and she tore it off the moment she reached the river's edge, tossing it aside and gasping in precious oxygen to relieve her screaming lungs. All this time she was looking down, ignorant of the world she had emerged into, and after coughing a few times she looked up a little, just in time to hear a rough voice speak coldly from no more than two meters away.

"You look a little worse for wear."

Holly felt an icy fear pierce through her, and in that terror she looked up fully and saw a very intimidating fairy standing before her. He had a scarred face, and in his hands was a neutrino, aimed directly at her head. Behind him were nine other operatives, all of the same cold countenance, and they looked far more professional than the others she had dealt with. Many would be inclined to surrender at that very moment, but Holly did not. Instead, in a rash but courageous move, she reached for her neutrino pistol and drew it swiftly. She brought it to bear in a flash, but another movement, one faster than her, swatted the weapon out of her hand, sending it flying until it splashed on the other side of the river. Holly did not lose a second to this, as the moment her attacker disarmed her she reached for her combat knife while at the same time lunging towards him. Her knife glinted as it was drawn, and its edge made a slight sound as it swung through the air towards her foe's scarred face. Holly was determined to fight till her last breath, overcome by the madness of combat, but it all came to a sudden end when a laser shot forth from behind and, passing an inch over her right shoulder, struck the blade of her knife. The weapon melted instantly, and Holly stumbled over, landing on the muddy ground at her enemy's feat.

"Are you finished, Captain?" the stoic elf asked, looming over her with his weapon aimed. The way he spoke indicated the he didn't care whether she lived or died, and there was a hint of satisfaction in his hard eyes, which were very much the eyes of a professional soldier—and an even more professional killer. This was an elf who enjoyed the practice of war.

Holly stared back at him, and felt all of her confidence drain like water through a cloth. Out of the woods to all sides of her emerged more foes, adding to this feeling of helplessness, and despite her inclination to remain defiant in the face of incredible odds, Holly felt the beginnings of panic—and utter oblivion—roil in her heart. Was this it? Was this to be her final moment? It scared the hell out of her, the prospect of dying, and it was only when she had no means of fighting back that she truly felt its claws on her resolve. Her courage, as strong as it was, could do nothing for her now. All she could do was stare her foe in the eye, matching his gaze, and speak with an intentional amount of complete loathing.

"Not while I'm still breathing."

The intimidating elf, Vepar Cailleach, smiled just a little when she said this. "Suit yourself."

Holly saw and heard the firing of his neutrino, and felt the warm collision of its charge with her chest. All of her strength and fortitude melted away in an instant, as did her awareness of the world; her body went numb, and her muscles slack. The last thing she witnessed was the ground rushing to meet her, and the subsequent sight of numerous booted feet closing in around her. A muffled voice spoke, and a few laughed, but she could not make out the wording of its evidently humorous remark. Darkness followed, enveloping her completely with its smothering wings. At the final moment before it took her, she felt an incomprehensible terror, the fear of death gaining solid footing in her mind, making her truly helpless to its touch. Her very soul trembled like a leaf in a gale, and that fear followed her into the nightmares that rose from the blackened depths of what she perceived as her untimely death.