The harpies had always been deadly, but it was the Cyclops that were creatures of nightmare. Throughout our history, they have often been compared with some of the worst of the Sidhe. They would have fit in any Sithern where the Unseelie ruled.

The Cyclops were Giants, each standing at least twenty feet tall, monsters that had embraced the domains of chaos, death, and decay. Their very existence was the antithesis of all the deep connection to nature the Sidhe cultivated.

We were servants of nature, our magic, [Fairy], and the [Wild Magic] stronger because of that nature. We followed the tenants of the Tuatha de Danaan, a Pantheon of Gods who had mingled their Divine nature to make dreams a reality. They made, by right of their Divine nature, [Fairy] to follow rules that would encourage growth, order, and civilization. The Greek monsters attacking my people would destroy everything we stood for if given a chance.

Most of the rank and file of the Harpy and Cyclops were cursed, their faces disfigured so that they were missing an eye or an arm, so they fought with a handicap. That was the difference between these common troops and the Cyclops that lived free. And unlike those free Cyclops, these monsters were enslaved, bands of iron etched with runes locked around each of their necks.

They were intelligent, but that intelligence was shackled behind rules and commands so onerous that I could see the magic at work. They made war methodically, employing traps, ambushes, and armaments as ordered. Cyclops were bestial in nature, servants to a hunger that could never be satisfied. They attacked anything and everything they encountered, and what they killed, they ate.

The armored troops of man, the elite warriors protected by armor made of leather and iron, were different. A few shone with an aura of fanatic devotion. A devotion that was warranted as a few of them, even battle-scarred veterans, wielded weapons and shields that blazed with divine blessings.

Those few who had been gifted with those blessings contained a beauty that rivaled some of the lesser Sidhe. Not the ethereal beauty of our people but a darker version. They embraced that dark beauty, confident that their actions were just and sanctioned by their Gods. And like the Sidhe, and could wield their attractiveness as a weapon to inspire confidence and bravery in their brethren.

The chaos and death they represented were considered by some to be worthy of poetry. They were fierce fighters and embraced their role as instruments of death wholeheartedly. They were the brave men sent off by loving wives to fight for their nations, to make a difference. But the purview of war consisted of more than just fighting and killing. Death came to both sides.

They tempered their march with aspects of chaos and death. And for those who fell, for those men that would never return home, those losses were poignant and stoked their emotions. Those deaths that broke the hearts of those left to mourn became the kindling to fuel an ever-increasing fire of rage and anger. Those deaths were the fuel that allowed men of strength and honor to continue, to fight even as they gasped their dying breath.

And they were soothed in the belief that those deaths, those that passed beyond to embrace their eternal slumber, would be rewarded in the afterlife.

For a few, their beauty was a beacon of light for those dying in pain or despair. They walked the earth with the transitive power of acceptance, stewards of death, and the continuation of the cycle of life.

As for the monsters, if not for their determination to attack and kill the Sidhe, to wipe our race out until none remained, and the disregard they had for nature, they would have been considered Unseelie. They would have been accepted into the ranks of those considered monstrous. Their monstrous beauty was comparable to the horrors of the Slaugh, the Redcaps, and the Hobs.

Gwyn ap Nudd had delivered us to the scene of battle, one that the Sidhe were losing. Perhaps that should have been expected; he was the Huntsman. From our vantage, it appeared that the Phalanx of troops had ambushed the group of Sidhe. A mix of Seelie and Unseelie, with only a few of them geared for war. Those that were outfitted for battle were hard-pressed to protect the rest, and each was sporting wounds by now.

Things were becoming desperate. There already appeared to be dozens of Sidhe that had been slain or so badly wounded they couldn't heal quickly enough to return to battle. And for the Sidhe to be so badly damaged that they could not heal quickly spoke volumes of the ravages of the type of attacks they had to endure.

This Army of Man used iron weapons to poison the Sidhe, destroy their healing ability, and leave them weakened and vulnerable.

We would have to help. There was no recourse, even if I wanted to ignore the battle before me. One of the quests I had been given was to save the Sidhe, to unite them. And this was as good a place to start as any.

I regretted that I wouldn't have time to experiment with my spells and skills. To understand what it meant not using System Mechanics. I had been conditioned to cast spells or use skills by triggering a System ability. That wouldn't work here. If I had more time, I might have experimented and tested to see how my abilities functioned without the stricture of the System, but the time I spent worrying about something I couldn't change, might mean the death of Sidhe.

This would be where I started. This would be the first step in saving my people.

We had been transported to a location of advantage, behind the enemies, out of their line of sight. With the Cyclops missing an eye, I was determined to take advantage of that disadvantage. The forces before me would have to be split, with each member of my party focusing on a different segment. At least as we approached the regiment that was in the process of attacking, I was pleased to find my [Identify] skill worked even if I couldn't use the System to trigger it.

So, I ignored the block that had formed, denying me access to the System. I ignored my surprise at finding Caraid had been incarnated, his soul separated from me and standing next to me, whole and complete. He was his own person for the first time ever in my presence. There were times when I noticed him missing, an echoing hollowness within my soul. But I knew he was called by the Hunt in those instances. This was the first time we stood shoulder to shoulder.

I ignored that sense of loss, ignored the feeling that something was missing as I prepared for my attack. These were issues that could be addressed in the aftermath of the battle when there was time to regroup and a time to heal.

"Ag," I ordered, a glance giving me an understanding of the battle and where the most help was needed. "Attack the Cyclops. Please don't focus on one; instead, attack and run, try to hamstring one, then move on to the next. Use your [Shadow] to keep out of sight as much as possible.

"Caraid, see about healing the wounded, starting with those trying to guard the rest. Get them healthy enough to keep fighting.

"Tia, I'm not sure what fighting skills you use, but concentrate on the Phalanx of soldiers. Be careful, and don't let those iron weapons hit you. Use confusion and distraction to time your attacks. Try to concentrate on the officers. Any disorder you can create will make a huge difference. A compromised command structure is just as effective in war as death.

"You go with Caraid, Meala," I ordered. Meala might not have the intelligence of Tia or Ag, but she was a ten-foot-tall honey-badger bear hybrid. Each of her six legs ended in claws that were razor sharp and able to rend flesh and bone. "Help protect the wounded while he works."

Ag and I had hunted together before and had learned to trust each other over those hunts. His abilities as Cu Sith allowed him to use the shadows effectively. Tia was Cait Sith but an unknown. We would have to learn how to work together, but that was something for the future. For now, I had to trust that she could handle herself and respond to the situation appropriately. And that the connection we shared across the companion bond would help us mesh well.

I tested the ambient magic in the surroundings, ensuring I had access to a pool of power I could draw on. The magic had a familiarity to it that I was used to. [Fairy] and [Wild Magic]. The power was familiar because it was the same power that Gwyn ap Nudd had used to part the veil of Summerlands and bring us across the path betwixt and between. Once satisfied that this world was as rich enough with [Fairy] and the [Wild Magic], I activated my [King's Regalia] to gain the boosted stats to launch my first attack.

The unassuming torc around my neck transformed, flowing like liquid metal to encase me in a full suit of armor. Made of a mixture of Mythril, Adamantium, and Silinium, it was enchanted along with the other three pieces of the set and had been provided to me as a quest reward for establishing my rule on Talahm and forming the Tuatha de Danann faction.

The Harpies and Cyclops were semi-divine creatures. Demi-gods that had been given shape and form. Their skin was tinged purple. It allowed them to hide in the deep shadows of crags and caves they made their homes out. That they were attacking under the heat of the blazing sun would make things easier. Even the briefest examination of the grass and wildflowers let me know the army was attacking out of season. Winter was close, and I was a child of Summer and Winter.

How they were able to not only withstand the heat of the day but fight and use the environment to attack in the case of the Harpies was something that should have been impossible. The sun was as much anathema to them as iron was to the Sidhe.

It was something to worry about after the battle had ended.

But for now…

I was a son of Cyronax, and like that God, I controlled the domain of ice, but I was also a son of Beleros, a God of the Sun. I had been able to learn how to balance fire and ice after I'd awoken both bloodlines. Because when a balance between the elements cannot be managed. When I failed to maintain my control, the elements clashed.

And fire was the natural enemy of ice.

I pulsed [Beleros Aura], increasing the damage output by increments as the Aura expanded after Caraid, Meala, and Ag darted out of the area of my Aura. Tia ignored what I was doing to shift form and slink across the field. I needed to ground or kill the Harpies, so instead of a sphere, I created balls of fire and arrows of ice. Spell forms shot from my hands as I directed my magic in an unending tide of destruction. Fire and ice shoot from my hands in an arc before me, targeting each Harpy.

For a few seconds, there was no appreciable difference, but as I increased the power output and raised the temperature of my fire, those Harpies that were struck began to burn. They were no longer able to shrug off the damage I inflicted because of their Demi-god status. And as they began to take damage, as wings and feathers began to burn, and the weakest amongst them died, they turned to confront me.

The ambushers had been ambushed, and in those first few seconds, before they knew what was happening, I had managed to increase the heat of my fire from the reds and oranges of hearth and home to the blues and whites of destruction and the sun.

"Behind you," I heard Caraid yell, his words of warning reinforced by Ag and Tia's concern vibrating across our companion bonds.

A quick glance allowed me to identify the Cyclops Chief, that had been satisfied watching his people slaughter mine. I redirected part of my [Aura], splitting its function so that it both damaged and acted as a shield toward him.

A few, perhaps five, of the Cyclops that rushed to protect him were horribly burned in that first blast of controlled destruction. Their screams and the Chief's fury were enough to gain the attention of many of the army regiment. As they turned their attention toward me, I released glamour- an illusion so powerful that they would be unable to separate truth from lie.

I created a great seeming. An army at my back poised to strike. Trebuchets loaded with stone and fire, each staggered to release their fiery contents, and I set them to launch by legions of Seelie and Unseelie. Each was protected by gleaming silver armor, a few who rode Unseelie monsters. Monsters who ran to engage what appeared to be a badly out-numbered Phalanx of troops.

And I gave realism to glamour. Each time a trebuchet launched, I would release a fireball to pepper their ranks and scatter them. Illusion backed by realism made for the most effective glamour, and even for those few who might see through some elements of that illusion, it was safest to react as if everything was real.

I lost track of Caraid, Ag, and Tia as I entered within melee range, my focus on the Cyclops Chief. Sidhe did not get lost in battle madness, but we came close. The Morrigu were renowned for skirting the edges of madness, a frenzied dance of death that straddled the line between the sane and insane. I didn't have their abilities, but I didn't need them.

The one time we had clashed, I had won, but only because my magic was powerful, and the way I had learned to wield it was something never before seen among our people. Trusting that my companions could read my intent through our bond, I began reproducing the attack that had destroyed the Seelie monarchy, creating pillars of ice, each containing a deadly trap. The pillars were embedded and created with a seed of fire that, when released, blazed with expanding rings of heat and energy.

I scattered those pillars by the dozens, careful with placement. I needed to be precise even if others thought my actions imprecise. And as I did so, I needed to harry and harass the Cyclops while fighting with sword and shield.

My retreats or attacks allowed me to gain a better position, one that gave me a decided advantage. I was creating a maze of ice, borrowing from the Minotaur mythos as inspiration. Once the pillars were formed, I had my glamour begin attacking in earnest, engaging one part of the invading force after another, gaining their attention, and leading them within the maze I had created.

The more I gathered, the more pillars I created to hold those that followed me in my dance of feint and counter-feint. I had complete proprioception; I knew where I was relative to each of the pillars I created and the Fomorians I had following me into the depths of the killing field I had established.

And still, I battled the Cyclops Chief. Each time he attacked, the shield or sword I had summoned moved to intercept that attack. My speed eclipsed his, my strength on par. But the real advantage I had in this battle was my armor and weapon. My sword, while not a named weapon, was crafted and enchanted to channel fire and ice.

Each time I slashed or hacked him, the Chief took damage. There was nothing elegant about my attacks, nothing that demonstrated my decades of practice or my System skills. The beauty came in my speed, my precision, and my persistence.

I may have lost my ability to access the System, but I was still a [Ranked: King] with all the attributes that came with it. I was faster, stronger, and more agile than he was. And the maze of pillars I had created confused his people. They were creatures of shadows, the element they were most adept at controlling, and they were lost in a pattern of ice that they had no control over, and that made it difficult to traverse.

Slowly, Ag and Tia killed more and more of their targets. Even as I gathered the attention of those still living and tricked them into following me, I drew out the personal battle I was engaged in. Finally, satisfied that every Cyclops, surviving Harpy, and man still left standing was in range, I disengaged.

I ran.

My movements were so fast that I blurred, an echo of afterimages, a shuttering of images of where I had been and where I was, the only trail I left behind.

I took the time to make sure the people I was trying to save were far enough away, and that Caraid, Tia, and Ag were safely distanced before I released the spark of fire that I had hidden within each of those pillars.

A field of blazing fireballs, each with the power I had invested in them, released in one climactic outburst of fire and heat that vaporized everything in range, everyone that had become lost within that maze. I was forced to contend with the apocalyptic energies released, using my Aura to contain the fire and heat because if I hadn't, that small spark of fire would have expanded and created a flash fire explosion so powerful it would have started the forest and fields on fire and killed those I was trying to save.

Sidhe did not play at war.

In those few engagements that occurred when the Unseelie and Seelie were at war on Talahm, we had come close to ending all life on Talahm. It was why the Court of Light and Darkness had been formed, a combined Court where shared rule could restrain the immense power the Sidhe could wield.

It was one of the reasons why the other Pantheons of Gods feared the Tuatha de Danaan.

And they were right to be afraid. If I could destroy an entire legion of Cyclops, Harpies, and Man as a [Ranked: King], what forces could the Tuatha de Danaan unleash if they were no longer lost to [Sleep] and were stirred to action?