Esthria

At the Grand Capital of ElFairia

The earth trembled beneath the weight of steel titans. Two armored golems loomed, shadows swallowing what little light remained, their hulking forms relentless against the lone figure that still stood before them.

Estheria. Bloodied, breath ragged, her feet dug into the cracked stone. Her strength was gone. Yet her stance did not waver. Her fists were bare. Her spirit, raw and frayed --but unbroken.

Her blows landed without effect. The golems felt nothing. Moved not an inch. And yet she attacked again. And again.

Metal fists crashed into her ribs, lifting her clean off her feet before she slammed into the earth. A chorus of strained gasps echoed from the tied mages, watching helplessly -- powerless to lift a hand, powerless to turn away.

Veltrerxx strode forward, lips curling into a crooked smile. “Girl,” he sneered, stepping over the cracked stones, “give up already. You can’t do a damn thing. You’re weak.” He leaned closer, voice venom-laced. “And the weak -- the weak exist only to be crushed by the superior.”

His hand flicked, dismissive. “I’ve wasted enough time here.”

Turning his back on her, his voice echoed across the battered square. “My Golems,” he commanded, the words thick with malice, “kill everyone in this area. Burn it all to ash. Let’s start…” His eyes locked on the bound Grand Mage. “…with him.”

One of the golems turned, metal groaning, and began to march -- heavy steps cracking the ground with each thunderous stride.

Estheria stirred. Her body screamed in protest. Her limbs trembled. Blood dripped from her split lip to the dust below. But her eyes-- Her eyes did not lower.

She pushed herself to her feet again. And again. And again.

Each time, the other golem struck her back down, hammering her into the dirt. Her breath rattled; her bones felt hollow. But still-- Still, she rose.

Then -- A flicker. A pause.

Something was different..

Her eyes widened as she looked around. The crowd of mages -- their faces, their gazes. She saw it now. Their eyes were no longer sharp with scorn. No longer cold with disdain. These were the same people who had once shunned her, spat on her, dismissed her as unwanted.

But now-- Now their eyes were filled with something else. Hope.

They did not look at her as a failure. They did not look away from her weakness. They looked at her as though she alone stood between them and the end. And they believed -- Because she still stood.

Estheria’s lips parted, breath shallow as she spoke a truth meant only for herself. “I see it now…” Her fingers clawed against the stone, pulling her body upright one last time. “…This is what it means to carry others.”

Her knees nearly buckled. But her feet held. Her hands trembled at her sides -- empty, bleeding -- yet they rose again. Her lips parted -- her voice dry, scraped thin from the inside out.

“Giving up…” Her breath shuddered. “People say it like it’s easy.” Her head lowered, shoulders trembling from the weight. “My whole life… I made it this far… Because I never gave up on what I held close.” Her fingers curled into the dirt. “And even if it kills me… I won’t give up. She staggered forward. One step. Another.

Veltrerxx paused. His brow twitched as he turned, noticing her still moving.

His voice was low, disbelieving. “What are you doing?”

His eyes narrowed, slower this time. “What can you possibly think you’re achieving?”

She didn’t answer. Because it wasn’t about achieving anymore.

It was about showing — That power didn’t decide who deserved to stand. That the ones with nothing could still defy the ones who claimed everything.

Her feet dragged. Her shoulders slumped. But she walked. Straight at the golem approaching the Grand Mage. Her broken, empty hands clenched into fists.

She couldn’t win. She couldn’t break it. But she would not let it pass.

Because sometimes -- standing was enough.

Veltrerxx’s hand froze mid-sigil. His smile faltered -- the first crack in all his composure.

“…You’ll die for nothing.”

Her voice --cracked, dry, thin -- tore through the space between them.

“Maybe.” Her chin lifted slowly. “But even if I die here… Someone will remember I stood.”

A fist slammed into her stomach.

Her breath tore from her throat as she crumpled. Her knees hit the stone. Her vision blurred.

Around her -- The bound mages stared, unmoving. Their eyes locked on her -- eyes that had once spat hate -- Now holding the last fragile piece of hope left in ElFairia.

Across the square, the Grand Mage shut his eyes. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

Estheria’s vision whitened -- A thin, pale blur swallowing the plaza, the sky, the faces, the golems.

And still, even as her body dropped-- Her eyes did not close.

When did I become so stubborn? I wonder that now… with my face pressed against cold stone… with blood in my mouth… And the weight of death hanging over me.

I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t born to stand alone against monsters.

I was just a curious lower elf.

The kind of child who asked too many questions. Why does the wind move the leaves like that? What lies beyond the forests? How do merchants cross the deserts without losing their way? Why does the sky turn red before sunset?

I wanted to know everything. Not because I wanted power— But because the world felt so wide… and I felt so small. And if I could just understand it all, maybe I wouldn’t feel so small anymore.

I was born on the outskirts of ElFairia. A quiet place where the trees bent low and the air always smelled of moss after rain.

My parents were traveling merchants. They carried spices from the southern sands… silk from across the distant seas… Jewels that shimmered like they were cut from the stars themselves.

They walked roads I could only dream of. And every time they left, I’d run after their wagons, tugging at their sleeves.

Take me with you. Just once. Let me see the world, too.

They’d only smile. Father would ruffle my hair. Mother would kneel and tuck a stray curl behind my ear.

“One day, little one,” she’d say. “One day when you’re older and stronger. The world can wait.”

But the world didn’t wait. When I was nine, they left for another journey. And they never came back.

I waited. One day. Two. A week. A month.

I sat by the village gate long after the sun went down, long after the crickets stopped singing. Every creak of a wagon wheel made my heart leap. But it was never them.

The elder came to me herself one evening — her lips thin, her eyes heavy. Her voice broke as she spoke.

They had died. Caught between armies at war in a distant land. Their wagon burned. Their goods stolen. Their bodies never returned.

I don’t remember crying.

I just remember the silence after. An endless ringing, like the world itself had gone hollow.

The elder took me in after that. Treated me like her own granddaughter. Her hands were rough from years of tending to herbs and tending to others. But they were warm. Always warm.

Even without my parents… The village didn’t let me fall.

The butcher saved the softest cuts for me. The baker slipped extra bread into my hands when no one was looking. The other children pulled me into their games even when I forgot how to smile.

I grew up surrounded by kindness. And slowly— I realized something.

Every time I helped someone… Every time I carried a heavy basket or mended a broken fence or comforted a crying child— I saw those smiles again. The same kind of smile my parents gave me. The smile that made the world feel like it wasn’t so cruel after all.

Maybe that was why I was born. Not to chase distant lands. But to keep those smiles alive.

That was enough for me.

Until I turned ten.

That was the year the letters came. All children of age had to leave for the Grand Capital of ElFairia.

It was tradition. To study at the academy. To learn the ways of our people until we turned sixteen.

I still remember the day I left.

The elder hugged me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. Her voice was soft against my ear.

“No matter where you go, my little Estheria… keep smiling. Keep doing what you love. Don’t ever give up.”

I promised I wouldn’t.

We traveled days to reach the capital. When we arrived, I thought we had stepped into a different world entirely.

Towers that scraped the clouds. Stone roads that shimmered like glass under the sun. Bridges arched over rivers so clear you could see the fish darting below.

Street lanterns flickered gold at night, casting warm halos along marble streets.

I remember how we lower elves couldn’t hide our amazement. We stared, wide-eyed, mouths open — a cluster of children from the forests standing at the edge of civilization itself.

But then… We saw them.

The higher elves.

Taller. Elegant. Robes lined with silver thread. And when their gazes slid over us— It was like ice across bare skin.

They laughed quietly. Whispered behind slender hands.

Lower elves. Powerless elves.

We weren’t just strangers. We were less.

At the academy, they separated us quickly. Different dormitories. Different classes. Different libraries.

The higher elves learned magic — the lifeblood of ElFairia. We didn’t.

Because we couldn’t.

Here, status was carved into your bones. If you had an affinity for magic, you were higher. If you didn’t… you were lower. Defective. Forgotten.

But curiosity doesn’t vanish just because you’re told to sit in a smaller room.

I wanted to know what they knew. I wanted to learn. Not because I wanted to be like them-- But because I wanted to understand the world they live in, that makes them different from us lower elf….I wanted to know what they learn…I wanted to know I was just a curious kid after all.

For a lower elf to sit in the same classrooms as the higher elves, it wasn’t enough to simply wish for it. You had to earn it. You had to prove yourself exceptional beyond all doubt.

Only those among us who showed vast knowledge, impeccable discipline, and the mark of a scholar-- Could even be considered worthy to cross that invisible line.

We had to surpass every expectation placed on us, Just to be allowed to sit quietly at the back of their gilded classrooms.

It wasn’t fair. It was never meant to be fair. It was a test designed to break most of us before we even began.

But I didn’t break. So I worked. I worked harder than I ever thought possible.

I studied long after the oil lamps burned out.

I read until my eyes blurred and the letters bled together.

Day after day. Year after year.

I sharpened every question. I chased every answer. I poured every breath I had into rising high enough… So they would have no choice but to open that door for me.

And finally-- I was allowed into the higher classes.

But that wasn’t a victory.

That was just stepping into a deeper hell.

The teachers ignored me. When I raised my hand, they looked past me as though I didn’t exist.

The other students did worse.

After class, they dragged me behind the lecture halls. They used me as a practice dummy. Spell after spell--flames, ice, binding threads of lightning-- All crashing into my body. Again and again.

It should’ve broken me.

But it didn’t.

Because even as my body burned, even as my limbs trembled-- I kept watching. Kept listening. Kept memorizing.

So that’s what flame feels like. That’s how ice cuts. That’s how binding magic warps the nerves.

I learned more through their cruelty than any book could teach.

Because… Even then… I still believed that if I understood enough-- I could one day help others. Even people like me. Even people they spat on.

So I hardened myself.

I started working out from an early age-- because I wanted to be strong, because I needed to endure more spells as I studied them.

I wanted the teachers to acknowledge me. I wanted the higher elves to see me as worthy even as a lower elf.

So I trained. In the middle of the night. Any spare moment, I trained my body. I worked out relentlessly.

Until I passed out. Until I vomited. Nonstop. Every day.

I studied harder than anyone. I buried myself in books, scrolls, notes-- Anything to get stronger, anything to earn even a glance of recognition.