I still dream of that fateful night atop Olmen-Ra. Dozens of our kindred passed into memory that evening, and many is the dream I have had since, remembering the fallen and the loss of our loved ones.
We had gathered at the base of the mountain in the early dusk, prepared to rescue our beloved Queen from the forces of Dwindor. She had been taken from us many weeks before, and it had taken time for us to locate her and devise a plan of action. It had fallen to me, as war chief, to lead the rescue.
Gregor, the invisible, had lit the beacon from the hilltop; our signal to begin the surge to the top of the hill. We were ten score strong but the Dwindorians were stronger still. The battle had been bloody, the loss of life innumerable.
We fell back into the night, still Queen-less. I do not know what has become of her. I grieve for those lost, but especially for my betrothed. I shall never forget that night – or her.