The clanging of metal pierced the humid air as arrows rained down from the ridge. Liara crouched among the tall golden reeds of the marshland, her breath shallow, her heart pounding like a war drum. The enemy’s war cries echoed against the rocky cliffs of Tayuwan, announcing the arrival of yet another wave of Qin invaders. With bloodied hands, she tightened her grip on the iron blade and cast a brief glance at her reflection in the stagnant pool nearby. Her face was streaked with mud and streaks of dried blood, her braided hair disheveled from hours of battle.
Her outfit, though hastily assembled, was still striking in its simplicity. She wore a tightly bound leather chest piece, the color of bleached bone, tied over a short white tunic that clung to her figure. The tunic was slit high along the sides to allow for free movement, effectively mimicking the lightness of her old training robes while remaining functional for combat. On her feet, Liara had discarded the cumbersome sandals of her homeland and instead strapped on soft black boots reinforced with thin plates of iron—a subtle homage to her past life among the aristocrats of the south.
A sudden snap of a twig sent her spinning around, blade raised. “Liara!” whispered a familiar voice. Emerging from the reeds was Kaidan, his dark eyes glinting with urgency. His leather armor was dented and smeared with red, but he carried himself as if he hadn’t taken a single wound. Liara noticed the blood staining the tip of his spear, dripping steadily into the wet earth. It wasn’t his blood. That much she knew.
“They’re regrouping near the eastern ridge,” he said quickly. “We need to move before they surround us.”
Liara nodded sharply, taking off at a crouch behind her comrade. The two of them weaved through the marsh, their movements silent as ghosts despite the chaos unfolding around them. Smoke billowed from a distant field where the village fires still smoldered, and the scent of burning thatch mixed with the pungent aroma of damp earth. She suppressed the ache in her legs, reminded once again of how far her world had descended into chaos since the siege began.
They reached a small hollow where the reeds opened up into a grove of ancient trees. Kaidan hesitated, scanning their surroundings with the hunter’s precision born from years of war, before motioning Liara to settle under the gnarled roots of a banyan tree. There, out of sight, she allowed herself a brief reprieve.
She had once worn silk gowns of a similar white, their trim adorned with intricate golden embroidery. She had once fastened emerald-green earrings to her ears, pearls to her slender wrists. The women of the capital had envied her beauty—the poised, graceful Liara, daughter of the High Magistrate, betrothed to the Prince of Suong.
But what good was silk against sharp steel? What good were riches when the people starved, their cries drowned under the pomp of festivals? When the Qin breached the gates of the city, Liara’s world crumbled within hours. Her home had been sacked, her maidens slaughtered, her father dragged into the city square to stand trial before the invading general. For treason, they had called it.
When she fled into the marshes, she had abandoned the jewels, the perfumes, the elegant white robes that marked her identity. Only the black boots, a gift from her late mother for her riding lessons, survived the flames—to remind her of where she came from, and perhaps, who she might someday become.
She was pulled from her reverie by Kaidan’s low voice. “You hesitated back there.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke; instead, he was carefully wrapping a strip of fabric around a fresh cut on his forearm. Despite his casual tone, there was a sharpness to his words, one that made Liara clench her fists.
“I didn’t hesitate,” she snapped, keeping her voice hushed. “I aimed to parry. The angle wasn’t—”
“You weren’t trying to parry,” Kaidan interrupted. He looked sharply at her now, his gaze cutting through her defenses like a blade. “That boy was about to kill me, and you hesitated. You’re still thinking like a noble.”
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the small grove felt charged with the tension between them. Finally, she looked away, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade. “I was trying to protect you. It wasn’t hesitation. It was—”
“Compassion?” Kaidan asked bluntly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “We can’t afford compassion, Liara. Not out here. Not anymore.”
His words stung, but she said nothing. Deep down, she knew he wasn’t wrong. Yet the part of her that still clung to the ideals of her childhood—the part that refused to become like the invaders who tormented her people—fought against the idea.
Before Kaidan could press the issue further, a distant scream echoed across the marsh. Both of them froze. It wasn’t a cry of pain—it was a cry of warning. The Qin were here.
Kaidan rose smoothly to his feet, his spear already in hand. “We need to go. Now.”
But Liara stood still, her eyes scanning the horizon. Something felt… off. The air itself seemed heavier, charged. And then, through the haze, she saw it—a figure stepping into view atop the ridge. Clad in ceremonial armor gilded in black and gold, the warlord Xian Shu gazed down at the marshland like a vengeful god.
The sight of him lit something inside her—a burning rage that she hadn’t felt since the fall of the capital. Without thinking, Liara stepped forward, her blade glinting in the dim light.
“Liara, wait!” Kaidan hissed, but her pulse was deafening now, drowning out his voice.
She didn’t hesitate this time. She wouldn’t hesitate ever again.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Effortlessly Stylish: Embrace Confidence in a Chic White Bikini and Bold Black Heels for Summer Elegance
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