The Shadow of Autumn vs The Authority of Autumn

  The wind stopped.

  Not from absence.

  But from respect.

  Before her stood a man who was not ordinary.

  1.90 meters tall.

  Red hair like burning leaves.

  Glowing rubro eyes — ancient like roots that have seen ages rise and fall.

  The air vibrated.

  Sarya thought:

  He is not a common elf.

  Even the wind seemed to hesitate around him.

  She raised her spear.

  — You are one of them.

  Aurelius Rowan smiled, cynical.

  — Yes.

  — And what will you do?

  ---

  Sarya did not answer.

  She moved first.

  Vision-blocking spin of the spear.

  Dust rising.

  Leaves sliced through the air.

  She attacked blind angles, shifting rhythm constantly.

  But Aurelius stepped half a pace back.

  Calm.

  — Let us see your potential before I use my spear.

  The leaves around them trembled.

  Four figures emerged from within them.

  Rubros.

  They wore masks carved to represent ancient Rubros.

  Four red-haired warriors.

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  Four heavy presences.

  Sarya did not hesitate.

  She moved.

  Dodge.

  Thrust.

  Low spin.

  Cut to the leg.

  She fought four at the same time.

  Aurelius observed.

  She does not have the Anchor of Autumn… and still fights like this?

  Interesting.

  One of the Rubros was wounded.

  Blood.

  Aurelius raised his hand.

  — Enough.

  The four stepped back.

  The leaves closed.

  And then—

  The Patriarch appeared in front of her.

  No warning.

  Clash of spears.

  BOOM.

  The impact destabilized Sarya.

  He twisted the weapon.

  Kick to her legs.

  She fell.

  He continued attacking.

  Without speaking.

  Without emotion.

  Pure technique.

  ---

  From a distance, Valen watched beside two veteran Rubros.

  His heart pounded.

  Thud. Thud.

  She is strong…

  She wounded a Rubro. Fought four initiates.

  But she is struggling against Father…

  Who wouldn’t?

  He crossed his arms.

  I will become a leader like that.

  And I am looking at my future wife.

  Worthy of being Queen of Autumn.

  ---

  Aurelius released Autumn mana.

  Rubro.

  Intense.

  Heavy.

  He advanced.

  Rubro Thrust.

  BOOOOM.

  Sarya crossed her daggers to block.

  They shattered.

  The impact sent her sliding across the ground, carving a trail.

  Before she recovered—

  His spear was already at her throat.

  Check.

  — You have realized you cannot win, haven’t you?

  Silence.

  — Kneel.

  Her eyes did not waver.

  — I would rather die… than kneel again.

  Aurelius increased the pressure.

  Condensed Autumn mana descended upon her like a mountain.

  — I said… kneel.

  Her knee trembled.

  But did not bend.

  — Nooooo!

  Her voice came out hoarse.

  He increased it further.

  A hundred times.

  Two hundred.

  The ground cracked beneath her feet.

  But her knee did not touch the ground.

  He grabbed her chin.

  — Last chance.

  — Kneel.

  She raised her middle finger.

  And bit his hand.

  — Never.

  He turned.

  A sharp kick.

  She rolled across the ground, stopping beside her spear.

  He deactivated the elven mana of Autumn.

  Turned his back.

  As if ending it.

  But Sarya grabbed her spear and attacked.

  Before she could reach him—

  Six presences dropped onto her.

  Yan.

  Zodi.

  Blemik.

  Adira.

  Safira.

  Rubi.

  The six elite Rubros.

  The most feared of Autumn.

  The hunters whose mark alone prevented entire elven villages from being invaded.

  They immobilized her.

  Yan sat on her shoulders, half laughing.

  — Hey, hey… calm down. You lost already. If you continued, you would die.

  Valen stepped forward.

  — Yan, you’ll hurt her!

  Aurelius approached her.

  She still bared her teeth, trying to break free.

  He spoke simply:

  — You are strong.

  He knelt.

  Moved closer to her face.

  Extended his hand.

  — I will place a mark on you to make you obey me.

  The word mark pierced her mind.

  Images of servitude.

  Chains.

  Seals.

  The Gray Lady.

  Her body stiffened.

  But what came—

  Was not pain.

  It was a light flick to her forehead.

  A gentle touch.

  — Autumn’s Caress.

  The Patriarch declared:

  — Gift of Autumn. May the strength of the Rubros of the past be with you.

  The world stopped.

  A memory surfaced.

  —

  — Mama… how will we know if we meet a Rubro of Autumn?

  — It’s simple, my little love. We say: Gift of Autumn.

  — And what will they answer?

  — May the strength of the Rubros of the past be with you.

  —

  Her eyes shone.

  Secret code.

  She whispered, almost breathless:

  — Aurelius Rowan…

  The Rubros around her removed their masks.

  Red hair.

  Freckles.

  Firm eyes.

  Safira smiled.

  — It is a pleasure to meet you, Sarya Veyrum.

  Yan inclined his head.

  — Though you do not seem very pleased.

  Aurelius observed her.

  — I feel an intense elven core… filled with mixed emotions.

  He closed his eyes briefly.

  — I had my suspicions. Now I am certain.

  — You are the girl from the village of Silent Leafgrove.

  (The village where her mother resisted until the end.)

  — Many survived because of your mother. She bought them time to hide.

  Sarya stood completely unarmed.

  But she had forgotten how to cry.

  Inside, however—

  The little girl who once dreamed of becoming a Rubra of Autumn wept.

  Without tears.

  Her mana core trembled.

  The Patriarch felt it.

  — You carry a war in your chest.

  Valen stepped closer.

  Eyes fixed on her.

  Captivated.

  She noticed.

  Uncomfortable.

  He looked too much like the Patriarch.

  Strong.

  Certain.

  Confident.

  The wind returned.

  But now—

  Not as threat.

  As recognition.

  Autumn had found its huntress.

  End of Chapter 6.