Heavy, stuttering footsteps marched through the forest. A trail of dark red blood dribbled into the leaves ahead of him, and he was sure he left a line of brighter red behind him. Deep gashes etched into his skin; three claw marks running parallel. The monster ahead of him did not fare any better with a pure iron dagger embedded into its side, he was sure of it.

His grip on his sword tightened, raising it off the ground where it dragged as he approached a clearing. He winced as the dying sun glared into his eyes.

Across the field was his enemy. Pale hair fell across their face, nearly hiding their sharp green eyes. Elongated ears stuck out through the loosened bun. Blood ran down translucent wings, torn and gnarled. The faerie stood their ground, however, even as their right arm was nearly unusable. They still held their sword high, same as himself.

He knew they weren't all that different. Not as the chieftains claimed. In the end, they both fought for the same thing: Freedom of their people. It was the mantra every one of them held close to their hearts; the only thing keeping them sane.

Hah, sane, he thought humorlessly. As if anything about this could be sane at all.

No one really knew who was at fault anymore. The Fae claimed the humans were destroying their homelands while the humans declared the Fae had been encroaching on them for years, stealing their children and replacing them with changelings. Who knew what was true? Both had happened in the past before, but it was now that everything had reached its end. The thin thread of diplomacy had finally snapped, severing their bonds for good.

Before the war had begun, he had never truly encountered a faerie. His views were warped because of his upbringing. He never thought once about the possibility that they were the same when he joined the war. Yet here they stood, brothers on the other side of each other. He did not know the faerie's name, nor anything about the other in the slightest, but he knew deep down inside, there was not much difference between them. Not even as they stood face to face on the ends of their final battlefield.

They both knew how this would end. Either one or none of them were making it out alive. This was war, after all, but neither of them was scared. Only acceptance and serenity, welcoming their fate with open arms. This is what they had chosen.

The sun was blood-red as two parallels collided, blade against blade in the twilight.

Neither of them left their battlefield alive.