The northern wind whipped through the battlefield, biting and cold, as the 4,000-strong Hylian army advanced toward the city of Sovi. The sound of thousands of boots marching in unison reverberated across the land, a relentless tide of soldiers clad in crude iron armor. At their helm, Lord Ryakudatsu, the Rito warlord, hovered in the air, eyes cold and calculating. His army was vast, but it was his will, his ruthless determination, that commanded them forward.
Valord Sovi, however, stood firm. Despite the overwhelming odds—her 600 soldiers no match for the invaders' sheer numbers—she refused to bow. The city of Sovi had been her home for centuries, and she would fight to her last breath to protect it. Her white-blueish wings flexed as she stood tall, her blade at the ready. She was a queen of a people long revered for their power, and today, she would prove why.
Sovi raised her blade high, its edge catching the pale northern light as she stepped forward atop the battlements. Her voice rang out, clear and unwavering across the walls. "Archers! Ready your bows!"
The Nihovy archers, positioned in staggered lines behind the stonework, drew their strings taut. The quiet tension of the moment hung in the air like a held breath.
Sovi's wings flared wide as she narrowed her eyes toward the advancing army. "Loose!"
A thunderous snap of bowstrings filled the air as hundreds of arrows flew in unison, darkening the sky before they arced down toward the enemy ranks.
The first volley of arrows rang through the air from the defenders, but the Hylian army pressed on. Their shields rose, and though a few fell, they were hardly slowed. The defenders had little chance to hold back such a mighty force. But Sovi had no intention of waiting for defeat. She would fight to the end.
As Ryakudatsu's army closed in, the Rito warlord's gaze shifted toward her. His sharp eyes locked onto the Valor queen. "So, the queen herself has come to face me," he said, his voice a cruel whisper carried by the wind. "Let's see if your wings can carry you as well as your reputation."
Sovi's eyes narrowed, her voice a low growl in response. "You will not desecrate my city, Rito. Now die to my blade!"
With that, she leaped into the air, her wings spreading wide with a powerful beat. The air around her vibrated with the force of her movement, and she shot forward like a bolt of lightning, leaving afterimages in her wake. Ryakudatsu, seeing her approach, readied his sword, his wings adjusting to meet her in midair.
The two clashed with the speed of a storm. Sovi's sword met Ryakudatsu in a flurry of metal. But the warlord's defense was futile. Sovi was too fast, too powerful. Her blade flicked with lethal precision, and with a sudden, decisive moment, she sliced through the air with such force that Ryakudatsu had no time to react.
The warlord's eyes widened as Sovi's sword cleaved through his body with one clean stroke. His form was split in half at the waist, the two halves of his body falling from the sky like discarded sacks of flesh. Blood rained down as his upper and lower halves hit the ground with a sickening thud. Silence descended for a heartbeat as the Hylian army paused in shock, unsure how to react to their leader's brutal, sudden demise.
Sovi hovered in the air, her chest heaving with exertion, but her eyes locked onto the army below. "That," she called out, her voice echoing across the battlefield, "was just a taste of what's to come if you think you can take this city."
For a moment, the Hylians faltered, their resolve shaken. Their warlord had been an unmovable pillar in their ranks, and with his death, uncertainty crept through their soldiers. But it wasn't enough.
"Hold your ground!" one of the Hylian captains shouted, his voice cracking as he tried to rally the stunned soldiers. "She's only one! The Valord bleeds like the rest!"
Another soldier barked, "For Ryakudatsu! For vengeance!"
Their cries caught like wildfire. The initial hesitation twisted into fury, and a guttural roar erupted from the Hylian ranks as rage replaced fear.
With a roar, the army surged forward once more. They pressed against the walls, swarming like locusts, determined to avenge their fallen leader. The first wave of soldiers closed in on Sovi's position. She darted toward them, her sword cutting down every soldier in her path. She moved like a blur, her wings a blur of motion, striking down one soldier after another, her attacks leaving trails of blood and devastation behind her.
But as she fought, the numbers against her grew. The Hylians came from all sides, their weapons raised high, and despite her speed and skill, they were overwhelming her. Sovi fought like a whirlwind, her blade flashing through the air, but her movements began to slow. Each strike was a little more labored, each dodge a fraction less nimble.
Her soldiers, though brave, were being cut down one by one, their inferior armor and weapons no match for the might of the Hylian army. Sovi could hear the cries of her people—their screams echoing in the streets as the invaders surged deeper into the city.
Her wings flexed again as she shot through the air, her sword cleaving another soldier in half with a single stroke. But she was tired. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and the heat in her body burned fiercely as she continued to fight. She could feel her strength draining, her movements becoming less precise. She wasn't sure how much longer she could last.
"Sovi, we need to fall back!" one of her generals shouted as he fought to protect the civilians fleeing toward the western border. "They're too many! We can't win this."
Her eyes flicked toward him, the truth of his words sinking in. There were too few of them left, and the invaders were pressing harder with every passing second. She had taken down dozens, but the army before her was unyielding. The weight of her exhaustion crushed down on her, and she could feel the pull of fatigue setting in.
"I will not abandon my city!" Sovi shouted, her voice hoarse as she pushed herself forward. Her sword slashed through another soldier, and she tried to keep moving, but her steps grew more sluggish, her wings slower. Every beat felt heavier than the last.
One of the Hylians lunged at her, his spear aimed at her side. She twisted just in time, but the spear grazed her wing. She glanced at her wing, seeing no injury, she cut down the aggressive Hylian. She was running out of time, and the reality of her situation began to set in.
"Sovi, please! We must retreat!" another soldier cried out, her voice tinged with desperation.
Sovi's eyes, both glowing and spinning, met the soldier's. She hesitated for a moment, but she knew the battle was lost. Her forces had been shattered, and the city had fallen. She couldn't protect them all. Not like this.
With a final, painful gasp, Sovi turned her back to the battle, her wings still flapping slowly as she pushed herself away from the carnage. Her body screamed with exhaustion, but there was no choice now. Her people needed to escape, and that was the only hope left.
As the last of her soldiers and civilians fled westward, making their way toward Viskov, Sovi looked back one last time. The city was lost, but her people were not. They would live to fight another day. With one last powerful beat of her wings, she followed the retreating forces, the weight of defeat settling heavily on her shoulders—but the resolve to ensure her people's survival still burned within her.
…
The moment the defenders vanished beyond the gates and into the west, the Hylian army surged through what remained of the city's outer defenses like a flood released from a broken dam. Without resistance to slow them, the soldiers scattered through the streets in disorganized packs, their orders forgotten, their discipline quickly replaced with hunger and greed.
They broke down doors with shields and boots, storming into homes and shops alike. The sound of shattering wood, crumbling stone, and terrified screams echoed through the narrow alleyways. Pots were overturned, chests cracked open, and whatever gold, grain, or goods the citizens had failed to carry with them were snatched up without hesitation.
Smoke began to rise as the first fires were set—whether by accident or malice didn't matter. Sacks of flour ignited as torches were tossed into kitchens. Tapestries were torn from walls, and sacred relics, once carefully guarded in shrines and family altars, were smashed underfoot or pocketed like trinkets.
A Hylian lieutenant barked out, "Take everything of value! Leave nothing for the dogs of Viskov!" His men cheered in response, dragging stolen goods behind them, even as frightened townsfolk—too old, too injured, or too slow to flee—were pulled from hiding places and forced into the streets.
Children wailed, clutching at parents or older siblings, as soldiers herded them away to question or worse. Livestock ran wild in the chaos, bleating and screaming through burning courtyards. A horse, set loose from the royal stables, galloped past with part of its mane aflame, disappearing into the smoke.
At the city square, a group of Hylians tore down the banner of House Sovi from the palace gate and raised a crude flag—red and black, depicting a jagged spear through a broken crown. A brutal declaration that the city had fallen, and a new power ruled now.
From the balcony above, a younger Hylian captain laughed as he hurled a Sovi City Flag—a horizontal triband; grey, white and grey with a black sideways S in the center—onto the mud below, stained and torn.
"This is only the beginning," he said to no one in particular. "Let the world see what happens to those who defy us."
The smoke rose higher, curling into the pale sky like a signal to the rest of the continent: Sovi had been broken.