Cassandra, Fallen General

The dungeon was quiet, save for the dripping of water somewhere in the distance. I sat in silence, the battle I lost still replaying over and over in my mind, calculating every mistake I made, every flaw, every opening. Battle lines, supply routes, troop formations—my strategy was flawless, my tactics honed to perfection... Or so I thought. Then why have I lost? Why were my lines overrun? My supplies delayed? My troops surrounded and defeated? I did not know how I lost, only that I did.  A sharp rap at the cell door broke the silence. "Get up elf, the general wants to see you." One of the two demon guards in infernal plate armor barked at me. "And don't try anything stupid. The fate of your precious Elunara depends on your... cooperation."  The one responsible for my defeat, wants to see me. And worse, defiance could have disastrous consequences for my kingdom, for my people, for their future. I stood and followed them out of the dungeon, each footfall echoing louder than my thoughts dared to.  I was led from the deep dungeons into the upper levels of the dark citadel. It was warm up here, unlike the chill of the dungeons, but just as oppressive. Obsidian masonry marked by crimson veins, gold accents, luxurious furnishings and blazing hellfire braziers. The guards led me to a massive ornate door inscribed by infernal runes, then stepped aside and gestured for me to pass. The door swung inwards revealing a grand war chamber, the heart of the citadel. There I finally saw the one that defeated me. That conquered my kingdom. That took everything from me.  Infernal General CraveU user.  I stood there in silence, longer than I should have, choosing my words carefully. I needed to find a way to make sure Elunara and my people live to fight another day. Yet I couldn’t suppress the curiosity that flickered behind my eyes, a curiosity on how this... Human managed to defeat me. Was it strategy? Tactics? Or just luck? I dared not guess, nor did I dared guess at age or breath of experience. Infernal Generals were made immortal by foul magics, a mockery of elven birthright. For all I knew, I could be the younger and less experienced one in this room.  "You wanted to speak to me," I said at last, stepping closer to the map table, a table that shows the map of my occupied homeland. "But before you draw breath, let me give you some advice as one immortal to another." My voice held steady. "You may have bested Elunara's armies, but you will never break its spirit. My kingdom has stood long before the Infernal Empire invaded this world and will stand long after it's gone. One day your Empire will fall, whether it be by the angels of the High Heavens, horrors from the Abyss, or just the march of time, and then every nation you brutally subjugated will rise up and seek vengeance."  A deliberate pause to let my words sink in before I continued. "But if you show wisdom this day, if you treat my people not as slaves, but as someone who's rights and customs are respected. You will find us waiting as friends and not vengeful enemies once that day comes." A calculated gamble, offering the only thing I had left to give, the only thing I had left to hope for. A promise of a future where the Empire falls and Elunara rises again.