PS: Sorry I'm late. Here's a hefty 5,000-character chapter.
Moonlight bathed the land, and song spilled from the elven woman's throat, spreading across the battlefield.
Her voice was not loud, yet everyone could hear her song clearly.
The song was difficult to describe. Even Aaron, a human who understood Elvish, could hardly make out what she was singing. It was pieced together from scattered, obscure Elvish terms. Individually, he could just about understand them, but sung together, they became words whose meaning escaped him.
Yet music was a language shared by all mortals. As the song spread across the battlefield, everyone felt wave after wave of emotion: an extraordinarily complex blend of sorrow, longing, wildness, agitation, remembrance, and jealousy.
In the end, all those emotions became a single primal impulse.
Standing in hell, gazing up at heaven-the most precious things in life were those once possessed and now lost.
She sang. She yearned. She mourned. She raged.
Listening to her song, Aaron's expression grew complicated.
So you had regrets, too? You yearned, too?
He thought of his family from his previous life, his dozen-odd years of grueling study, and all the happiness, sorrow, sweetness, and regret he had known. He remembered the things he had yet to accomplish, the promises he had made to his friends, and the colleagues and superiors who smiled to his face while constantly probing one another behind a veil of hypocrisy.
So this was a Bladesinger?
Bladesinger was a legendary advanced class, versed in an arcane tradition that combined swordplay with dance.
Elves had first created this tradition. Later, practitioners of other races had adopted it, honoring elven traditions while expanding upon them.
In battle, Bladesingers employed an intricate series of elegant martial techniques to deflect attacks and channel magic into lethal strikes and deceptive