Month: March 2022

The hours grew late as Tyler led Annastaria to the borders of Mennadesh and Oenkev, just towards the outskirts of the land, half consumed in warfare. From the third floor of a bombed in building, without walls, but still half the floor, Annastaria stood, watching one of the checkpoints, getting a scout’s view.

It was instinctive for her to recon an area, especially one as crucial as this one. But in none of her recon missions did she experience an overwhelming sense of confusion as this. She had reached the border that she was looking for, but the sight of it did not welcome her; it would be a challenge in itself to get through.

There was an open area at least fifty feet from the border checkpoint, which was identified mostly by the excess of floodlights pointing out into the small city they were in, and the countless hundreds of people who were lined up and gathered together around the border. 

“This is the third southwest gate.” said Tyler as he approached Annastaria. She continued to scan the area, looking for any kind of exploit to the checkpoint. But from her view, with what she could see of the darkening sky, it was too overwhelming. 

“Is it always this full?” she asked.

“Not always. But given the last few days of fighting, the Olerbant rebels ‘ve gotten more and more… unhelpful… You know what I mean.” Tyler contemplated a moment to go into detail of the horrific crimes of the Olerbant rebels. There was no need. Both of them had already seen enough the last few hours. Of course, the Mennadesh military were not without their own crimes. They had grown desperate in their attempts to flush out the Olerbant, and had killed or injured civilians deliberately to do so. The desperation of both sides was intensifying by the day, trying to gain control of northern Mennadesh. For most people, they just wanted to get away from it.

“We cannot get through in this way.” said Annastaria. 

Tyler scanned with her. “That’s why we’ve got a better, and more concealed way.”

Annastaria didn’t respond immediately, but trusted Tyler knew what he was doing. She continued to scan, seeing before her a city that seemed to come out of a fantasy apocalypse novel. There was almost no order, with people who looked homeless roaming the streets. Mennadesh in the north was very different from the south. 

“I do not understand how it can be so destructive here,” she said, “and yet the south is so… peaceful.”

“Well, if it continues like this, the south will undoubtedly feel the pain.” answered Tyler. He sighed, “It’s a real shame. The people here are trying to escape war and we close off our borders to them.”

Annastaria remained quiet, sensing the conviction in him. She didn’t know enough about Enussian politics to really speak her mind without looking foolish, or suspicious. She also didn’t seem to find it in her to care too much. The aenmen brought these miseries upon themselves.

“Worse still,” Tyler continued, “this border wall the Oenkev government’s made is itself illegal. They’re at least twenty miles inside Mennadesh territory without sanction here. Now lots of locals and farmers are cut off from family and are forced to go through these miserable things just to see each other.”

“You said you have a way through?” Annastaria asked.

He looked back at her with a smile, “That’s why you hired me, isn’t it? Come on, follow me.” He led her off the vantage point and they proceeded north, along the walls, but a good distance from the crowds and the fence itself.

They walked past more groups and groups of civilians and refugees who were accumulating at the border, waiting for their turn at the checkpoint. There was an intercom system that was calling people by number for their turn, treating them as nothing more than statistics, or cattle. Only one day into aenman lands, and Annastaria had seen the stories she had read about the treachery of the aenmen, even to each other, fulfilled in greater ways than she had imagined. She walked past families, and children, who were tired and beaten, scared and unsure, who only wished to go home, something she was already able to sympathize with on some level.

After some time of moving through the crowds, with the checkpoint and the intercom fading in the distance behind them, the people seemed to become less and less, and the sunlight faded more and more in the distant west. Nevertheless, the smell of burning metal, the faint gunpowder from war, as well as the distant sounds of warfare that eased into the air from the east remained. It was a difficult journey through the warzone for Annastaria and Tyler. They were nearly shot several times, and almost captured by rebels, particularly by the Olerbant who had stories of harsh treatment to civilians and especially women.

“We have a contact waiting for us.” Tyler said as they proceeded north, paralleling the border wall, “Just up the road here. He’ll take us through a hidden canal tunnel. They’ll be departing at seven, on the dot. That means they won’t be waiting for anyone, giving us about twenty minutes.”

“It must be difficult to obey such a small schedule,” said Annastaria.

Tyler shrugged, “That’s just the way things are. The Oenian government knows there are underground operations undermining their security efforts. Their patrols both in front and behind the borders have become more prominent and sophisticated as a result. That means we have to time these operations when the opportunity comes open. No later, no earlier.”

Annastaria could easily understand that. Such careful thinking and planning was part of the wood elves’ philosophy of combat. Adapting and carefully observing one’s enemy and even friends in order to defeat them. “Make sure you keep that head garb over you.” he continued, “We don’t want them knowing your elvish origins.”

Annastaria recalled her real origins, the likes of which Tyler didn’t appear aware of. Part of her wondered how he couldn’t make the connection which, to her, seemed so obvious. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t fully elvish that threw him off, or perhaps the fact that he made a few passing looks at her that seemed to soften suspicion towards her. He didn’t think she saw it, but she did, and as uncomfortable as it was, she knew it was useful for her progress. 

Fortunately for Annastaria, all she had to do was cover her ears, which were clearly elvish. Her aenman half gave her enough facial features that if she covered her head and ears, most would look past the slight elvish features on her face, such as the gaunt in her cheeks and her slight nose-bridge prominence. But her uniquely blue eyes that almost glowed in the dark would be hard to mask. Fortunately, they were going in the dark, increasing her chances of concealment.

They were on time and within minutes had met Tyler’s contact with the group. He was waiting near a tree, outside a rural area, on a street corner, just in front of an old gas station. Beyond them were more buildings and the Oenkev border wall after that. 

“Are we ready to go?” asked Tyler. 

The man looked around, as though watchful for someone. “Almost.” he said, “There’s a small problem.”

“What is it?” asked Tyler. Annastaria observed carefully, but quietly. 

“There are Olerbant sympathizers in the area,” said the man, “looking to recruit fighters” 

Annastaria looked at Tyler, who went silent, and looked away as though for a moment, he forgot where he was. But he regained his composure. “Do they know of the convoy?” he asked. 

The man shook his head, “No.” he answered, “But that could change by the minute. They’ve already been harassing some of the convoy members. We have to move out in ten minutes, and we need to get those people away from those thugs safely.”

Tyler took a moment to think about what to do, and contemplated confronting the sympathizers himself. If he could distract them long enough, perhaps the others could get away. He looked at Annastaria; she was top priority to keep safe. Then he turned once again to the other man, “Let’s get moving then. We’ll just try and get through them.” 

Annastaria wasn’t sure what to think, and what to do if she had to defend herself. Olerbant recruiters were found scattered about the refugee herds, trying to get young men to join, and they were known to harass people as well, trying to browbeat them into the ranks. She wasn’t sure ignoring them would help, and if they saw her, it could be bad news. But she could not assert herself to risk exposing her true nature.

Tyler and Annastaria followed their contact further into the suburbs. They could see over some of the buildings a number of bright lights, and could hear another intercom system, indicating a border checkpoint was over those buildings. They moved past a few more groups of civilians, many of which gathered around fires to keep warm as the cold air of the night settled in. This suburb was not terribly damaged, but ever since the conflict had risen, these areas had been struck with poverty, leaving most homeless and trying to get out. The contact led Tyler and Annastaria through the people, and around buildings. 

“Where’d you last see the Olerbant men?” Tyler asked as they proceeded. 

The man pointed to his right, “Off to the north that way. They’re probably still around here.” 

Annastaria looked around, but saw no one out of the ordinary. She could hear a truck in the distance moving around beyond the buildings to their right and people shouting somewhere over them.

They came to an alleyway, where three men stood quietly and watching the area around them. They seemed like any other refugees, but Annastaria sensed something more, given their behavior, and how they locked eye-contact with Tyler as he came closer and closer to them. One stepped forward, looking around as he did, and didn’t wait for Tyler to approach him. “Tyler,” he said, “we got bad news. I’m sure you’ve already heard about the Olerbant recruiters… They’ve just grabbed several of the convoy members.” 

 Tyler froze, almost blurting out a curse. But he controlled himself, turning around to scan the area. With a sigh, he turned back to the man. “Who’d they take?” he asked. The man was afraid to say, hesitating to speak. “Borsoven,” Tyler said, “tell me who they took and where.”

Once more, Borsoven hesitated, but sighed, “It was a few young kids. Most of them boys. A few are very young, too.”

Annastaria felt a knot tighten in her gut, and she turned her attention back to the sound of the truck in the distance. They took kids? Why? They had nothing to do with this. Aenman treachery was a terrible reality, but this? This couldn’t stand. But what could she do? Her mind raced to find ways to find and deal with them. Yet how? She couldn’t risk being seen being anything other than a helpless elvish girl. 

“We think they’re holding them by the outgoing trucks at the end of main street, by the old coffee shop.” Borsoven continued.

“What are the Oenian soldiers doing about it?” asked Tyler.

“Nothing of course. They’re not interested in the rebel war. They just want to keep the crazies from getting into Oenkev… Tyler, we need to move.” 

Tyler looked down, his eyes unable to focus on any one thing. Before he could contemplate much further, a truck drew near from behind them, just one block down, its engine roaring for attention. People scattered as the truck came through like an angry boar and stopped at the corner, filled with about seven men, beaming its lights at anyone in its path. The men leaped out and with a parameter, stretched out from the truck, daring people to provoke them.

“Where do you all think you’re going?” shouted one, “Leaving so soon? Fleeing your home? Leaving it to the RTF tyrants? Or the Vale in the north? Only cowards flee! And one day, while you hide in the precious arms of the imperial world of Enussia, the Vale will come for you too, and you will wish you stood and fought while there was a chance!”

“Tyler,” said Borsoven, as the Olerbant continued to harass people, “we can’t afford to have them discover our convoy here.” 

“One more reason why we need to rescue those kids.” Tyler said, “We can’t risk them telling the Olerbant about where they were going.” Borsoven fell silent. As much as he hated it, Tyler made a point. The men began to make their way towards them. There was no choice now; Tyler couldn’t risk them drawing attention to the convoy. 

“Get everyone ready to go.” he said to Borsoven, “I’ll go keep them busy.”

“What about you?” Borsoven asked. Annastaria watched quietly, curiously, and still plotting in her own mind. But an aenman risking his life? Tyler looked at each of them, and particularly at her. “I’ll be fine.” he said, “If I’m not back by the time the convoy has to go, then go. Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself out here. You guys’ve left without me plenty of times to save the others.”

“Be careful Tyler.” Borsoven replied.

Tyler looked at Annastaria. “I can’t have them finding you or the others…” he said to her, “I might not be able to help you get all the way to Levaan.” 

She had already decided in her mind what she was going to do, but she wasn’t going to tell Tyler. “Do what you must.” she replied, “I will be fine.” Tyler looked at her once more; another soft look, one most valuable to her use. He broke eye contact as others volunteered to go with him. He nodded, and they walked off towards the Olerbant.

Borsoven looked at Annastaria once, turning his focus on her safety. “Well, I suppose for you it’s off to the convoy.” he said, “Follow me–and don’t worry about Tyler, he does this stuff all the time.” Borsoven looked at one of the remaining crewmen and had him escort her through the back alley. 

“I’m really sorry that all this is happening.” said the young and slender man as she followed behind, “But don’t worry, we’ll have you on the boats and moving in no time. Just keep calm and stay close. You’re gonna be fine.”

Annastaria remained quiet, looking carefully at the walls of the back alley. It was nice and dark, and crowded with many props to help her scale the buildings and evade notice. “May I use the bathroom, if you have one?” she asked. 

The man stopped, turning around to her, as if he was struck suddenly from behind. He didn’t know what to say or even do for a moment. But he looked around nervously, realizing nothing here was ideal for a lady’s restroom. Then he saw another dark alleyway to the left. “I guess…” he said, awkward and hesitant, “you can go there. That’s the best we got right now… Sorry.” He shrugged with a face as though he wet himself.

“It is fine.” Annastaria replied with a quick, innocent smile, “I have been used to this for a few weeks now.”

“Be quick. I’ll wait out here.”

She did as he said, and ran down the alley, and he turned away. Annastaria looked back to see if she was clear. No one was watching her, and she went to start using the ladders and window frames to start scaling the wall and moving up, quick, efficiently, and quietly. It was like climbing solid, metal and concrete trees and cliffs. She didn’t need to make many adjustments at all.

The young man escorting her still didn’t seem to realize what she had done. She came over to the other side of the building, and made her way down just as quick. Finally, she dropped down and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Only one or two, but no one paid any real attention. She made a dash down the road, keeping to the sidewalk and coming to the end of the block. 

She stopped right at the corner and peeked over, seeing the Olerbant truck still parked, and Tyler debating with the Olerbant recruiters. She had to get across the street without being noticed. As if on cue, there was a group of people walking up behind her. She waited for them, and once they walked past her, she passed by in their midst, and move easily across the road without anyone, including Tyler, seeing her. She peered back once to see if they had noticed, and she wondered if, even without this group of refugees, Tyler would have seen her. He was so focused on arguing with the Olerbant that likely nothing else concerned him.

Once she was across, she broke from the crowd and continued moving down the road going east, away from the border wall and then cut a corner down a back road between buildings that was lightly roamed by a few people, none of which appeared to be a threat. Annastaria hastened across the road, going north and coming to the other side, which was the main street. She looked left, which was west, and down the road was the border checkpoint, where most of the refugees were gathered. She then turned right, where she saw trucks similar to the one the first group of Olerbant rebels Tyler was arguing with came in. There she saw, sitting down by the trucks were about eight people, mostly young adults, or teenagers. Three were little ones, however. They were being guarded by more Olerbant rebels. 

Those had to be the ones Borsoven was speaking about. Refugees were shouting at the Olerbant for their kidnapping crimes, but they could do little; the Olerbant thugs had control of these people for the most part. Annastaria looked around for anything she could do that would free the kids, but without exposing her true nature. The best thing she could do was to come up with a distraction. She looked back at the checkpoint, seeing the Oenian soldiers and their own armored cars, prepared to protect them and remembered that Borsoven said that the Oenkev soldiers were not interested in the affairs of the people out here. But that might change if they were provoked to engage Olerbant rebels.

She contemplated a moment on her next move, and paced across the street, on the side that the rebel kidnappers were on, and made her way towards the truck. She stood in the midst of an angry crowd that could only shout, but had no weapons to fight these militant rebels. Like a hunter spying its prey within the tall grass, Annastaria scanned the truck and the unaware rebels around it. She focused her mind, and eased her way through the group, closer to the rebels, until there were just two people to move past. She took a deep breath, and threw the two aside, dashing at the Olerbant and shoving one into the truck. 

He slammed into the truck, tumbling over the side of the bed he was in front of, and falling to the ground. A moment of shock riveted through the Olerbant and the crowd, before the thugs drew their weapons on Annastaria, who fled back into the crowd. Her speed was greater than theirs, and even more so, her ability to weave through the crowds, slipping through even the thickest of them, drawing the men towards the Oenian checkpoint. She became harder and harder to see as she distanced herself from them, but they managed to keep their eyes on her, fueled by their rage. By the time they came within only feet from the border patrol, the rebels stopped as border guards approached them. 

“You men need to step back, right now!” demanded one of the guards, rifle at the ready.

“What the hell is this about?” one of the Olerbant rebels replied.

But the guard wouldn’t have it. “I’ll tell you one more time to step back and leave!” he ordered.

The Olerbant rebel prepared his reply when the darkening area lit up with an orange blast off to his left, causing the crowds and soldiers to nearly drop to the ground. Chaos flew through the town as people scattered and soldiers stiffened their postures. Oenian guards instantly swarmed the rebels, aiming their rifles at the men. 

“Freeze!” they demanded, “On the ground now! Now!” 

The rebels attempted to reason, but the Oenian soldiers would have none of it. As soon as Tyler heard the explosion, he flinched, and his eyes turned over the rebel’s shoulder to the bright light over the buildings, and as he did, the rebels he was arguing with dispersed, jumping back into their truck to drive off. 

“There are more of them in that truck over there!” an Oenian soldier shouted. Someone had been pointing out these rebels as well, as the Oenian soldiers scattered in search of every rebel sympathizer to arrest. Tyler didn’t know what to think, except that he needed to find those kids before it was too late. He raced across the street, dodging the waves of people running in every other direction from one another, trying not to get caught in swells.

Annastaria returned hastily to the truck after she set off the explosion, herself trying to not get overwhelmed by crowds. She was quicker than Tyler to see them coming, and adjusted her pathway accordingly. Two rebels remained at the truck where the kidnapped kids were held, frightened, but not willing to retreat. “What do we do?” asked one with a stutter in his voice.

“I don’t know!” said the other, “Where’d the others go?”

“I don’t know, but those Oenian soldiers are spooked–we gotta get outta here!”

A loud thud crashed behind them, from inside the truck bed, causing both to flinch as they jerked left and right to find the source. Just as one turned around, he felt a pair of hands grip his head, one hand on his scalp, the other on his jaw and jerked his head to his right, nearly snapping his neck, causing it to cramp and numb his entire body, and he collapsed. The other one looked up and before he could figure out what had happened to his friend, Annastaria leaped over the truck bed, and thrust both feet into his chest, launching him several feet away and tumbling to the ground. The young ones looked up at her, and stepped back, while the older boys made like shields for the little ones against her. 

“Do not worry.” she said, revealing her face to them “I am here to help. A man named Tyler is coming for you right now. You know who he is?” One of the older boys nodded his head. “Good,” she said, “follow him and he will lead you to safety.”

“Hey!” a familiar voice cried out at her. It was Tyler, running as fast as he could towards her, “Stop right there!” Annastaria threw her head garb over her face again, and leaped back behind the truck, disappearing behind it into the alley. Tyler and the men with him wanted to go after her, but had no time. They approached the kids, seeing their captors were not a threat anymore. “Are you guys okay?” Tyler asked. 

“We’re fine.” said one of the boys. That was good enough for Tyler. He took the lead with no more time to waste, and they made their way through the chaos and back to the alleyway. It took about two minutes to get there, with only seconds left before the convoy would leave, if it hadn’t attempted to bail out already. Annastaria managed to get back first, appearing once more from the dark alley that the young man left her in, who was calling out to her at this point to come back, and feeling he had to find her, but unwilling to catch her inappropriately. He leaned his head further and further into the alley, while trying to keep his feet back when she reappeared to startle him. 

“Oh! There you are!” he said, relaxing himself, “Where the hell ‘d you go?” 

“I… must have gotten lost through there.” she answered, “I heard an explosion–is everyone okay? Where is Tyler?”

Tyler came through the alleyway at that point, followed by Borsoven and the kids, safe and sound. “We’re all accounted for!” Tyler called out, running through the alleyway with one child in his arms, “We need to go–now!” 

As Tyler ran past Annastaria, she looked at some of the kids, who recognized her as she put her garb back on. They looked at each other in the midst of the chaos for a moment; they knew who they were looking at. She winked at them, and put a finger to her mouth. They smiled at her, which was enough for Annastaria that they would not tell. Tyler and Borsoven, and their crew, led the refugees through the alley, into a canal system hidden in the back, and to a set of boats that fit them and the crew in it. 

There were four small, wooden row boats filled each with about five people. They could faintly hear the chaos above at this point, echoing through the tight walls. It was entirely black, save for a faint light flickering from fire-lit lamps, giving them just enough light to see the walls and a few feet ahead of them in the canal, and to see the dark water that softly splashed against the boats. The air was stuffed and moist, with an unwelcoming scent that Annastaria didn’t want to contemplate its origin. But that was the least of her distress. She stayed close to one of the lamps, in the same boat as Tyler.

“You okay?” he asked her in a quiet voice, which still echoed about the walls.

Annastaria recoiled, confusing Tyler. What could be frightening her suddenly? “I am fine…” she answered with a fake smile, “I am just… ready to be past this place.” 

“Don’t worry.” he said, reinforcing his assuring words with a smile, “We’ll be back out in about fifteen to twenty minutes, in the Felderran River.” 

“How did you manage to get the young ones?” she asked, “I heard an explosion.”

“Not sure… We didn’t cause that explosion. I just heard it, and the next thing I know, the Oenian soldiers were rounding up any suspected rebels they could find. I just bolted after the kids… I then saw someone approaching them from behind the truck. Probably some scavenger… I think I scared them off, though… Anyway, I grabbed the kids without a second thought and ran back. Looks like we lucked out with that one.”

“It would seem so.” Annastaria answered. Her words gave a secret sigh of relief that he didn’t realize it was her. Her plan had worked. The only ones who knew of it were the kids themselves. She looked at one of them again, who was in the same boat, making eye contact without Tyler’s apparent notice. For a moment, Annastaria’s anxiety of this tunnel dissipated as the little girl appeared content. Annastaria smiled at her, and the girl smiled back….. 

As darkness blanketed the city of Carzat within Oenkev, a group of four men entered a club, but they were not looking for girls, or a drink. Dressed casually, but all wearing leather jackets, they walked through the crowds, and spread about, scanning and carefully examining the mass of movement amongst the party-goers. The darkened room was illuminated by only a select few lights of different tints of yellow and red, and especially over the lively dance floor. It was the kind of liveliness that made their job worse.

In the upper level, which overlooked the first floor, were more slot machines, and bars attracting more party-goers. At the bar itself there were several people sitting and enjoying their time together. A young aenman man sat next to a lovely kamorjien girl, with much to say to her. His confidence in his charming spell on her increased as her smiles grew brighter and opened into laughter at his stories. Things were going just as he planned, until one casual look at the bartender. 

“Oden,” whispered the bartender to the young man. He looked up, his smile fading as he was distracted; the bartender said nothing more, and instead nudged his head up, causing Oden to turn around, looking down to the floor. Somehow, his eyes caught the four men almost immediately.

His body tensed, and his focus zeroed on them but he didn’t lose his confident composure. It was an utter shame–they were going to ruin an excellent night for him. He looked back at the kamorjien girl, who seemed unaware of his predicament. 

“Hey, I’m real sorry for the sudden interruption here,” he said, “but I really gotta go to the bathroom.”

The girl smiled at him. “Don’t keep me waiting.” she said.

“You got it.” Oden said, smiling back. Unfortunately, he had no intention of keeping his word.

Without another second to waste, Oden scurried off, planning his escape. The staircase behind him was too risky, as there was no way to get past those men without being seen. He kept his eye on them as he moved along the railing on the second floor, sifting through the groups of people. But he gave the men too much attention, and he crashed into a waitress in his path. 

“Ogh!” he let out as she dropped the tray of drinks. It crashed like cymbals, and the glass blew out in every direction.

People in the immediate vicinity spread about and away, making Oden the uncomfortable center of attention. But that wasn’t his worst problem. The noise and level of the disturbance was enough to get the attention of people downstairs, including the four men. The waitress shoved him, and threw aside all courtesy, hurling insults at Oden for his carelessness. At least, that’s what it seemed like to him; his gaze was set on the four men downstairs, who locked eyes for only a moment, and they started up after him.

“I’m really sorry!” he pleaded to the waitress, with his hands out to convey his sympathy, but he wouldn’t wait for her acceptance or rejection; he walked away, hoping to disappear in the dense crowds, struggling to get through the thick groups of people. He was about to break the line of sight the two pursuing men had on him. But as he looked ahead, he saw two more approaching from the other direction. About to be caught between them, he went right, and headed to a door that led further into the club. The four men saw his move and followed him, splitting up into two groups.

From an open room to what was like a maze, Oden made his way through yet still groups of people, but also now with a sight line limited to walls no more than eight feet apart, which also greatly obscured his options in his own escape. Any one turn could be his last or a dead-end. He went left, and almost a second later as he ran down the hall, he saw through a group of people, one of the men coming the opposite direction. Oden reverted himself and almost just as fast, saw the other two coming at him in the other direction. He had no choice but to go even farther into the club, which meant delaying and complicating his exit even more.

He hastened farther down the main hall, being followed by the four. Their plan of tightening and tightening Oden’s noose was working. He finally came to an open area where more people were at a bar and dance floor. He looked around, seeing various opportunities. There was of course an emergency exit, but it would trigger a fire alarm, and he didn’t want to resort to that option unless he had no other choice; escaping without them knowing he escaped was most desirable.

The four men were only seconds behind him as he scurried into a crowd of people just as they came into the open room, side-by-side, their heads turning to and fro, scanning tirelessly for their target. Oden was several feet away, hidden in a crowd of people with a glass of wine in his hand, acting casual. His only change in attire was adding a small top hat he found on a hanger, which covered his dark blonde hair. It was a minor alteration to his attire, but it was enough to throw off the four men; that and the fact that this room had more people, made it much easier for Oden to blend in. He simply had to slow down, rather than trying to flee, and just wait for his opportunity.

“Take it easy, guys.” said one of the men, sensing the anxiety in the others, “He’s in here somewhere. We just need to chill out, and spread out.”

The four men split up and started searching through the crowds of people. Oden felt the room get smaller as they split up, but he remained calm. They were moving further in, and now he saw his chance slowly coming into place. He carefully began to make his way to the exit, keeping close to the darker areas, the walls, and in the crowds. He was doing well, not looking at them directly, fearing they would turn to him at any moment. He was now just ten feet from the exit, while the four men were going farther and farther in. It was easy at this point. He was within a safe distance to the exit to stride four steps and out, when one of them turned; Oden choked down a loud gasp as he turned quickly, but subtly to the table just behind him.

His heart raced, and he battled every instinct to turn back around to see if the man saw him. Turning too quickly would point himself out. Battling his instincts, he peered back carefully, and hesitantly. A sigh of relief; they were not coming towards him, which could only mean that they did not see him. Without another moment to spare, he put the top hat back and dashed out the exit. But his momentary panic hadn’t completely worn off, and he tripped over the pole-rack, and knocked the whole thing down, and the wooden frame crashed into the ground with a loud snap. 

The four men turned in the instant and saw it. By the time they did, Oden was halfway down the hallway, and they ran back out the exit without a second’s hesitation. Oden ploughed his way through people in the hall at this point, making his way to the exit, throwing away all caution, wanting to get out as fast as possible.

He was finally back out into the main club room, on the second floor. He ran down the staircase and the four men split up once more, only feet behind him now. They were going to close him off before he could reach the exit. There was no way out now; he may have been swift and clever, but there were too many of them. They came to the exit, but met only each other–Oden was gone. They looked left, right and even up. 

“Where the hell did he go?” said one.

“I don’t know!” another said, “I was right behind him!”

“He must have made a quick one again. He’s still on foot, and can’t have gotten far. Let’s go!” 

They ran back out of the club and into the streets. But once they did, only ten feet away hiding at a dessert bar, Oden turned around to see them leave. Once again, he made one small adjustment to his wardrobe with a black blazer he quickly picked off from a coat hanger while on the run. Cautiously, he walked outside the club to see just how far the men got. They were almost three blocks away. Oden smiled, and looked at the blazer he found himself wearing. 

“Nice jacket.” he said, adjusting it as he turned to one of the bouncers, “That went rather smoothly, don’t you think?”

“You knew they were coming, didn’t you?” the bouncer replied with his own smirk.

“Just a little.” Oden replied with a shrug, “The club’s always the best place to lose a tail.”

“But you know they’ll be back eventually… You can’t stay here, Oden.”

Oden’s smile nearly faded completely as he turned around to the door again. “No, I suppose I can’t.” he said. He liked Carzat. He didn’t want to have to go, but it was inevitable, especially now. The longer he stayed here, the worse off he was. But that could wait till morning. His smile returned to strength as he turned back to the bouncer, “But this will definitely buy me good time. I could use a drink!” He patted the man on the shoulder and casually walked back inside the club with his new blazer worn proudly.

The four men found the nearest payphone to make a call. One they dreaded, but knew if they didn’t, would doom them for sure. They each fought for who got the privilege of not having to make the call. Alas, one had to, and he stepped to the phone. He was tired, and beaten, knowing that he and the others would be lucky if Lance just took a chunk out of their next pay. He waited as the phone rang and rang, wanting to be anywhere but here, to make this call. Finally, it picked up. 

“Who’s this?” the voice on the other end said. 

“Lance… It’s Dant.” the man replied. He hesitated for a moment but finally confessed, “We lost him. This guy’s good, sir. We tracked him to a club. Thought we had him trapped for sure.”

“You tracked him to a club?” said Lance, almost before Dant could finish his sentence, “That didn’t strike you as suspicious in any way? You realize what this guy has, don’t you? And you think he’s gonna just stop and take a night off in a club?”

“Maybe we can go back, and try and re-trace his–” 

“–Excuse me-excuse me, have you not been listening?” Lance interrupted, “The guy tricked you into thinking you had him with his pants around his ankles. You really think he’s dumb enough to leave such an obvious trail?” Lance paused as his voice began to rise. His right-hand man, Goate, watched anxiously, which Lance could sense; he took a deep breath, closing his eyes while massaging his nose bridge. “Gentlemen,” he finally continued, “you had just one job, and that was to track him. I didn’t ask you to try and go for the kill… Take tomorrow off–the lot of you. Good night.” and the line went dead. Dant stood silent, grinding his teeth, trying to contain his rage. But he slammed the phone on its hook and shook the whole thing.

Lance sat quietly in his headquarters, taking a large puff of his cigar, and blowing out the thick smoke as though he was giving out a large sigh of frustration. The news was on the television, broadcasting another tense standoff between the Febian soldiers and the protesters, discussing the political struggle between Febia’s failing monarchical system, the rising tensions and the Enussian Union’s possible intervention. Lance sat silently as the news went on, with his cigar in hand. He was surrounded by four more men, all wearing suits.

“What do we do now?” asked Goate, who sat in a chair across from Lance.

Lance took another puff of his cigar, his eyes still set on the television news. He thought for a moment on any possible resources or strings he could pull. “Put a bounty up for Oden.” he said to Goate, “We know who he is, what he looks like. Get as much info out as you can… And see if you can get anything out of any of our local contacts in the districts: dealers, gang-bangers–anyone. Anyone that can help us find this little rat. His own contacts have to connect with ours at some point. I want him caught before he can leave the city.”

“Where do you suppose he’ll go?” 

Lance paused once more, holding back his own fear of the very question. “He’ll want to take it to the highest of authorities he can.”

“The EU? Can he even do that?”

“We can’t take that risk. He hasn’t tried local authorities; he knows we’re in those. He’ll have to get out of the city and find an EU station. If he gets that artifact into EU hands, everything we’ve been working for ‘ll be done.”

Goate and the others looked at each other. No one had to speak–they all knew what it meant…..

Morning came in the city of Levaan, with the sun glowing over a clear eastern horizon. Tyler had gotten his bags in order, and ready to go. He could hardly believe what had happened last night, and that he had the honor and privilege to help Erene. She was kind, beautiful, and caring. Even though she could do nothing, she was worried for the kids, and stayed as long as she could to make sure they got onto the convoy safely. That was not something he could let go unrewarded.

He stepped outside his door, his pack over his shoulder, and looked left and right down the hall. The sun coming through the windows felt different this morning. It was like a breath of fresh air. He walked down to the room he helped Erene get, giving her the privacy to stay in her own place. He felt somewhat strange; he had never done this for a refugee before. There was something about her that made him unwilling to just send her off after getting off the boat last night.

He contemplated knocking on her door, but didn’t want to ruin any hope for future friendship by intruding on her morning, whatever kind of routine it was. He would see her downstairs anyway. He smiled, even blushed some, and walked downstairs, hearing the news talking about the weather for the day.

A few people on their own journey’s were downstairs in the breakfast area, where he went to, and got himself some scrambled eggs and toast, and waited for Erene to come down. Five minutes turned into ten, and then to twenty. He checked his watch, after a second round of eggs and toast. Thirty minutes? This wasn’t right. But she was likely tired. Yesterday was a long and stressful day for her.

It reminded him that he wanted her to be able to go on as comfortably as he could make it. Getting her across the Mennadesh border was one thing. What kind of man would he be to go this far out of his way and then make her pay the hotel he had her stay at? This should make things even easier for her. He stood up and approached the hotel counter, handing his key to the man at the desk.

“Hi,” he said with a welcoming smile, “I’m here to pay for room one-thirteen.”

The man acknowledged the request, and began to review the log. “Twenty-two dollars and fifty cents.” the man said.

Tyler took out his wallet and began sifting through the bills he had. “Oh and,” he said, “the young lady who came with me last night. I got her room one-fourteen. I’d like to pay for that one as well.”

The man looked back at the logs, and checked once more. “The logs say it’s been paid.” the man said, looking up at a stunned Tyler, who stopped in the middle of pulling out the bills to pay.

“What?” Tyler asked, “There… must be a mistake.”

“Not according to the logs. Says here it was paid by Miss Erene Vennelle, this morning, just past six-a-m.”

It was a quarter to nine by now. Tyler stood frozen as the news slammed against his mind, and then slowly sank in…..

Annastaria was halfway across eastern Levaan now, moving via a bus that seemed to keep going west, where she needed to go. She looked out the window of her seat, keeping distance from everyone who came to and fro on the bus. So far, Levaan was like a larger version of Quote. Various buildings spaced from one another, all covered in concrete, bricks and people moving about them. Her gaze went out the bus window, and once more, she found herself unable to cease thinking about the prophecies, and the weight of her quest. She tried to pray, and contemplate what small portion of scripture she read this morning, before she made herself leave, and leave Tyler behind. It had to be done; she couldn’t risk him getting any closer than he did. He was useful yesterday, and now no longer. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking about the pendant on her necklace, which she had in her hand, slowly massaging it. Where did it come from? She thought long and hard on perhaps missing any kind of hint about it from her father or anyone else, but nothing seemed to come of it. 

The bus came to a clearing, where neither building nor trees obstructed any view of the distant north. Annastaria glanced farther out, her mind momentarily drawn away from the quest, with a view of the mountains in the far northeast that were some sixty miles away. Some called them the Mystic Mountains, but they were known formally as the Daruggamon Mountains or “Mountains of the Dragons”. It was a beautiful sight, but she was more focused on ensuring they were there to tell her she was going in the right direction.

A voice came from a strange device in one of the corners of the bus, “We’re approaching East Projects, ladies and gentlemen. Sit back and enjoy your ride, and ring the driver if you need to get off at the upcoming stop. The weather today is supposed to be partly cloudy, with a high of twenty-eight degrees, celsius. Hope you’re all ready for the winter just around the corner!”

Annastaria listened to the last line, which the voice uttered with excitement, but for her, it was given with irony. Winter was indeed coming, and if she didn’t get through Oenkev in time, would make her journey to Mennix and back even more burdensome.

Annastaria and Uramuun were through the pass, and camped the night on the western side of the mountains. It was a cold night, which was to be expected; the elves of the Sarke region were acquainted with the cold. But Annastaria’s mind would not rest well, sleeping in pockets of five and sometimes ten to fifteen minutes, but they were always followed by some twenty minutes at least of no sleep. The quiet of the mountains allowed the noise of this quest into the unknown to storm her thoughts.

Who else was sent on the quest? What was she to expect in aenman land? What if what Errnos said about her was true? That her cursed aenman side would be unable to resist the decadence of them? Questions that kept coming to mind, amidst random thoughts of her childhood, the clan, her father and sister, and what lay ahead in Enussia.

Wherever they were, they were immensely blessed. They were going to the real places of importance, to Bokshaer. But what was Mennix? Likely a silly little town, with no real significance. She was a prime, a master of masters, and yet she was being sent there. The thought boiled in her mind. This was it? All her part in this quest was just to go to the most worthless place of all, to offer no help to the others, and to essentially be made to be away from the clan in case the Black Priest attacked.

How was she supposed to return home, firstly having found nothing, and then to try and act as though she did something relevant to the mission? Worst of all, she still had to face everyone about the embarrassing lie that she actually killed the Paragott. It was too much, and all she could do was stare down from the mountain, looking to the open eastern hills in the deep west, the river below, and Quote that sat on the river about fifteen miles away from the campsite she and Uramuun made. Annastaria didn’t regularly venture past the Annavor mountains. Only once when she was fifteen as part of her training did she, and saw the town of Quote below.

She gave up trying to sleep, sensing the sunrise coming soon. Sitting outside her tent, she watching the sky steadily begin to rise in contrast. As she pondered the quest, she reached into her shirt and drew out the necklace she was given by her father, taking it from her neck and into her hand to look over for the first time since she received it. It was her only real comfort, and connection to home–a reminder of where she belonged, and what she was doing this for. It would be an important item in her inventory, one of a kind, and one needing the highest degree of secrecy. 

But as she examined it, something caught her eye. Something she hadn’t noticed until now.  Along with the stone of Kai, sculpted in pure silver, was a bronze pendant, with what appeared to be a redlock flower etched and colored on it. Annastaria didn’t know what to think, and tilted her head at the sight of this new artifact upon her necklace. A wave of questions came into her mind. Was it supposed to be on her necklace? Was it accidental? She never saw it until now. Did someone put it on her necklace while she slept? Uramuun was the only one with her.

Uramuun rose from his tent, and by now, the dim light of the sunrise emitted a blue tinted light upon the west. Almost immediately, he saw Annastaria sitting just a few feet from him, next to her tent, looking down to Quote. Beyond the town were more hills as far as they could see west into Mennadesh. He paused a moment, trying to figure out if her sitting there this early was a good thing or a bad thing.

“I hope you got some sleep.” he said, as he came towards her.

Annastaria didn’t look at him when she responded. “I did.” she said. She kept the Kai stone, with the mysterious pendant gently in her hand, and its existence still on her mind.

“Do you know how you will proceed into Mennadesh?” asked Uramuun.

The question took her mind off the pendant and onto the weight of the quest. She felt as though this was another one of Uramuun’s annoying quizzes, meant to show her how little she actually knew. She looked down to Quote to ponder it further. “I was thinking about a train that might take me through Mennadesh and into Oenkev sooner.” She waited for a response, but was given only a deafening silence. She looked up at him to see what he was thinking. “Is that not a good idea?” she asked.

Uramuun remained quiet for another moment, looking down at her. “I’ve heard worse, I’ll say that much.” he said.

The words stung, and her face warmed. She looked ahead again, and at her pendant in her hand. “It just seemed the faster, and most simple route.” she said.

“Of course.” said Uramuun taking a seat next to her, “But that may be the problem. Simple answers are rarely thought-out ones.” He paused looking at her for a moment. “Firstly,” he continued, looking out to Quote and Mennadesh with her, “there are no trains going into Oenkev, given the wars in Mennadesh right now. And if there were, that would cost money. You should try and conserve your limited resources of currency as much as you can… And there is always the risk, as using more public routes increase your chances of being exposed to unwanted attention.”

“What should I do, then?” she asked.

Uramuun paused again, wondering how much he should give away; the inquisitive Annastaria would undoubtedly desire to know how he knew this information. But he wished to help her as best as he could. “Once you arrive in Quote,” he began, “there is an inn known as the Suite of Favor. Seek it out. We have heard reports that there is an agent to a special underground operation that smuggles in refugees from Mennadesh into Oenkev. If you can get into contact with him, he may be able to help you.”

Annastaria’s eyes narrowed as she continued to scan the horizon, and then turned to Uramuun. “How’d you know about this?” she asked.

“Intelligence reports, of course. You know as well as I that our reconnaissance ventures beyond our borders to understand the lands beyond. It so happens that we’ve learned about this organization operating inside Mennadesh. It’s secret, and since it works for refugees, I would imagine it would be far less costly than a train that, in either case, is not there. It really is no surprise that such a group like this exists. War times always bring about these sorts of things.”

Annastaria considered the possibility in her mind, and it seemed good. But another problem came with it.  “But,” she said, “isn’t that criminal? To work with smugglers?”

“Don’t be naive, girl.” Uramuun said, with a light rebuke in his voice, “Remember, the aenmen are not people like us. They will not show you the same honor for the creed.”

Annastaria didn’t like that answer, but she didn’t know what else to say or do. He made an important point, one which, if she did not take to heart, would surely impede her progress. But even if it was not a good point, the sheer tone of his voice, which she always respected unquestionably, silenced her. Considering that alternative, it seemed this was the best thing to do. And she recalled her promise to Inaduur, that the aenmen were to be used, and they were not to be considered equitable to their own laws and creeds. Did traitors deserve equal treatment to the elvish principles? Surely not.

“Getting to the agent should not be difficult.” Uramuun said, “The difficulty may be proving to him that you are a refugee. They will help anyone who is truly in that need. They do not help hostile people, infiltrators, and elvish zealots, as they call us. You are all of these in their eyes.”

“I’ll have to provide a different identity then.”

“Then you will have to consider that here quickly. We must be up and moving.”

Annastaria sensed Uramuun preparing to rise to collect their things, and her mind raced back to the pendant. “Uramuun,” she intervened, causing him to pause. She showed him her necklace and the pendant, “Do you know what this is?”

Uramuun took it, and brought his eyes close enough to see. The Kai stone was clear in its meaning, but the pendant he did not recognize. He pondered on it for a moment. Perhaps it had some hidden meaning, but nothing came to mind. “This is… strange.” he said, continuing to scan it, “It appears to be an etching of… a redlock flower. They grow only in the west, on the borders of Febia and Berchazan… How’d you come about this?”

“I don’t know.” said Annastaria with a shrug, “I was up this morning, looking at the Kai stone, and I saw this.”

Uramuun tried one more time to look hard upon it and see what he could see, but yet still, gained nothing. It was of no familiarity to him. He handed it back to Annastaria, “I’m afraid I don’t know what it is. Perhaps someone placed it there for you? Your father?”

Annastaria took the necklace back, and looked aside as her mind shuffled theories. “If he did, why?” she asked, “And why not tell me? Because I certainly don’t know what it is.” 

Silence surrounded them both, and it told them that this conversation and inquiry met a dead end. They gathered their things, and made their way down the slopes of the mountain. By the time they reached the wooded area, the sun was coming over the mountains behind them. The towering shadow cast by the mountains gradually withdrew into them as the sun rose, illuminating the hills and open land to the west in a golden sunrise.

They were about an hour into their journey down the mountain slopes by now. The birds began to sing the morning rise, which Annastaria always enjoyed hearing. But there was an unsettling stillness in the air for this morning, despite the birds and the wind in the trees. Annastaria wasn’t sure if it was pure coincidence; a result of the morning rise being in a land she was not experienced in, or if it was in regard to the burden of her quest. Maybe it was some bit of both.

The stillness and quietness, aside from the birds, seemed strange given that Mennadesh’s northern region was supposed to be in a civil war. Even Quote, from where she could see it, seemed strangely at peace. There were no signs of war anywhere.

They came just to the end of the woods, walking Uramuun’s horse through it, and then stopped. This was not the same stop as any normal break. This one was different. It was the end of Uramuun’s part, and the beginning of Annastaria’s quest. From here, she would have to go alone. Elvish intelligence knew enough that the aenmen on the other side of the Urmak, though were not in any war status that they knew, where nevertheless very suspicious of the elves on the other side of the mountains. Two elves coming together would surely ruin her quest before it began.

“Here is where I can go no farther, child.” said Uramuun. The words sank deep. It was a rare moment in which the straight, un-romantic Uramuun actually managed to say something worth gleaning over. Annastaria looked on, out through the tree line and to Quote, which by now, was close enough that they could see wagon cars, and even some people here and there. As she looked, she saw a boat riding south along the river, likely a fisher’s boat.

The town was on the west side of the river, surrounded by hills, with buildings that went no higher than three, but most of which were up to two. There was a bridge that served as the main entrance from the east. But the road from the east never came up to the Bermuen Pass, given that there was no reason for aenmen to venture beyond the Annavor mountains.

What could she expect from being there? Just seeing it from where she was, and seeing the roads filled with movement was chaotic. Very much unlike what she was accustomed to. She felt a great pull trying to keep her from going, and risk tainting herself with the aenmen. Maybe this was what her father was warning about, what he was protecting her from. There was so much to say, and so many questions to ask. And yet, she didn’t know what to say to Uramuun.

“Remember,” said Uramuun, breaking the silence, and drawing Annastaria’s eyes to him, “you must be able to think outside of your mental barriers. As I told you this morning on finding this organization: Learn about the world around you, and look for better ways through. You must be careful as you proceed forth. Become your enemy, trying to thwart you at every turn, so that you might be able to anticipate it, and respond accordingly. You remember how we elves kept the Ossaer army from breaching the Everoth?”

Annastaria gave a nod before she answered, “When they came through, we went around and crushed them on all sides.”

“Precisely. Remember your training; never take a large enemy head on. You are an excellent air-manipulator, Anne. Remember the principle of air is to always use the wind, the momentum and power of your opponent against them. As what air always does, it lets them pass by,”

“And moves around behind them.” she finished again.

Uramuun almost smiled, seeing that Annastaria’s mind was being taken off the burden of the quest, and focusing on moving through it. That was what she needed. How well she could maintain the mindset, would be entirely up to her, but it was the right way to think. She looked down at the town again, and felt a strong energy come out of her from Uramuun’s talk. He always knew how to motivate her and the pupils he trained in the clan. He was a gifted leader.

There was nothing left to do but hug one another. After the embrace, they looked one last time at each other. Annastaria looked at him as if she was using him as a mediator to her father, a final goodbye before she had to leave. “May the gods be with you, Annastaria.” he said, and took his horse and returned back to the Pass.

She watched him leave for a moment. As always, Uramuun never looked back. He was a hardened warrior, a man who did whatever it took, and trained her and others rigorously. Annastaria rather preferred that he didn’t look back. It made it easier for her to move forward. It was probably the main reason he was the one taking her to the edge of Sarke. Anyone else, especially her father, would make the departure far more difficult than it needed to be. 

Now was the time to turn her eyes west. She remembered what Uramuun said, to take it one step at a time. Right now, her focus had to be on Quote, getting in without raising suspicion. For that, she needed an alibi, and from there, find a proper way across Mennadesh, into Oenkev. She already had a good outline to begin with, which was to find this group that Uramuun mentioned.

Annastaria moved south, which meant moving through the woods for a longer period of time. The woods gradually met the river, and she followed it , to conceal her movement from the east. Eventually, she came to the road that came from the south to the bridge that allowed for crossing into Quote. At this point, she was at least ten miles south of the town. She began walking up the road, and wondered perhaps if she could get a ride into town.

It was at least another ten minutes before she heard a humming sound, one unlike anything she heard before. It wasn’t the wind. It had to be one of those engine cars she read about, and often heard at great distances from the Annavor. It drew nearer, somewhere from behind her. She fought a desire to leap out from the side of the road, even though she was, at least she believed, safe from its pathway. The engine became louder and louder, more so than she thought they ever were, and she began to hear other strange sounds she hadn’t heard before. Should she signal it down? She wasn’t sure, and by the time she made up her mind, it passed her by. It would seem her faint hope that they might pull over to offer a young lady a ride was too much to ask.

She watched the car drive by, and felt her nerves rest slowly. But just as she was calming down, a wave of warm air blew by her from where the car came from, warm air that gave off a sour, unnatural and steamy smell. She choked as this horrid aroma violated all of her senses. If this was just a taste of what the Industrial Era had to offer, she loathed what she would find in Oenkev.

Another five minutes would pass and not a soul riding by attempted to give her aid into town. It would take another thirty minutes before she came to the bridge, which still maintained the old-world look, made mostly of concrete brick.

Crossing the bridge was about a fifty-foot walk. More boats that appeared to have been powered by small engines rode the river below her. And there were people, likely commoners, or peasants fishing along the banks of the river to her right. She looked at one, who happened to look up at her. Did he spot her? Was she caught? He was looking for too long. She nearly stopped, giving herself away completely, but his gaze turned down to the river again. Relief. Annastaria gathered her thoughts. “Keep it together, Anne,” she thought to herself, “they’re just seeing another person.”

 She continued into town, walking past marketplaces, shops and stores. These were things she expected to find, but she also came across things she did not entirely recognize. There were some kinds of engine shops; long buildings with large doors, and in each, were more of those engine cars. It seemed they were being worked on. The men in these places were wearing overall pants, covered in some kind of dark filth. It was like large horse barns, except for engine cars, and far more filthy.

Machines rattled from inside them, and hammers–metal to metal clashed. Every so often, she also saw sparks come from within them, and wondered if some form of magic was causing it. This must have been more of what the Industrial Era had caused. Another car drove by her, and once more, the smell it emitted came into her nose, with no regard for her personal space. The wave of warmth that came from it was unsettling. It was not like the warmth from the sun, which she could feel on her back as she progressed northwest. It seemed unnatural. But she had to continue on, and find somewhere in this place the Suite of Favor.

She came to an intersection, and looked at the road sign at the corner. Here her understanding of the language of the aenmen language of Durish would prove its worth. It took a moment of concentration for her to read the sign, and it was not like the signs of her people, or at least, the older ways, where the sign tended to point in the direction of the name of the thing you were looking for. These signs were simply long and rectangular, and gray in color. The lettering remained white, on a kind of material that certainly was not wood. It was thin and shiny. Could it be a form of metal? She wasn’t sure.

There were two larger signs, roughly two feet long and four inches tall, one paralleling the road moving farther west from the east, the other parallel south and north. These two were at the top of the sign post, which stood about ten feet tall. Below were smaller signs, and these seemed to give more detail of particular locations. These signs did actually point in a certain direction. Reading the words was like learning to run again. She had the alphabet of Durish down well, and with that, much of the sentence structure. Before she knew it, she realized a man was trying to talk to her.

Her eyes went to him, and her heart raced. “I am sorry,” she said, almost instinctively speaking elvish, “I-I did not understand you.”

“I was asking if you were lost.” he said, with a kind smile on his face, dressed in a dark coat and gray pants. Annastaria examined his outfit for a moment, mostly to see if she matched in any way, to blend in better. But she remembered he asked her a question, and realized that she didn’t understand him because she hadn’t gotten into the flow of speaking their language yet.

“Oh… Yes,” she said with a stutter, trying to get into the flow of speaking Durish, “I–I am afraid I am a little lost.”

“Oh,” he said, as if to catch an idea, “you’re elvish. That’s interesting.”

Annastaria’s panic almost poured out of her face, and she nearly threw out a quick rebuttal against accusations of being one of the “zealots”, but stopped herself, knowing there were no accusations coming from him. “Is that… okay?” she asked.

“Of course!” he chuckled, “I was just surprised. We don’t get elves too often, and certainly not from over the Annavor. But you don’t look like you’re from there. You must be from Ensosten, then, correct?”

Annastaria never considered that before, but his own inquiry was providential in helping her develop her alibi. There were non-zealot elves in Ensosten, which was south of Sarke and Mennadesh who had syncretized with the aenmen people ruling that nation. He didn’t think she was from the Sarke region, and even believed she was from aenman lands. This was good news for Annastaria. Her deception was working.

 “Yes,” she answered, “I only came up through here two days in the past.”

“Oh.” he said, observant and curious, “Well, my name is Schen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A quick thought came into Annastaria’s mind and shaking his hand, she smiled, “I am Erene.” she answered.

“Pleased to meet you, Erene. So where’re you headed?”

“I am… going northwest.” she answered slowly, trying to develop her alibi further. She already settled in her mind the main aspect of her story, which was a traveler looking for family further west, but she wasn’t sure how comfortable she was paralleling it with her real quest. Nevertheless, the words came out by default. “I am looking for a place called the Suite of Favor.”

“Ah, the traveler’s inn, as some like to call it. I know where that is.” Annastaria’s face nearly brightened at the answer. He continued, giving her visual direction, pointing further west down the road, “You go three blocks down this way, take a right at Ursen, and keep going as the road slowly turns left. Just keep going–I believe about three more miles–and it’ll be on your right. The sign’s pretty big, you can’t miss it.”

Annastaria absorbed the information, still trying to get in the flow of Durish. She paused, and attempted to paint a picture of the journey in her mind. “Thank you, Schen.” she said, “You have been most helpful to me.”

“Of course… I must be going now. Safe travels to you, Erene. I hope the gods grant you favor.”

Annastaria paused again. Aenmen invoking the faith of the gods for others? That was among the last things she expected one to say, let alone the first one she met. But she accepted his kind words, and pressed on, keeping his instructions in mind. 

It was another twenty minutes of walking, but that was not something Annastaria was unfamiliar with, and it was of no great burden. All she could think about was that conversation. It went well, and she felt good about it moving forward. There was no visible sign of suspicion from him at all that she could think of. A weight fell from her shoulders, and a significant one, too. It also seemed to make her walk even more quickly and more encouraged to press forth.

She took the left where Schen said, and continued down the road. It curved eventually, like he said, and that was a good sign she was in the right direction. Few people paid her any real attention; most of the people seemed more interested in their morning routines than to talk. It made moving along much easier for her, and less burdensome on whether she was fitting in well enough with the culture.

Not long after, the curving road went straight again, as she walked for another twenty minutes and saw across the street, at an intersection, just a few buildings down on the right, a large sign reading “The Suite of Favor” She crossed the street and past the shops just before it, as well as several bystanders and came to the entrance, pausing before she entered, as if some kind of force pushed her back, like in the woods. It felt as though wading through water, and coming to a point where the water of the stream forced her back, and it took greater effort on her part to push against it and walk through the door.

Before she could open it however, it cracked open itself, suddenly, startling her. She stepped out of the way as three men poured out like water, all dressed in dark overall clothing, like the ones from the engine shops. They glanced at her, almost as if they found her presence strange, but as most people, paid little more attention. Their looks were enough to cause Annastaria to refuse to make eye contact in return. They walked by her, and went the same way she came from, laughing to one another about some joke. She watched them a moment, holding the door open for herself before she turned her attention back to the inn and went inside.

It was an open room, with a tall ceiling; modern in its appearance, with a wood-finished bar, stools, chairs and tables. The floor was a kind of metal, however, which Annastaria found strange. Light from the windows gave most of the illumination, making it a warm presence inside the clean place.

The people inside seemed like commoners having breakfast, in a mostly empty restaurant. After a quick scan of the area, Annastaria approached the bar, where two older men were sitting and eating breakfast. She sat on a stool that was four stools down from both of them, and there was a radio playing the news, most of which Annastaria couldn’t understand.

“That cursed Valethorne Union.” said one of the two men, “They’re up to no good, as they always are.”

“How long till that comes down here?” said the other.

“Can’t be long now. I’d give it another two months, at the most.”

“Do you really think the Valethorne is behind it all?”

“I can’t doubt it. Not for a moment. The lords of that wretched place can never accept that the world has rejected them as its watchmen. Bunch of crazy, world-shattering wizards are the foundation of their fallen empire. Why would anyone buy into that?”

“I heard the greater part of the war is happening from two factions in the northern region of Mennadesh.”

“Meh, it’s all just a sideshow really. I heard that Valethorne soldiers were spotted moving through the northern borders from the northeast. You oughta know what that means. They got the Lydvia Fortress in their sights.”

“That can’t be possible. Too much, even for the Valethorne. The Enussian Union wouldn’t stand for it.”

“The Enussian Union is too busy with Febia right now, tryna prevent wars right within Enussian borders. Plus, there’s talks now of western Enussia having its own revolution against the union.”

Annastaria maintained an open ear to the men, and it was not difficult given her elvish hearing. But a worker tending the bar approached her, taking her mind off the conversation. 

“Good morning, young ma’am.” he said to her, “Welcome to the Suite of Favor. Passing through?”

“Yes. I am from Ensosten. I am going west to find family.”

“Interesting. Not uncommon for us to get travelers like that. So you have elvish family somewhere west?”

“Yes. At least, I believe I do. They are somewhere in Oenkev and I am looking to get there quickly.” Annastaria hoped her statements might, in passing, trigger some kind of dialogue about this organization of underground smuggling operations. She wanted to ask it straightforwardly, but at the same time, felt it might be too aggressive and withheld. Uramuun said it was a secret organization, and she knew a thing or two about underground, covert operations; they hide for good reason, and anyone who barrels their way into making contact is not taken kindly.

“Well,” said the waiter, “I’m afraid you picked a bad time to go to Oenkev, at least from Mennadesh. The Oenian government’s closed off the borders, keeping out any refugees looking for safety.”

Annastaria hadn’t thought about that before, and this presented possibly her first obstacle. If the Oenian government has closed off the borders, she may need to go around, which would take more time. “Why would they not allow in refugees?” she asked.

“Something to do with rumors of ‘unfriendly’ people coming through, causing trouble inside Oenkev and beyond. The rumors say that these people came from the Unesserian desert lands, who’ve been a real nic for Enussia since the Enador Gulf war.”

“Why is Mennadesh not a strong border nation?” Annastaria asked, “It is to the east of Oenkev.”

“It’s supposed to be, but recent political turmoil weakened the infrastructure of this little nation. Since then, Oenkev, which is strongly tied to the Enussian Union, hasn’t felt it wise to invest in Mennadesh. Unfortunately, as a local to this place, I have to agree with them. The civil war going on up north is proof that we can’t even get our own act together. Oenkev has been having to do its own border protection.”

This was all too complicated for Annastaria, even with just the small bit she’d been exposed to on the first day in aenmen territory. But as always, what could be expected from a people who have no orthodoxy, no gods to be held accountable to? As her father always told her, diversity must be built on the foundation of unity.

But Annastaria had to put that to the side for now. She was about to hit a dead end here. She had to push the initiative and see if she could get any information about this underground organization existing somewhere here in Quote. 

“Is it possible to find some way into Oenkev?” she asked, “Without having to go through the main entrances?”

A pause. The mannerism of the waiter changed, as if his entire demeanor towards her slowed, and she could swear his eyes narrowed as they stared at her. Did she push too much? But he relented the demeanor, staying silent for a moment. 

“Not that I would know of.” he replied, “But in the meantime, can I get you anything to eat? The nearest town from here due south is Peri, which is an eighty-mile stretch. You oughtta be hungry, and it’s another seventy miles from here to the next town west, through the Anre Plains.”

Although he seemed to return to normal outwardly, Annastaria could not stop thinking about that initial reaction to her question. It seemed to trigger something in him, and his quick dismissal and changing of the subject to breakfast felt unnatural. She didn’t know if she should really respond to the question of breakfast with a serious answer. Still, she gave a moment to think, but having already eaten, she wasn’t very hungry. 

“I had a breakfast before I set off this morning.” she answered, “But I could use a hot tea, if you have any.”

The man paused again, which only sent more suspicion into Annastaria’s mind. “Sure. I can get you some tea.” he answered, finally, and stepped away. Annastaria watched him. Somehow, what started as a genuine conversation, ended with the man seeming distant and observant. Now she wrestled in her mind whether she should take this as triggering a trap, and therefore leave quickly, or to wait and see what would come next.

Her instincts told her to flee, and wait for backup, but it was halted by the reality that she had no backup here. It was completely up to her to decide what to do next. She wanted nothing more than to fall back into protocol, which made these decisions easy. But there was no protocol, no one to help her. She attempted to peer into the back, where the man disappeared into. She couldn’t see him, and could only hear a faint voice that was unintelligible.

She had only a few seconds to decide. If she stayed, she risked allowing herself to be set into a trap of some kind. What kind, she did not know. The instinct to flee festered in her mind, for the sake of safety. But if she left, and this was actually her way into Oenkev, then she squandered it. Could it be? Would he call up these ‘people’ just like that? Or was that wishful thinking on her end? Was it too much to risk? By the time she made up her mind, there came the waiter from the back, and he had her tea, with a small, white, glass bowl, which she found strange to add to tea. 

“Here you go, ma’am.” he said politely as he set the tea and bowl in front of her.

All the thoughts in Annastaria’s mind on what to do were streamlined at his return. It was too late to retreat now. She looked at the tea, and the strangeness of the bowl that came with it. “Thank you.” she said. Her mind on the weighty decision was almost entirely taken in by the sight of the bowl, which was filled with what appeared to be a white sand. 

“What on Eldreon is this?” she wondered. She did not recognize it at all, and she was afraid to ask. Her research into aenmen customs didn’t tell her enough about this, it seemed. She spent most of her time on the languages, and basics of culture. The complexities of the miniscule things she never looked into enough, not to mention the complexities of the industrial machines they built.

“You’re welcome.” he answered, “Let me know if you need anything else.” and he stepped away to other duties.

Annastaria kept her eyes on him for a moment, both to wonder if she should be wary of him, and also whether he was watching her struggle with this bowl of white sand. Was it some form of food? Perhaps something to poison her? That couldn’t be the case. Firstly, it was too plain–why not pour the poison in the tea already? But more than this, she saw others using it in the inn.

She looked around then, and saw that no one seemed to pay her any real attention, and took the small bowl in her hand, raising it and tilting her head down to sniff it out. It gave a certain sweetness to its smell. It didn’t smell in any way bad, or sour, like that terrible scent from the engine cars outside. But she still wasn’t sure. The only thing left to do was to give it a taste test. She took the spoon in the bowl, and took a few grains of the white sand, on the spoon’s tip, and brought it to her lips, struggling in her mind on whether she should go through with this or not.

The closer she drew it to her mouth, the heavier the spoon seemed to get. Finally, she pushed her tongue out of her mouth just far enough to meet the small sample and tasted it. Her initial preconception of filth made her recoil at it, but once it settled in her mouth, it did not meet the criteria of what her preconception was. It was as sweet as it smelled. It reminded her of honey from home, which the elves used for their own sweetener. Was this the aenmen way of doing it? It made sense; at least, with what little knowledge and experience she had. She set the bowl down and went to her brewed tea and took a sip. But even before the sip,  she could smell the steam and it was not sweet.

While most of the elves liked the unsweetened flavor of tea, Annastaria did not. Perhaps this was the aenman in her that liked the sweetened tea. “Wait a minute.” she thought… “The aenmen have managed to turn honey into a sandy substance?” How they did it, she did not know, but if it meant making this ghastly tea taste much more heavenly, it was worth it. She took the bowl of white sand again, and prepared to pour it into the tea, removing the spoon.

But another problem seemed to be arising as she began. There was no spill point for the white sand, and the more and more she tipped it to the tea, the greater the volume of it was prepared to come out of the bowl at once. Annastaria didn’t know much of the aenman customs of serving drinks, but she knew enough from her own culture that even too much honey could ruin a good cup of tea, and she rescued this cup before it could be destroyed, setting the bowl back down. Surely the aenmen are not that depraved that they would go to this depth, pouring a whole bowl of white sandy honey into a cup of tea. Hence, a better way to do this must have been necessary.

Well now she was in a dilemma. Was she to scoop it in with her hands? Pour it in her mouth and take a drink? Once again, this seemed far too strange and convoluted, even for aenmen standards. A thought then came to her mind. “The spoon.” she thought, looking at the silverware that came with the tea. She always used spoons for soups, and certainly, not knowing what this white sand was, never considered it used for scooping it into tea. “This must be what the spoon is for.”

Come to think of it, she recalled hearing metal spoons cling and clang against cups as she entered the inn. It made much more sense now. She took the spoon, and dipped it into the bowl of white sand, taking from it a spoon full, with excess spilling back into the bowl. She brought the spoon to the cup, trying not to spill excess onto the counter, but failing, and dropped the sand into the cup of tea, and finally stirred it in with the spoon. There she confirmed the reason for the sounds of silverware clanking with glass cups.

Now was the time to test this, and she took another drink. It didn’t seem to make much difference. Perhaps she needed more, and poured more white sand into the cup, neglecting to dry the spoon first, and discovering that this white sand seemed to act like clothing when made wet, darkening to a gray color, and merging with other grains of white sand into a dense, wet substance.

It was strange to her, and some of it stuck to the tea-saturated spoon. She poured two more spoons into the tea, stirred and drank. That was the perfect blend for her. Now this tea was enjoyable. It wasn’t exactly like honey-sweetened tea, but by the gods, it was sweet. But now, she had a bit of a mess on the counter, with drops of tea in between the cup and the bowl of white sand, and in the bowl of sand, with the remaining substance, wet chunks formed. She got the distinct feeling this was not exactly how this was supposed to play out. But nevertheless, she had made for herself a fine cup of tea.

While the cup of tea was one good thing she managed to make in this foreign place, it did not help her get any closer to a way through the Oenian border. The closest she was able to get to any hint at such a possibility was the strange behavior of the waiter, but at this point, Annastaria wasn’t sure if it meant anything. Still, the elvish intelligence was always accurate; there must have been something here to find. Another decision weighed on her. Would she wait here to try and find an opportunity? Or would she move on? The longer she remained in Quote, the more time it would cost her. But if she would take her chances and leave, to try and find her own way through (a thing she was not unfamiliar with doing), it would have its own difficulties. That meant another seventy miles west before she reached another town.

Ten more minutes would pass when the door opened again, with a pair of men stepping inside. Annastaria paid them little attention, listening instead to the radio, which continued to speak of the northern conflict. The other two men at the bar had moved on from the subject of the north, to talking about something to do with weather, and some kind of machines that Annastaria did not recognize. The two men who came in did not intrigue her in any way, as many customers had come and gone since she arrived, until these two sat next to her, on her right. She felt her own personal space disturbed by them, but tried to ignore it.

“Hey Loreese,” said one of them to the waiter, “can I get a coffee?”

“Sure thing, Brener.” answered the waiter, “What about you, Tyler?” he asked the other, who responded with a request for water. Still, Annastaria tried to pay them little attention. But the one who asked for water, who sat on her immediate right, named Tyler seemed interested in her. Annastaria tried not to look at him, but could feel his gaze on her, and see it off her peripherals.

“So,” he said to her, “an elf, I see?”

Annastaria hesitated, but looked at him. “Just… part elf.” she answered.

“Oh. Aenman too? Interesting. I don’t see too many interracial people these days. I suppose it’s got a lot to do with all the politics going on west, with all the racial division stuff.” Annastaria didn’t know what to respond with. She wasn’t familiar with the politics of the Enussian people, and had no idea what he was talking about. The man sensed the awkwardness and went for a handshake, “Sorry if I’m being odd.” he said, “I’m Tyler.”

Annastaria shook back, “Erene.”

“Erene? Nice name. So where’re you from?”

“Ensosten.”

“Ah, the beautiful tropics of the Ensostene coast. That place has some amazing jungles–and mountains.”

Annastaria wasn’t sure what this was about, but somehow, this conversation was awkward, as though it was artificial. He seemed to be trying harder than anyone to push a conversation with her. She didn’t like small talk, and of course, she knew very little about Ensostene, so she had almost nothing to say about it. But then he said something that finally caught her interest,

“It’s too bad that the Oenian border is closed. Ensostene isn’t doing well because of all that crap.”

She looked at him again, but hesitated once more to speak. “Yes,” she said, almost slowly, “it is unfortunate… I was hoping to get across very soon. I am trying to get into the nation of Oenkev.”

“Really?” Tyler responded as the waiter came with his water, “That’ll be quite difficult, if not near impossible.”

Again, Annastaria hesitated. What was going on? She dared to push, “You would not possibly know a way that I can take that may help, would you?”

“Sure. Go around.”

Tyler’s answer was blunt and quick, which Annastaria had taken note of. She remembered certain points of her upbringing, when her teachers would ask her questions, and send interrogative points at her about the scriptures, and creeds, to see how she would answer them. They were meaningful, but rehearsed statements directed at her meant for her to be able to respond to in a certain way. Was the same thing happening here?

“I would,” she said, “but I am on limiting time. I must to get through before the end of tomorrow.”

“Probably should’ve considered that before you left home.”

“It is not that simple, I am afraid.”

Silence followed again. Tyler looked to the one sitting next to him, and Annastaria tried to look at their body language to see what they were doing. The other was unusually quiet, and he seemed to be keeping his eyes moving around the place, as if looking for something, or someone. Annastaria was familiar with this as well. That was what her people called a look out. 

Tyler took a drink from his bottled water. “So,” he said as he wiped excess water from his mouth, “how badly do you want to get through the border?”

Annastaria’s face nearly lit up, and she looked at him. She almost needed him to repeat it. “I will do whatever I need to do.” she said.

Tyler looked once more at the other man for a quick moment, and then back at her. “If you are, then follow me.” he said.

He stepped off his stool, as did the other man, and they started towards the door. Annastaria hesitated once more, considering if she should really follow them. This didn’t seem right, but could she have found the people she needed? They may be taking advantage of her. The aenmen could not be trusted, after all. A young girl walking down the street by herself was likely easy prey for two thugs. But these two didn’t seem like it, and didn’t dress that way. Yet at the same time, she didn’t know what thugs were supposed to look like. If they were, she knew how to handle them anyway. She got off of her stool, took her pack and followed after them.

They led her out of the inn, back into the daylight, and northeast, towards the river for fifteen minutes. The two of them talked casually the entire time, not paying Annastaria much attention. They talked about some type of sports, and chuckled at a few jokes they tossed at each other. It was a very strange fifteen minutes for her. Are these really the men she was looking for? They seemed no different than anyone else.

They walked for another ten minutes, and they were along the outer parts of the small town, just past another one of those engine car shops, which just like the last one, spewed out all sorts of sounds, from machine sounds, to metal clashing, voices yelling, and other things Annastaria did not recognize. Tyler and the other man stopped at a small hill, under a pair of trees that looked east to the river, which was about thirty feet away. The wind breezed through the trees from the north, which cooled the morning sun.

“Alright,” said Brener as he and Tyler flanked Annastaria on both sides, which she took notice of, “Who are you?”

She paused, surprised at the ambushed question. They already asked her this, but this time, it was asked like a direct interrogation. “I already told you my name.” she replied.

“Yeah, I’m aware of that. But I’m interested to know if that’s actually true or not.”

“It is true. I am from Ensostene, and I am moving to Oenkev.”

“For what purpose?”

“I will not go into great detail about that, but it is family.”

“You don’t have family in Ensostene?”

“I do… But I have others further west, so was I told. The other part of me, the aenman, lives there. I am in hope to find them.”

Brener didn’t respond immediately. He looked at Tyler, who remained quiet. This act between them kept Annastaria in the dark, guessing, wondering if both were plotting against her, or if just one was. Tyler seemed like the kinder one, while Brener was distant and suspicious. But just how “kind” was Tyler if he was standing there and letting Brener interrogate her relentlessly like this?

“It seems a little strange that you’re part elvish, and you have a pretty significant elvish accent. Not to mention your broken Durish.” Brener continued, “Do you know elven languages?”

Annastaria glared at him. “Aeyen. An uuk ba’ran ma-eesh kataleusachem.” she spoke. The man didn’t recognize the statement, but it was clear it was not a compliment. 

Tyler couldn’t help but smile, amused at the bold move. He looked at Brener, “I think she likes you, Brener.” he answered.

Brener looked back at her in silence, and Annastaria waited for what he would do. She paused, giving herself time to cool her head. That may not have helped her cause at all. She waited a long moment to see what he would do. But then a smirk came from him. “Pretty clever, kid.” he answered, “But that doesn’t get you out of the woods. So you’re part elvish, you’re from Ensostene, which is close to Sarke, and you can speak elvish. Not to mention your accent’s clearly of elvish origin.”

“There are many elves who are like me that are from Ensostene.” Annastaria argued back, “Do not you know that many of us were raised in aenman customs?”

“A fair point… So tell me then, elf, how old are you?”

Annastaria once again sent an offended glare at him. “Fel gruma budamen.” she replied, with emphasized and lashing syllables. 

Tyler chuckled this time. He couldn’t understand it once more, but he had a feeling that it had something to do with telling Brener to mind his own business. This girl was no pushover, and he was starting to like her.

“If you keep playing these games, elf, this isn’t going to go well for you.” lectured Brener.

“I did not come to play games!” Annastaria threw back, “I came for help. You are the one playing games. I will go and find my own way through the border.”

She turned to walk away, without hesitation this time. Tyler and Brener looked at each other for a moment, as they each hesitated. “Wait!” Tyler called out. She stopped, but didn’t turn around. Tyler walked towards her and continued, “We’re not trying to beat you over the head or anything. We want to help you.” Annastaria turned around to him at that point. “We just need to be careful, is all.” he continued, “You have to understand, our crew helps refugees across the border. But we have to be careful at the same time. We don’t cater to the zealots.”

“I am not among them.” she answered, “I know that I appear great like them in many ways… but I am not of them.” For the first time, Annastaria felt the conviction in her voice, even though she was blatantly lying to him. “They do not allow half-bloods into their clans anyway.” she added. For some reason, this comment came out of a strange sense of contempt, and resentment.

“Well,” Tyler said, offering another hand shake, “I think I believe you, Erene…”

She looked at his hand, and then at him for a moment. Did she have her way through the border? Just like that? She gave one final look at Brener, to see what that jerk was thinking. He didn’t seem to approve nor disapprove. She looked back at Tyler, shook his hand, but said nothing. The handshake said everything anyway. 

“Come on, then.” he said, “We should get ready to move. Brener and I have a ride coming for us soon. It’ll take us to Bodshaw.”

“What happens after that?”

“We prepare to cross the border, of course. A word of warning, though, Erene, we’re heading into the warzone. It’s to the north.”

Annastaria paused. She was planning to avoid the warzone as best she could. “Why are we going to there?” she asked.

“To cross the border, of course. You said you needed the fastest way through, and this is it. We’ll be across the border by tomorrow evening. Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you the whole way; just stick close, do as I say, and we’ll be through in no time.”

Annastaria didn’t like this, but perhaps it was the best option she’d get. She counted herself blessed just to have found this organization so soon. She agreed and followed Tyler and Brener back into town to wait for their ride. It seemed like the way to get by in these parts was always to give in order to gain. That seemed true about the morality of the aenmen, and it seemed true about how their world worked.

The end of morning came in the heart of the city of Levaan, resting within Oenkev on Elderday, the first day of the week, where a sanctuary church worship service was being held, in a brick building somewhere in east downtown Levaan. The head pastor was beginning to finish his sermon; at least, young Bastillina was hoping he was. She sat in a little thirteen-year-old’s casual dress, staring off through the windows to her left, windows which were plain, having nothing worthwhile to see about them, which only bored her more. She could only think about what was outside the windows, which was fresh sunlight and freedom. At least, insofar as her uncle would allow.

Thinking of her uncle made her turn to her right, where he sat. The man’s name was Leno, wearing a light-gray, old suit jacket, patched at the elbows and a stained tie to go with his curly, light-brown “hair top” as her friend Arold joked whenever Leno wasn’t listening.

“Remember, brethren!” Pastor Hennary said, his voice echoing across the room from the pulpit, “God is with you! Everywhere you go, never forget that he is here with you, and with me! No matter what trials you face, he is there! But let us also not forget that the scriptures say that God is watchful over our lives.” Hennary lowered his open arms and bent down somewhat, scanning the room with a finger to continue his preaching, “And he says in his word not to stray! Stray not from the path, little ones! And if we have sinned, what shall we do?” He held his arms out again, welcoming the answer.

“Ask him for forgiveness of our sins, and remain close to his sanctuary!” the congregation said. Leno said it as well, and Bastillina, but she only did it so he wouldn’t get mad at her.

“Go in the peace of God!” Hennary followed with a big smile, “You are dismissed!”

Words Bastillina couldn’t wait to hear, and the next thing she knew she was led out by Leno, who always did well to avoid the ensuing flood of happy and colorful conversations that followed the words of Hennary. Bastillina never engaged with many of them herself. There was always something strange about the bliss and carefree rays of joy streaming out of them all. Not a single person seemed incapable of showing their bright smiles. There was a joke among her older friends–friends that would never come to this place–that the people were all laughing and giddy because the service had finally ended. The true “hallelujah!” began then, they mocked.

Once outside, Leno whipped out a cigarette. “How you doin’, kid?” he asked Bastillina as he lit it.

“Ready to go home.” she said.

Leno blew out smoke before he continued, “Good carol, girl. I’m trynna help you get God in your life. Figured that would make you happier.” Bastillina was silent, looking away to other people from the church talking outside. She didn’t want to admit that this was doing nothing for her. “What’s a matter?” Leno probed further, “You don’t believe, or something? I thought your parents raised you better.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe.” Bastillina answered, afraid to turn her pale blue eyes at him, “I just… I’m not a fan of this place. Pastor Hennary is just boring, Leno.” she complained.

Leno put a finger at her, “Hey… He’s a man of God, he is. He does a lot for this place, and these people, him and his organization.”

Bastillina turned her eyes up and looked beyond the smaller buildings off to the south, and saw the large bell tower of the cathedral that was several blocks away. She always wanted to go up that tower and see what she could see from it. “What about that place?” Bastillina asked, pointing to the bell tower.

Leno looked up at it, using his hand as a sun visor, and paused for a moment. “Are you thick in the head, girl?” he said, looking at her again, “Not a chance! The Carathien Church? Don’t you know that it’s the church of evil? All kinds of wicked teachings come from that place.”

Bastillina went silent at Leno’s scorn. But it was only briefly. The question burned within her, “How? I mean, I’ve been by it a few times. It looks nice.”

“Of course it does! That’s how they get you in there. They always make these enticing places and dress it up real nice, and they even claim to be loyal to God’s scriptures… But kid, the reality is they twist and distort it–all the others do. Hennary teaches us right from the text, just as it plainly appears. You don’t need no big church, or creepy priest guy and all their fancy, mystical, lucepherian-worship nonsense. I mean, don’t the scriptures say that God wants us to worship in spirit? I know Hennary quoted from it a few weeks ago, and as he said, that means God don’t care about all those extra laws and fancy rules the Carathiens put in our way. Hennary keeps it simple and straight.”

Bastillina kept quiet. She wanted to disagree with Leno, but didn’t know how. Nothing he said changed the urge within to just see what was inside. What was hiding behind those old-world doors, and the stain-glass window that arched over them? Every time she walked by the cathedral, it was as though something inside called to her, offering a hand to come in, to safety, like the warm welcome of a loving mother.

The doors were more open than Hennary’s church doors. Unlike the magic, transcendent nature of the cathedral, which stood out in the brick and concrete city of Levaan, Hennary’s church, which she was constantly dragged to, didn’t feel like what a church should feel like at all to her. The outside was mostly ordinary; the only thing that seemed somewhat religious was the entrance, with old-world-styled pillars forming the main door frames and a grand door entrance that arched over the middle twelve feet high.

“Come on.” Leno said, stepping down to the sidewalk with his cigarette, “We’ve gotta go. Just because it’s Elderday don’t mean we ain’t got business to do. I need you on Clerry’s and Nelsman in an hour.”

Bastillina contemplated the words for a moment. “What for?” she asked.

“What do you think? I need you to watch the area.”

“I know that, but… what am I looking for?”

“Anything about the Feldor’s movement. I’ve got word they’ve been active around here and I don’t wanna take any chances. Plus, I can’t be seen out in the streets right now, what with the program and all. Be there in an hour. Stahns will be working today.” Leno handed Bastillina a paper bill, “He can get you some food, and he’ll let you use the phone if you see anything–and whatever you do, none of that mastery mess, yea? You know what happened last time. Until we teach you how to get that stuff in proper order, I don’t wanna see you even lightin’ a spark, or a cigarette for anyone, especially yourself–you got it?”

Bastillina took the bill. “I got it.” 

It was back to the street life for her. At least it was better than listening to Pastor Hennary. It was better than even being in school. But better than both was that at least from one spot on Clerry’s, she could still see that cathedral’s bell tower, and could hear it ring when the clock struck twelve, and it was what she looked at as she sat near the entrance to a pizza place on Clerry’s Street.

“You’re here a little early.” a voice said, drawing her eyes from the thoughts produced by looking at the tower.

Bastillina smiled; it was Arold. “Did my uncle tell you I was coming?” she asked him.

“Nope. Anniston told me.”

Bastillina looked back at the tower, which was only a block away, behind a pair of buildings standing only three stories high. She didn’t want to admit that she came early, just to hear the tower bell at mid-day. “I didn’t have anything else going on.” she answered, “Might as well do something.” She looked towards him, “Why are you out here?”

Arold shrugged, with his lit cigarette in his mouth as he put his pack away. “It’s Elderday.” he said, “Pretty much nothing goin’ on right now… Even this bloody town takes its weekly ‘holy day’ off.”

Bastillina cracked a small smile as her eyes strayed down to the street, seeing a few cars drive by. “Besides,” Arold said, “I always like hanging out with you, Bella. You’re smarter than all the other punk teenagers ‘round here.” He took another puff of his cigarette as Bastillina smiled and continued, “But me? I love Elderday; gives me a chance to sleep in for once… Everyone in this town takes the day off. But they’re just taking the day off, even if they go to church.”

Bastillina couldn’t argue with that. She never understood what church was meant for. She didn’t feel good going; felt worse when she was there and didn’t leave with anything important to know. It was just a whole hour and sometimes an extra thirty minutes of wasted time. Every once in a while, Hennary would go on about the end of the world, which scared her, but it still seemed like a myth, and like everything else he said, far, far away from her. She looked back at the bell tower again, and almost as fast as she did, she began to dwell upon the thoughts of what lay inside, and what could be seen from it. 

“What if we went to that church?” she asked, directing Arold’s eyes to it.

Arold looked at it for a moment, momentarily confused at what she meant. “You mean the cathedral with the bell tower you always talk about climbing?” he asked.

“Maybe.” she answered, blushing somewhat.

Arold smiled, “You always talk about it and never actually do it. Come on, girl, what’s keeping you? I bet you can see parts of the city you never seen before, or even the countryside.”

Bastillina’s mind raced for a rebuttal to his tease, but she couldn’t think of anything.  “I don’t know.” she said, “Guess I just have too much to do.”

“Hmph!” Arold laughed suddenly, “Bullocks! You’re head’s so-far into that stuff and what’s out there, you just can’t admit it. I see you all the time, Bella; while the boys and girls are always talkin’ ’bout what they saw around this corner or that corner, you’re off in your own little world, wonderin’ what was around that mountain over there… Wonderin’ if ‘Master Bastillina’ will ever be a reality.”

Bastillina didn’t respond, and only stared at the bell tower. Part of her didn’t like his words, but another couldn’t be angry; Arold was always good at being a charismatic nag. He always smiled, even with how serious he was about pushing her. He stood off the short wall he was leaning on. “Come on.” he said, “Let’s go do something a little more interesting.”

“What?” Bastillina said, “I can’t leave. Leno will have my head if he finds out I left my post.”

“You won’t be gone long.” he said, walking down the sidewalk, “I just need a little help with somethin’.” Bastillina felt a tug from Arold, as though he was pulling her by the hand, but she stood. Arold turned around once, “Come on!” he insisted, with a hand to signal her towards him. Bastillina shook her head, wanting to smile, but sighing it off instead, and went after him.

“Where ‘re we going?” she asked, walking next to him.

“Starin’ at that bell tower and watching you stress yourself over climbing it brought somethin’ to mind. There’s this bloke a couple blocks down in the Stens. I made a deal with him; I’ll get him some vel if he gets me a certain, and very special ‘beverage’ from the southeast, where he’s from… Ever heard of brenser?”

Bastillina pondered a moment. “Isn’t that, like… beer?”

“Whiskey, kid, whiskey! A lovely one, too. Rare, and made only in the south, in Auserkesh. So anyway, I got him his vel, and he ain’t keeping his end of the bargain.”

Bastillina pondered more, looking away. She tried to think of a good way this could go, and nothing good was coming to mind. “So,” she said, somewhat hesitant to ask, “what ‘re you gonna do?”

Arold smirked, sensing the concern in Bastillina’s voice. “Relax, Bella,” he said, “we ain’t gonna shoot anyone. You really think I’d put a thirteen-year-old kid in that kind of situation?”

Bastillina’s eyes narrowed at him, “I’m not a kid.” she rebuked.

Arold tried not to smile. “Alright, alright.” he said, “Would it be better if I said I wouldn’t dare put a kind, young lady like yourself in that kind of situation?”

Bastillina showed no sign of relenting her stare. “I can handle myself, Arold.” she said.

“I’m sure you can.” he replied, “Still, I ain’t into shooting people or roughin’ ‘em up. I got a different idea.”

Another ten minutes of walking, taking a few turns and crossing two blocks, they came to the place known as the Stens, a part of downtown Levaan near the factories. The Stens were made mostly of low-level apartment complexes, housing most of the factory workers.

“I hate this place.” Bastillina said.

“Not a fan of the working class?” Arold said with a smirk.

Bastillina looked around, seeing bigger trucks carrying various sorts of cargo, or wooden crates, or barrels, and then men with carts carrying the same things around the industrialized area they were in. “Reminds me too much of my dad.” she said. 

Arold’s smile disappeared, and he paused to think. “Sorry to hear about your pops, Bella.” he said, “He was a good man.”

Bastillina paused, wondering if she really believed what Arold said or not. “Guess it was good I didn’t know him very well. He wasn’t around much.”

“I know. He was a hard worker, Bella. Did everything he could to make sure you got through this hell-hole called life okay.”

“Well… here I am. With a bloke for an uncle who makes me watch out for thugs from other bloke thugs.”

Arold’s smile returned. “Oey, now.” he said, “I hope you’re not about to throw little-old me under the bus for being one of them blokes.”

Bastillina looked at him for a moment, and managed a smile. “Not you, Arold.” she said, “You’re different from the others.” Arold chuckled, while Bastillina looked around again. “This whole place is just wrong, though. Look at all of these men… They don’t get a break.”

“Gotta pay the bills, I guess.”

“And what about you? You never have to do this.”

“When I work for Georgy up in East Projects, I don’t gotta do this stuff.”

“My dad worked for years in these factories and it never did anything for him.”

“Not sure what you expect to be done, Bella. What could people like us do? The Industrial Era’s been a big benefit to Enussia. But it’s also got its faults.”

Bastillina paused, waiting for Arold to finish. When no answer came, she looked up at him. “What faults?” she said, “You mean all these thugs and slave labor?”

Arold smiled, “I’m not sure you can call it slave labor. Let’s be honest, these boys get paid to work, slaves don’t… But I’m talking about the rise of corporate Enussia. You know what a corporation is, don’t you?”

Bastillina looked away, running ideas through her mind. Nothing came up, and she shook her head.

“A group of individuals who control a system or business endeavor, sometimes multiple ones, all through capitalistic means… Gone are the days where power resided in kings and the Church, and nobles. Now we’ve got well-dressed businessmen gaining the spotlight. And unfortunately, business is what keeps the world goin’. That’s what your dad did, it’s what your uncle does, and it’s what we’re gonna do.”

Bastillina didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t believe him. There had to be something better than this. There had to be more than just trying to survive, scraping through life in the pits of the Industrial Era, while the ‘corporate bosses’, whoever they were, lived comfortably in big homes, enjoying the best the world had to offer. But what could people like her do?

They stopped at an intersection, surrounded by buildings lined up to one another, made mostly of brick, some rising up to four stories, others to eight. None of them matched one another, as if they were all built individually, with no interest in the other, despite being so close and sometimes even conjoined. It was a sight Bastillina found so distracting, and congested. 

“Here we are.” Arold said, “You ready to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?” Bastillina said, “I still don’t know what’s going on, other than that some guy here owes you a bottle of whiskey. And if my uncle finds out I was here at all, he’s gonna kill me.”

“It’ll be real quick.” Arold said, handing Bastillina something heavy, with metal and wood making its structure. She looked at it, pausing to be sure she knew what she was looking at as she took it in her hand.

“A camera?” she asked, looking at him.

“Yea. You know, these cool things that let you take ‘still photos’ as they’re called. This is a smaller version.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Like I said, I ain’t no gang-banger and I prefer to bend arms in a more subtle way. Plus, Georgy don’t know about this and if he did, I might be in a little trouble, hmph. The guy who owes me owns that restaurant right across the street, Benny’s Diner. I’ll walk up, be normal and nip, while you sneak ’round back, get inside and take a picture of the bresner.”

Bastillina paused again, looking away to think about the idea. Taking pictures of the whiskey? “You want me to take a picture of it?” she asked, with one brow slightly raised, “Why? Why not just grab it and go?”

Arold smiled, “As easy as that is, it’ll provoke an incident I don’t need. Edner may’ve swindled me, but he hasn’t earned that much punishment. If I just have it taken from him by force, he’ll come after me, and I ain’t never gettin’ bresner again. But, if I threaten to show everyone what he’s hidin’, including Georgy, well then I think he’ll have a change of heart, he will.”

“I thought Georgy wasn’t supposed to know about this.”

“Edner don’t need to know that.”

Bastillina pondered again, looking towards the diner. Now the whole thing was coming together. “Alright,” she said, “so how do I get in?”

“The back alley. Nice and cluttered back there, perfect for you to do your thing. Get behind it, get to the third floor, where his office is, and start looking around. It’s probably in a wine case or something.”

Bastillina kept her eyes on the diner, watching people come in and out. There was little doubt this guy, whoever he was, had some kind of connection to the mobs. If Leno found out what she was doing, she would definitely be punished. But she liked Arold; he was a good friend, even if he liked alcohol a little too much.

“Arold!” a voice shouted from across the street. Both Bastillina and Arold turned to it, seeing a chubby man in a grayish button-down, short-sleeve shirt and dark-brown pants calling to them from the diner, waving at Arold with a smile.

“Bugga.” Arold said quietly, staring at the man.

“Who’s that?” Bastillina asked.

“That’s Edner.” Arold raised his head, with a hand on his mouth for amplification, “Aye, mate!” he called back, “Good to see ya!”

“Come on over!” Edner said, “I’ve got some wonderful omelets you need to try!” He paused as he looked at Bastillina for a moment, “Who’s the young ladyl?”

“Her?” Arold said, pointing at Bastillina, “A friend. She’s from Darvell, just up north.”

“You got friends up there? Why didn’t you tell me? I could use some connections to the Jexini markets, you know. Tell her to come on over, and have some of my omelets–on the house!”

“He seems friendly.” Bastillina said quietly, smiling slightly.

“Of course he does.” Arold replied, “He’s a nice guy. That’s why I don’t wanna provoke him. We ain’t enemies, but he’s got a real nag for not keepin’ his end of deals.” He raised his voice again, “Sounds delicious! I’ll be right over! My friend can’t stay, unfortunately.” 

“You sure?” Edner said, “They’re one of a kind! I just got some new spices yesterday, and they make these omelets simply the best!”

“She really needs to go. Maybe next time.” Edner gave another wave, and walked back inside. Arold watched him until he was gone and then turned to Bastillina, “Alright. Well, he saw us, but that’s okay. That means when you’re done, you’ll just have to get straight back to Clerry’s. I’ll keep him downstairs… Go.”

Bastillina hesitated, but started walking, going across the street due north, seeing the back alley to the diner. Arold went with a crowd of people crossing the street west, and then north to the diner. Bastillina stopped, and waited at the building opposite the street to the diner, using the crowds to keep hidden. Arold went inside, meeting Edner, shaking his hand and sharing a quick laugh. Edner’s entire attention was now given to Arold. Bastillina stepped to the sidewalk, looked both ways, and hurried across the street, slipping into the back alley just behind the diner. 

The air became moist, and the street felt slick. The stench of garbage corroded her nostrils, but Bastillina wasn’t unaccustomed to it. She spent her whole life walking by and often through the armpits of the industrial world. She had seen so many billboards and lavish signs talking about the wonder and greatness of living in “the big city”, a name coined to romanticize the industrial cities that had risen in the last decade and a half. What was so lavish about it? Everywhere she went, there were poor people, poor workers, who struggled to survive. Sure, the large buildings, which were giants of the Industrial Era, looked splendid and glorious, but what did it take to make them? Such grand achievements, enjoyed only by a select few.

She stopped in front of a group of trash containers, a couple stuffed with black trash bags, and surrounded by groups of flies. She looked up, seeing a large air conditioning generator attached to the wall between the first floor and the second floor. She hopped on the trash containers, put a foot in the brick frame of the window just above them, and used it to push as she pulled herself up on the air conditioning generator.

Luckily, she was fairly small, and didn’t pose any significant threat to knocking the generator down. And even more fortunate, the window she used was boarded up; no one inside was going to see her. She stood up slowly, looking up to the metal catwalk above her, and reached out, grabbing the edges of the metal catwalk floor, and pulled herself up, grabbing hold of the railing; up and over, until she was safely on the catwalk. She was on the second floor now, and just needed to get to the third.

Steps led her up to the third floor, which she went up quickly, catching her breath from the brief workout of hoisting herself up. She was on the third floor and at a metal door, which flung inward as soon as she reached for the knob, nearly pulling her inside as it did. She nearly gasped as her eyes went wide, and she pulled her weight backwards, almost slamming her back to the brick wall outside the door. Her heart raced, and she held her breath as her eyes fixed on the sound coming from within. A hand reached out, as well as a face, tossing a bag of trash out the door towards a group of trash bins. Once they tossed it, the person went back inside, not even seeing Bastillina.

Even with the door slammed shut, and a mechanism was heard clicking from within, Bastillina stood frozen, breathing heavy but quietly. She slowly unglued herself from the wall, and looked into the door frame, which seemed more sunken into the wall than she originally thought, and she faintly heard voices behind it, muffled, and music playing.

She reached out to grab the knob, hoping it wouldn’t fling open again, without warning. Slowly, she turned it, or at least she tried. It wouldn’t budge–locked! Should’ve expected it. She turned around, looking every which way for a new route, until her eyes fixed on a window next to the end of the catwalk. It was attached to the same building, and the window was half open. That was her way in, but the catwalk didn’t extend to it. She would have to leap. 

Bastillina went quietly to the end of the catwalk, peering down three stories high to stiff, immovable, gray concrete below. One bad move, and the least she’ll have are a pair of broken legs. She set her eyes on the window, and slowly stepped onto the railing, using the brick wall as balance. The window was only a few feet away, and would need only a quick hop. She crouched on her left foot, closest to the wall, and reached out with her right, pushing off her left and landing quietly on the lower brick frame of the window, quickly grabbing hold of the side-frame with her left hand to pull herself in, and be kept from falling out. Her heart raced again as she leaped, but once she was well-planted in the window, a sigh of relief came over her.

She gently crouched inside, looking around to a room filled with boxes and crates, dusty and still. This wasn’t Edner’s office, but it had to be close. The door to the room was open, and the hallway was illuminated with lights; the music and voices were coming from there as well. With cushioned steps, Bastillina crept to the door, and peered slowly out the crack, looking down the narrow hallway. Voices were still heard, but she couldn’t figure out where they were coming from. Should she open the door? And move? If so, where to? She couldn’t just roam around in the hallway; she needed to find a door and go inside. As she pondered her next move, someone walked out from one of the doors, and Bastillina gave out a short gasp as she recoiled back into the cover of the door, but just managed to keep her right eye peeking out to see where they went, which was from one door to the next.

As she scanned the hall, she saw a sign above one. “Benny’s Office” it read. That had to be the place. Or at least somewhere to start, and it was only one door away on the right. She prepared herself to make a quick but quiet dash, and prayed she wouldn’t run right out into someone else coming into the hall. There would be no warning if they did. She held her breath, and counted: One… two… three… and she was off, taking wide steps to reach the room. Locked! And she shook the knob in excitement, too.

“Hello?” a voice said.

Bastillina let out another gasp as her eyes darted down the hall, her ears zeroing on the sound of footsteps coming from one door down on the left, and a shadow emerging from within the frame. A man came out, looking down the hall, and at Benny’s office door. There was no one there, but he knew he heard something. The knob was rattled, shaken profusely. “Oey… Hello?” he said again, walking towards the door. He looked back once, “Danik?” he asked, “You still up here?” No answer. He turned forward again, looking at the knob that he just heard. He gripped it, and gave it a quick turn. It was locked like before. He paused, looking around, down each hallway.

Only one thing left to check. He took a set of keys from his belt, and shuffling through them, he found one, unlocked and opened the door.

“Marlen!” a voice called out to him, startling him slightly. He turned mid-way from inside the door, “What the hell ‘re you doin’?”

The man stuttered, “I was just…”

“Come on,” the man said before Marlen could finish, “That Arold kid’s back.”

“You mean that guy from Georgy’s crew?”

“Yea. Boss wants us to keep an eye on him so he don’t do anythin’ fishy. Come on!”

“Let me lock up here first.”

“Don’t worry about it. The bugger’s downstairs, not up here to steal the bresner, and the boss wants us down there right now. Come on!”

Marlen hesitated again, but went with the other man. Bastillina was back in the room she came from, listening quietly. She peered out again, and all she heard was fading footsteps and music playing from some record player somewhere. She turned to the now opened office door. If there was a God, he was favoring Bastillina today, for whatever reason. She smiled as she stepped out from safety again, still softly moving to the door until she was inside. The room maintained a more victorian look than any of the other rooms, with paintings and of course bookshelves. Bastillina sighed at the sight, but not because there were books. She loved them, but she hated to see them collect so much dust as these were.

Still, she had to look at some, and see what they were about. School may have been boring, but seeing books was not. There were books everywhere. She didn’t know where to begin looking, and there was simply no time to look at them all, but she picked up one containing maps of Eldreon. She skimmed through it, seeing the drawn maps, particularly around Levaan. There were mountains in the south, and west, and plains all around, with forests too.

Gazing upon the illustrations stirred in her mind what they would actually look like, and she brushed a finger across the dry ink, trying to attain more than simply an imprinted image on paper. She had never seen any before, and all she had to resemble them, was paintings, like the ones on the walls in this very room. Mountains, rivers, castles, dragons and oceans–a world outside this one, where congested, dead towers of concrete couldn’t obstruct one’s view of their majesty. Her eyes were drawn to more illustrated landscapes. There was a temple just north of Levaan? She had to go and see it! But how? She had no way of escaping from this place, and Leno? He wasn’t going to let her go either.

Thus, the very thing that gave her joy in this clogged-up place, full of cruel people, gave her dread all the more, reminding her that she was just another street kid, an orphan, no parents, and even if her parents were around, they were trapped by the chains of the Industrial Era. She didn’t care what Arold said earlier, to her, it was slave labor. People forced to work long hours, and still only make just enough to put food on the plate, was slave labor; it didn’t matter what little technicalities Arold conjured up.

Her face sank, as did the book held in her hand. She closed it, and put it back, somewhat remorsefully. It was like setting her dreams on the shelves again, to sit, and collect dust, to come by and dream about every once in a while, and then just put them back, and go back to reality.

Speaking of reality, Bastillina turned to her right, and saw a wine case. Reality indeed came back to her quickly, and she hastened towards it, looking through the glass. There were many normal, as well as strangely designed bottles of alcohol inside. Her eyes skimmed up and down, and she tried not to skim too quickly, fearing she would miss it. Finally, her eyes found it, “Bresner”.

A smile grew on her face. She wouldn’t touch this stuff, but she wanted to help a friend. Bastillina raised the camera, confused for a moment. She had never used one before, but she knew what the lens was, where to point it, and that it was supposed to be adjusted for best quality; she had seen them used many times before. Then there was a little black button towards the top right. 

She pulled the camera up, and adjusted the lens. She didn’t know which direction to turn it, and just fiddled with it until it began to focus, feeling the knob click, click, click, click, as she turned it, and the more crisp the picture looked, the slower the turning, click… click… click…… click. There it was–snap! She got it, but she snapped one more just in case. Now it was time to leave. Caution was all but forgotten now as Bastillina ran out of the door.

“Oey!” a voice snapped, like a gunshot, sending a shock through the girl as her head jerked to the right, whipped by her brown ponytail. It was the man from before who darted after her the moment he spoke. Bastillina dashed off to the door she came from, and shutting it, she drew energy from her hand, and sent a small spark of flame into it, melting the door. The man gripped the knob, and it was like it bit him back. He ripped his hand from it, and his face soured. “Agh!” he shouted as he flicked his hand up and down over and over before looking at it. Burned! He gripped the wrist with his left hand, and looking at the knob, which was melting from the other side, glued shut.

“Oey! Dan!” he shouted, running back down the hall, “Some kid’s up here! There’s a kid up here! Get outside–now!”

Bastillina barely heard the shouts from outside as she hastened down from where she came. She leaped to the catwalk without caution or thought. Her left foot made first contact, and slipped as her hands reached to grip the railing. Her chest slammed against the vertical railings, but her hands clung tightly to it, preventing her from falling. “Agh!” she grunted as a shock rattled her body. That was going to hurt later. As she tried to pull herself up, the door to the outside flew open, and the same man from before came out, his eyes darting at her.

“Stop!” he demanded, and ran towards her. Bastillina’s eyes widened. There was no choice now–she let go and plummeted three stories, crashing into a group of trash cans that fortunately softened her blow as she tumbled off and tumbled into the pavement.

“Agh! Gah!” she let out, grinding her teeth and squinting her eyes. Pain that would have to be cried over later. Bastillina looked up, seeing the man up top calling out her location again, and running back inside. Then a whistle from down the alley. Bastillina looked, and saw Arold standing from where she entered the alley.

“Run!” he shouted quietly, “Meet you back on Clerry’s!” He looked over to his left once, hearing men shouting and ran off in the opposite direction, leaving Bastillina alone. She stood up, and looked back just in time to see the two men, as well as Edner run around the corner, spotting her.

“There she is!” one shouted.

Bastillina bolted, ignoring any and all pain, running off further down the alley. They were faster than her, but she knew that. All she needed to do was zig and zag through the alleys, and find an opening small enough for her, not for them. As she moved through the alley, leaping over any trash-like obstacles, one of the three men barreled through them, catching her by the second. Almost there.

“I’ve got you, you little rat!” he cursed, and he reached out to grab her ponytail, and as quickly as he caught up to her, she disappeared and the next thing he knew, he was face-first into a chain-linked fence; Bastillina had ducked and slid under a hole in it. 

She stood up, looking at him from the other side. “What’s the matter, pudge-face?” she taunted, “Didn’t see the fence?” In a final taunt, she stuck her tongue out in defiance as she backed away and to freedom.

“Dammit!” the man cursed as he slammed his hand into the fence. He turned around to the others, “Go around!” he ordered, “Go! Go!”

But by the time they got there, Bastillina was gone. She ran another two blocks, free from their clawing hands, and with the goods as well. She checked the camera, looking for any damage. None that she could see, despite it accompanying her smashing into metal railing, and then falling three stories into the ground. She turned it around, and with wide eyes, and her tongue sticking out, she snapped a shot of herself to make sure it was still working, and because she was proud of herself. Everything sounded like it was working fine. Now it was time to get back to Clerry’s. All in all, it was a good little exercise.

No way they could’ve followed her this far; Bastillina felt she could finally relax, catch her breath and walk the rest of the way. As the adrenaline wore off, and her breathing relaxed, so did her own thoughts, and her eyes were again raised to the tall buildings. Endless buildings, like giant walls closing her into a small world. It was a giant city, and a small world. Even this little moment of excitement couldn’t get rid of this spectre following her, taunting her that she was nobody, would be nobody, and one day, on one of these exciting jobs, would just end up a dead body in the streets. 

She turned the corner on Clerry’s, and a few steps down, she saw Arold, right where they both left on the corner, smoking a cigarette and waiting. For a moment, the spectre gave way, and she smiled as she drew near to him. He spotted her a few feet away, and smiled with his cigarette in his mouth. 

“That was some trip, huh?” he said, holding his hands out, “You got the pictures, right?”

Bastillina handed him the camera, with a big grin on her face. “Got two for you,” she said, “and one from me, just for you.”

Arold took the camera, with a smirk on his face, looking at her. He examined it for a moment. “Well, damn.” he said, “I really owe you, Bella. Even with how dangerous that was, you got it done. I knew I could count on you.”

“You’re real calm and happy.” Bastillina said, still smiling, “Especially for someone who left me alone out there. What would you do if I didn’t even come back?”

“Pfft!” Arold dismissed in jest, “Come on! I know you, Bella. There’s a reason ole Leno keeps you around. No one navigates these streets like you do… I knew those blokes didn’t stand a chance.”

Bastillina’s smile faded at the mention of Leno. The small moment of joy, seeing Arold again, was already fading away once more. “I wish you wouldn’t mention him.” she said.

“Who? Leno?”

Bastillina didn’t answer, and her eyes drifted away, towards the cathedral again. There it was, still sitting where she last saw it only some twenty or thirty minutes ago.

“What’s a matter, kid?” Arold said, “I can’t even make your day better?”

“It’s not that.” Bastillina said, shrugging, “I just… Have you ever felt like no matter what you did, you were still…” she looked up at him, “Drowning?”

Arold’s smile fell somewhat, and he looked away, pondering the question as he smoked his cigarette. “Can’t say,” he said.

“You never wondered what else was out there? Besides this?”

“I’m sure there’s some interestin’ stuff… But what’s there for me? You know me, this is what I do. This is my home.”

Bastillina didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t understand how he could so easily say that. But her thoughts and reply were drowned out by the echoing clang of the bell tower striking noon, drawing both their eyes to it again, and directing her thoughts to the curiosity of what it was that made Leno so resentful of the Carathien Church, and any other religious movement, the likes of which she knew little about. 

“There’s the bell.” Arold said, “And the church is right over there. The only one stopping you is yourself.”

“And Leno.” Bastillina answered, “If he ever found out I did that, he’d kill me. Especially since I have to be here right now, being a look out.”

“Sure. And do you plan on doing this for the rest of your life? Doing the dirty work of uncle gang-banger?”

Bastillina shrugged, “What else am I supposed to do? He’s the only family I have left, and as messed up as we are, one thing I know for sure, is I can’t just leave my family. And that includes you.”

“We all know just as well as anyone else how willing you are to stick your neck out for people, Bella. That’s another reason why I like you more than the other kids. Seen you beat the snot out of the school kids for pickin’ on your friends. But it’s one thing to stick your neck out, it’s another to just jump in front of a razor that’ll cut your head clean off, and I’m tellin’ ya, girl, that’s where you’re headed.”

For once, Arold’s pep talk was too much. “I don’t get why I’m hearing this from you, of all people. You work for Georgy, remember?”

Arold dropped his now-tiny cigarette to smush it. “Maybe so,” he said, “but it’s a shame that you even know who he is.” 

“What ‘re you getting at, Arold? I just broke into some goon’s diner, helped you get his goods–which he ain’t even supposed to have anyway, so you could keep buying it from him. Now you’re saying I shouldn’t be part of any of it?”

“Not at all. But I figured since you’re here, you might as well.”

That didn’t make any sense to Bastillina. Arold was a good friend, but he still was a street thug, and he was capable of violence. He just wouldn’t show it around her. Even so, he wasn’t beyond using her for his own gain, and it showed with the bresner job. What if she didn’t actually come back? What would he do, then?

Before they could talk further, they heard cheering across the street, and clapping. Their eyes were drawn to the sight, where a crowd of well-dressed youth came from the cathedral, heading across the street to the pizza place. Bastillina recognized several of the kids in the group, both boys and girls, with their hair well done, all bright as the sun, wearing their Elderday special for church, and the occasion she knew too well.

“Take a look at Roland there.” Arold said, pointing at one of the boys in the group, waiting at the crosswalk on the other side, “I know you know him. No way you go to the same school and not know that guy, or Saris, the girl in the blue dress. Saris is goin’ to university to become a lawyer, while Roland is enrolled to begin his training under the Magisterial Order; a master of masters. The best the world has to offer of the masters of magic there.”

“So what?” Bastillina said, sneering at them.

“So? You don’t think you could ever reach that? In little more than two months, they’re out of here, travelling the world, and what’s Bastillina going to be doing in the next few years?”

Bastillina continued to stare with spiteful eyes at them. She hated whenever her full name was mentioned. It only reminded her of how ‘non-Oenkev’ it was, if there were any normal names for Oenians. Like the people in church, seeing these kids smile so bright did not give her any desire to smile. It had the opposite effect, in fact. She knew she should be happy with their bright futures, but she wasn’t. Seeing people find fame and glory only made her more miserable inside. Why? What did they do that she didn’t, that they should have such bright futures and not her?

“I don’t care.” she said.

Her comment only made Arold chuckle more. “Well,” he said, “the days are moving, Bella.” He watched the kids begin crossing the street while she was carried away in a stream of thoughts. 

She didn’t know what to say. All she could do was look at them, whom she always loathed to see. She could only hope they wouldn’t see her, as talking to any of them only reminded her of how well off they were, and how it contrasted with herself. They each had their parents still, and like Arold said, probably had no knowledge or work in the criminal underworld. Why should they be free of such pain and not her? Such a question, and its various forms, never ceased to haunt her. Thoughts like this reminded her about Hennary’s teaching that jealousy is against the scriptures, and God despises jealousy. But why was it so wrong to be angry, or frustrated that rich kids, born into wealth, are thus better off than those like her? What did she ever do to deserve God’s treatment of her like this?

Arold could sense the conversation slipping away, carrying Bastillina away like a raging river, to finally be tossed over the falls of oblivion and despair. He sighed and stood up, “Just remember, Bella.” he said, “The clock’s ticking. That bell tower reminds you at noon every single day.” He bid her farewell for the day with a kind smile, and strode off. 

Bastillina was left alone then, and her eyes once more were drawn to the belltower across the street, where Roldan and the others came from. To her relief, they were too busy laughing and enjoying each other’s positive vibes that they never once paid her any attention, sitting alone on the corner on the side of the pizza place. But looking at the tower, with Arold’s words radiating in her mind, it only made the tower seem even taller than before. Her only comforting thought was thinking about what was outside Levaan, but it was always crushed by the fact that she had no way of finding out.

For the next hour or so, Bastillina was alone on the street, watching people walk by who paid her no real attention. Boredom took her for most of the time, which she attempted to quell by trying to see the sun move steadily from one position to the next. As always, she never could really see it; the next thing she knew, she was distracted by something, and then another, and then the bell tower, and the next thing she knew, the sun had changed the light of the whole city. But it was only just past noon at this point. She saw nothing worth noting the whole time. As always, Leno’s suspicions were just his paranoia running wild. She felt her stomach growl, and the temptation to go off and get something to eat. The pizza place was just to her left, and she figured she could still see well through the windows.

“Bella!” said Breyton, the man working at the counter as she came in, “I was wonderin’ when you would show up!”

Bastillina smiled at him as she approached the counter. “Hello, Breyton!” she greeted back, “And yes, I’m starving!”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place! Will it be the regular?”

“Of course!” she replied.

“Comin’ right up!” the loud Breyton said as he went to the back.

Bastillina’s excitement subsided, and she turned around, looking at the people in the restaurant. Like any Elderday afternoon, it was filled with church-going people having lunch together. She was in a place filled with nice-looking people, but yet felt completely alone. She looked to the window booths, most having been taken, save for one right near the door. That was the best seat she could ask for, and she went and sat down, scanning the area. She had a good look at the intersection and the whole block she was supposed to watch. It was an easy job, and she wondered why she didn’t think of this before.

She found herself daydreaming as she waited for her food, staring out the large window she had. Cars drove by in all directions, and people passed to and fro endlessly, with an occasional airship flying overhead. And of course, there was the cathedral bell tower, standing above the buildings across the street, with its beautiful, ancient-world architectural design, dark colors and statue representing the Council of the Gods, and a central figure of a triangle pointing upward, representing the absolute might of Artheros, the God of gods.

“Everyone!” a voice called out in the restaurant, drawing even Bastillina’s daydreaming eyes to it. It was a man standing on a chair with an announcement, “I would like to call your attention to a remarkable young man in our midst today. His name is Roldan Bendenro, and ladies and gentlemen, he is about to enter the Magisterial Order to become one of their most honored knights in glory!” Applause and whistling with cheers erupted in the restaurant. Bastillina sat silent, watching Roldan take the compliments not even with a hint of blush in his face. He was always known as a popular kid. None of this was intimidating to him at all.

For some reason, watching this scene unfold brought Bastillina back to Arold’s words from earlier. She always felt disdain for moments like these, watching other kids get so much glory and success while she was stuck with this curse she was in. There was nowhere for her to go. Why would the gods, if they are so great, help Roldan, but leave orphaned kids like her behind? She knew she was gifted, she was a master like Roldan, but she was scorned for hers. So much that she often wished it was gone. Her eyes drifted back to looking at the bell tower, and the words of Arold once more. Why did Roldan get to be the successful kid? Why not herself? One thing was for sure, this place disgusted Bastillina. She knew Leno wouldn’t like any of this, but she couldn’t take it anymore.

She stood out of her seat and walked out, ignoring a waiter bringing her her food, and he stopped at the end of the sidewalk. For a moment, she was reminded that she was supposed to be watching this block, not allowed to leave. But did Leno have to know? He didn’t need to know she helped Arold bust into a diner and gain the means to blackmail the owner. He didn’t need to know about this, either.

She started across, past the first three buildings until she stood in front of the cathedral. It was beautiful, with a magnificent, arched, two-door entrance, flanked by two narrow, tall and arched, stain-glass windows. The entrance was a call to enter into the gates of heaven. The bell tower was centered above the door, at least a hundred feet in the air. Bastillina examined the area, and looked to see how many people were still walking around it. It seems the church was fully out by now. One last look at her surroundings, and she went to the side walls that closed the church’s outdoor property off to the public. There was a gate entrance into the back, but it was locked. Not a problem; she had been over that wall several times.

She went farther down the back alley, until she found a tin trash can, filled with garbage, and dragged it to the stone wall of the cathedral parameter wall. Stepping on top, she peered over the wall, and saw to her right, farther into the property, a beautiful garden shaded by luscious trees, and a fountain in the midst of it that had a statue of the Blessed Mother Fedora, a special saint in the Carathien Church. Leno, along with Pastor Hennary, always talked about how disgusting it was that the Carathiens ‘worshiped’ her. Bastillina didn’t understand any of it herself, but she also knew that the elvish scriptures spoke well of Fedora.

That wasn’t important now; she looked left, along the side wall of the cathedral, and saw no one in either direction. She pulled herself up and over the wall, landing on a cold, stone bench, looking around once more to make sure she did not disturb anyone she may have not seen. She began to walk along the cathedral walls, planning her route up. Unlike the bland buildings all around her, with mostly solid, brick walls, this cathedral had so many architectural decorations built within it, giving her an easy way to climb up.

She leaped into the frame of a stained glass window, which went up and arched gloriously at least twenty feet high. The walls were of large brick, but there was a set of lined bricks going horizontal that pushed out from the rest slightly, every four sets up. She used those to climb, heaving and straining upward. Though it was a workout, like she did earlier, the climb was far easier than scaling other buildings. She found rest on a small arch that extended outward from the cathedral’s main structure, and took a moment to catch her breath, looking around. She was at least fifty feet up by now, over the trees in the garden.

She wasn’t there yet, and kept climbing, now feeling a breeze from where she was, reaching the arched roof made of dark blue, stone-like plates. Carefully, she walked along the sloped roof towards the bell tower, until she leaned against it for support. Here she was, at the bell tower. It was larger, and taller than she thought. And the designs etched into the tower walls were something she didn’t know how to describe. She only saw these beautiful designs from afar, and now they were before her to be seen and admired. She brushed a hand across some of them, which were etched horses, horse-riders, dragons, men of myth and legend she did not know, but wanted to know. It was a world she never knew, and needed to know.

The moment of awe had to be put aside, as she began to plot her final ascension. She had it in mind, and began her climb once more, pulling herself up, carefully but anxiously, up another thirty or so feet. Bastillina had to stop and take in the terrifying, yet incredible sight. She could see the entire eastern side of downtown Levaan.

She could see the tops of most of the buildings; only a handful now outgrew the tower. After another two minutes of climbing, the tired Bastillina reached the top, pulling herself inside the bell tower and standing on a wooden platform that had a large hole in the center of it, likely meant to raise and lower the bell tower, as well as ring it; there was a thick rope attached to the bell’s base. It was even larger up close than she ever imagined.

“Woo-hoo!” she cried out, with a glowing smile on her face, hearing her echo ricochet off the buildings. Here she was, high above the entire east-end of Levaan’s downtown. She couldn’t control her breathing, not from the climb, but from something else, something in the wind, something as excited as she was, as though it had been waiting for her all this time, and now here, smothered her in joy. She did it! After all this time, she climbed the tower, and it was even more than she imagined. Arold had to be down there somewhere. If he could only look up and see her now. 

Bastillina turned around, and got a closer look at the bell, which had a rich, iron texture of more designs, things one could hardly see from below. She reached her hand out, and gently brushed against the cold iron, feeling the designs, which contained a myriad of human figures, all dressed as though from the ancient world, in robes, not in modern clothes. She recognized none of them, nor the language written above the figures that wrapped around the top of the bell, but it gripped her thoughts, nonetheless. There was something about it that drew her in, made her want to look more carefully, even though she didn’t know what it was. Who were they? What did they mean? What language was this?

As she gazed at the bell, her eyes caught something in the distant north. It was not more buildings, which she was always used to seeing. It was as though the ground was raised up high, and far enough away to be somewhat hazed in a blue tint. Could it be mountains? It was the mountains! She inhaled, and her smile was rejuvenated. “I never knew they were so close!” she said to herself.

She leaned upon the stone railing within the bell tower, basking in the sight., her mind racing about them, and what it would be like to climb their snowy peaks. They were there, and even at this distance, were so much more real than the paintings she always saw. These were like the mythical titans she remembered reading about, and hearing about from the few times Hennary’s preaching was interesting. They reminded her of how God was described as being greater than the mountains, creating them with just his hand. Such a God! The thought began to stir in her mind then. 

“Now I need to see them.” she thought to herself, “Not from this distance, but to be there, in their midst… What wonders could be lying beyond them?”

“Hey!” a voice echoed through the air, startling Bastillina’s moment of wonder. She almost fell over the railing, with her heart beginning to pound as her eyes scrambled to find a body to the voice, somewhere down below. “You!” the voice cried out again. After that one, she was able to pinpoint it to a priest, or someone dressed in black clothing that must have worked in the cathedral, on the front grounds crying out to her. “Get down from there–now!”

Bastillina pulled herself back into the tower to hide. But it was pointless by now–she had been seen. She panicked and looked left and right, before standing back up to look towards the garden for a way out. “Police!” the man below was heard crying out, “There’s a kid up in the tower!”

Bastillina gasped at the sound, and her search for a way out grew even more desperate now. Another voice was heard calling out to her moments later, commanding her to come down. She had full intention of doing it, but not into their custody; Leno would kill her if that happened. She began to make her way back down, trying to come down the way she came, but hid behind the bell tower so they couldn’t see her. “I don’t see her!” a voice was heard calling out.

“Go around the back!” another said.

Bastillina rushed down as her breathing became harder and harder to control. In her haste, she made a terrible mistake, but one she only realized in the middle of doing it; she leapt off the bell tower wall from too high, striking the sloped roof and began to slide down, with her speed increasing by the second. She held her breath, but forced herself out of paralysis, and gasped as she flew over the side of the roof, still thirty feet up.

As soon as her feet left the edge, time slowed; her heart rate felt like it slowed; a familiar experience of control and power she had felt before once, every time she got into a fight on the streets, or was afraid. What seemed like only a split second reaction, to her was at least five seconds to see the edge of the roof and latch onto it with just her right hand. Bastillina hung and dangled from the edge of the roof as roof plates slid off over her head, sending small grains of dirt or debris into her face, eyes and mouth.

“There she is!” an officer said. Like white blood cells, they converged on her, before she even got to the ground. 

She took a deep breath, and let go of the roof, falling for another second and a half before splashing into the bushes, pricked and sliced by the small but stiff branches within them. It was like trying to escape a giant spider web as she panicked to get out of the bushes before they found her. Finally, she broke free and came to her feet, running to the wall as the police came in. She jumped on top of the stone bench, and used it as a springboard to launch her over the wall. She reached out, grabbed the edge, but felt a hand snap around her ankle, pulling her down.

“Let me go!” she cried out, “I didn’t do nothin’! Agh! Stop! Please!”

The more she resisted, the tighter the officer’s gripped her, though they didn’t make an arrest. She was likely too young to be arrested. Instead, they grabbed her by the arms, and forced her outside. While they weren’t going to arrest her, Bastillina knew they were going to keep her in custody until her parents came to find her. That meant Leno was about to find out what she just did.

Farewell of the Leaf

Annastaria had arrived at home, walking there, instead of riding. A walk was the only thing that calmed her, until she arrived home, two hours later from Ill’karren. Being high priest of their clan, Clorrdes was given the most honorable home in the village, resting on the highest hill, in the midst of beautiful, thick trees that provided shelter from the sun, and exposure to many other possible dangers that may fly overhead.

Annastaria walked quickly through the halls of the home, ignoring the servants of the home. All except for one.

“Are you okay, my lady?” said Quelden to her, noticing Annastaria’s distance. He was especially troubled knowing she walked past him without even making eye contact.

Annastaria hoped to avoid him, but it was impossible to. She stopped at his voice, knowing that if she kept walking, it would only provoke his concern further when all she wanted was to be left alone. She looked at him slowly, and feigned a smile, “I’m fine.” she said.

Queldon’s concern only seemed to grow. “Are you sure, my lady?” he said.

Annastaria gave out a sigh, “No, I guess I’m not.” she confessed, “But I would like to be left alone, please.”

Quelden paused at the brash confession.  “Of course, my lady,” he said, “please let me know if you need anything.” He bowed, and let her continue walking.

“I will.” she said and went to her room.

There, Annastaria closed the door behind her, to be as isolated as she could. Her room was open, and spacial, compared to most in the village. She sat on her bed, glancing around her room, looking first at her desk, where her copy of the elvish scriptures rested, still open to where she left it in Edron. Her wandering eyes drifted just to the right, where another work desk was, this one having her plant and herb mixes on it, just as messy as her study desk. Above her herb workshop desk, she took a moment to look at the vases full of flowers, vases that weren’t supposed to be there. It was a habit she developed out of boredom, and sorrow of destroying such beautiful flowers for the sake of magic and other mixtures. Flowers were lovely, graceful, colorful, intricate and worth preserving, not destroying. It was a personal view, one she knew was unacceptable to the clan.

She sighed at the realization that she recalled yet one more thing that made her unlike everyone else. She didn’t want to think about it anymore, and she looked out the window, where she could see parts of the roofs of the southern part of the clan village below. Just outside was a beautiful garden, and the small series of waterfalls that flowed over steps of rocks down into the river below, flowing from and through their home and into the village itself. It was a better thing to look at; it didn’t constantly remind her of her strangeness to the others, nor the ominous thought of being a prophetic fulfillment, but it didn’t chase away the gnawing thoughts completely. Ellumar would surely return in anger towards her, and she had to prepare for that. But to see her father’s anger and sadness was a different story. She was given only a few more minutes of calm to rest her restless mind when a soft knock came to her door. 

She rolled her eyes, “Who is it?”

Her door slid open and in stepped Quelden, carrying a tray of brewed elven tea. “I thought perhaps you may like some tea, my lady.” he said as he stepped in.

Annastaria managed a smile. “Is that the best you can do to sneak your way into my room to see if I’m well, Quelden?”

“It was worth a try, my lady.”

Annastaria lightly chuckled and allowed him to enter with the tea. He set the tray at the only free spot available on one of her desks, which was only partially available, leaving nearly a third of the tray to stick out from the desk. He poured her a cup, mixing it with honey. “I know you are troubled, my lady.” he said, “And you know that you can talk to me in the absence of your father.”

He approached and handed her the cup, with the tea steaming from it. It smelt of excellent ginger spice from the east, which was always her favorite. No one made it better than Quelden. She looked aimlessly into the tea for a moment, watching the steam rise and the small cyclone made from the stirring slowly dissipate.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake, Quelden.” she confessed. Quelden waited for her to elaborate before he attempted a response. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d get one. “I am to depart on an important quest tomorrow,” she continued.

This news brought intrigue into Quelden’s face as he heard it. “Is that so?” he asked, “How did that occur, if I may ask?”

“Dredok Skies. We’ve learned more about our enemy… The council wishes to investigate the places we have found the information. I’m being sent as one of those agents.”

“And you depart tomorrow? Why so soon?”

Annstaria shrugged, not entirely sure herself. “I suppose they wish to investigate it as soon as they can, before the enemy can escape any trace or connection to it.”

“They allowed you to go?”

“Yes… My father was able to convince them to let me go… I’ve been waiting for such an opportunity as this for so long, Quelden. I’m honored to go.”

Quelden paused, looking out the window for a moment. “What then is the mistake?” he asked.

Annastaria didn’t even want to mention the exact lie itself out of shame. “I lied to my father about… something I did…” she said, “Something I didn’t actually do.” She knew she would have to explain the context of the lie for Quelden to fully understand, and so she told him what had happened, apart from the quest itself. Quelden pondered on it as Annastaria began to explain to him what she felt could be the reason why she let the lie pass. “I don’t know what I should do, Quelden.” she said, “I came home on foot… And I don’t know if that was a good thing to do. Father told me to go home to rest, but… but I don’t know if he meant it.”

“I know your father well,” Quelden finally said, “and if he told you to get rest, he meant it in truth, not in anger… You know he loves you, Anne, and he wants you to be well and healthy, especially for something such as this.” Quelden paused for a moment, preparing to say what was next for Annastaria to hear. “What you must not do,” he began, “is run from this. You have grieved your father, that is true. But I know your tendency to run from the pain, and to try and fix it by earning the forgiveness. You must realize that this is not how you fix this. It is not how the gods work, nor is it how we are to either. Speak to your sister, and speak to your father. If you leave within forty-eight hours, you must be sure not to depart with this in your shadow. Not for your sake, not for your father’s, nor your sister.”

Annastaria paused, her eyes drifting away for a moment as she pondered. “… But what should I say?” she asked, turning her eyes back to Quelden.

Quelden smiled, humored by Annastaria’s silly question. “You must speak to them.” he answered, “An apology is certainly necessary. That should be your primary desire… But don’t forget to be true to them. Talk to them, as you do with anyone you love and care for. Your father may need to think through this, but he loves you regardless, and will be glad to see you.” Annastaria didn’t speak again, thinking about what Quelden was saying. It was such a clear and simple truth, but she found herself struggling with coming to reconciliation with it. She looked out her window, looking into the thick trees beyond, and watching them sway to the cold wind outside. Quelden leaned towards her, with more stress in his speech, “Anne,” he said, drawing her eyes to his, “don’t leave without speaking to them… And I’m not talking about the importance of the quest; I mean about this. This is far more important than your quest.”

Annastaria was quiet. What could she say in response? It was a perfectly reasonable piece of advice. One she needed, and one she just couldn’t figure out why was so hard to take. It was easier to just focus on the quest. Or was it? Now that she thought of it, the quest felt like something as distant as Bokshaer. Far away, and irrelevant.

Queldon could see in her face and wandering eyes, she was still battling with it in her mind. “Would you like some lunch, my lady?” he asked.

Annastaria managed another small smile, looking at him. “That’s probably a good idea. Thank you, Quelden.” Having something to eat and to think upon this was something that was sure to be pleasant, and needed. Quelden made for her his special dish of palent fish, with elven bread that Annastaria loved. He was clearly making the meal to help her any way he could, as he always did. 

But after lunch, Annastaria decided to take time instead to meditate and practice her mastery focus, preparing herself for her afternoon training. She removed the sleeve on her right arm and revealed the tattoo-like designs to herself, pondering on them, and on why she had them at all.

“You are a prime.” she remembered one of her great teachers and mentors say when she was younger, “A master of masters, a goddess among men. What you possess is an ancient blessing, once believed lost for centuries, now with us again by the grace of the gods, and of course, the supreme, Lord and God over all, Artharos. To you they have chosen to be one of the most sacred and ancient guardians of Eldreon’s temples. This can mean nothing less than that the gods are preparing to set us free, and that the return to the Aaerogelden is drawing near.”

It was an encouraging thought: the idea that she could live to see the Aaerogelden. How could she even begin to imagine seeing the grand Temple of Pyrgathos? She hadn’t even seen any of the other, normal temples before. What could the grandest one be like? The only comforting thought she could muster was this: the return of the great elvish kingdom. But for this reality to be, one enemy had to be defeated: the Black Priest.

As the hours passed, Annastaria went from meditating to physical training, and then back to meditation on the ancient scriptures again. Though the idea of seeing the Aaerogelden was invigorating, it didn’t last long. Before she knew it, the dread of facing her father crept in again, as well as the greatness of this quest; not to mention, the idea that she was key to prophetic fulfillment. She denied it for some time, but many of the people began to spread rumors that that was the main reason the high council deemed she was to be protected. There was a growing belief that she was that child. She dwelt upon the passage read in the Scroll of Agonness 13:14-17:

“The word is spoken, the time now comes

An age of dark flames given way by great drums

The mouth of the pit opens to take hold of the dead;

They come from east to west to be judged for the blood they shed

Behold out of the dark comes the Lord of Fire

His curse prevails over the black spire

Terrible in sight and great in might

Upon his shoulder he carries the Child of Light

Though she be favored to the glory of kings of old

She by no power her own can overcome that which he beholds.”

What did this mean? It was like a maze, where you turn corners, left and right, and just as you think you’re half-way there, a wall. Dead end. Maybe it was impossible to know. Did Artharos and the gods intend to confuse their own people? Especially the elves, the greatest of them all?

Quelden appeared again to give Annastaria a kind of pre-dinner meal, which he was accustomed to doing. He seemed to come at a providential moment, right as she struggled, sitting outside in the garden. “I have a meal for you, my lady,” Quelden said as he placed the tray on a table next to Annastaria, “in case you were hungry.”

She smiled, warmed by Quelden’s presence which she never grew tired of. “You always seem to know when to feed me, Quelden.” she said.

“That is very true. But I think the more probable case here is that you have been out here training and meditating for at least five hours. The sun will set very soon, so you must be hungry, as any normal human being, even a prime master elf would be.” Annastaria maintained her smile towards him and took a piece of the baked bread he made for her. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?” he asked.

Annastaria paused for a moment. She did have a heavy thought on her mind that Quelden could help lift. But she wondered what Quelden’s reaction might be; she didn’t want to give any impression that she was taking seriously the rumors that she might be that to whom this passage in scripture she was reading was referring to. But before she could possibly send him away to be left to ponder on it aimlessly and alone, Quelden took a curious glimpse at it, and noticed the passage. “Reading the prophecies of Agonness again, are we?” he asked.

She hummed in a hesitating manner. “Yes.” she admitted. A pause proceeded as Annastaria considered what to say next. But there seemed to be only one way to say it. “I can’t help but think about… the prophesied child.”

Quelden took a few seconds to process the words and how best to reply. “It’s only natural,” he said, catching Annastaria surprised. No dismissal? No quick rebuttal of even pondering the idea?

“It is?” she asked back.

“Of course. Elves of every generation have struggled with this prophecy.”

The conversation seemed to end quickly. Annastaria wanted him to expand more, but he didn’t. “Could it be that…” she pressed, but hesitating, “That I’m the child?”

Quelden gave a little smile. “You have been listening far too much to the other elves, my dear.” he said.

Annastaria recoiled in her mind. His response was the kind she feared, and hated, and why she never raised her concerns to anyone. But it pressed too much on her mind to let it go now. “But,” she said, “you know I’m unique, Quelden. You know I’m a prime.”

“Of course, and does that therefore mean you are what the scriptures call the Phoenix? The child of prophecy? Hardly at all.”

“Are you not even going to consider the possibility?”

“Absolutely. It cannot be ignored, and I would be called a fool if I ignored it. But let us not forget that very often people give into great pressure and temptation to take hold of a belief because of even one great factor, such as what you are. You know well enough of history that such thinking has often led to grave mistakes.” Words of wisdom from Quelden that, as always, made Annastaria pause in silence to reflect. She did know of many important historical events that may have been avoided if certain people did not take one great obvious factor and make that the catalyst to prove the other elements of prophecy. This very prophecy she was struggling with in Agonness was one that was once used to create great devastation over the lands that are now called Enussia.

“How do I determine what this passage means?” she asked.

“That’s not an easy question to answer, I’m afraid.” he replied, “But you remember how you were taught to interpret the prophecies, yes?” Annastaria nodded, but Quelden decided to refresh her memory anyway. “You must not simply look at the pronouns being spoken of, but…” he waited for Annastaria to finish his sentence, to which she replied, “the contextual phrases and sentences that surround the pronouns.”

Quelden nodded and said, “Very good, my lady.”

Annastaria looked down at the scriptures in her lap again to think. As before, the words didn’t glow, didn’t become ethereal. No voice spoke to her, or whispered in the wind. Just black, inked words. Annastaria sighed, “But how does that help me here?” she asked, “It doesn’t make it more sensible.”

Quelden smiled again, “Remember the other rules as well;” he said, “one of them being the rule of chronology. What is the overview of the historical context in which this prophecy must be fulfilled?” He again waited for Annastaria to answer, which was clear. Every elf was to know of this before they were seven. 

“It must take place after the Great Exile, of course.” she answered, “Which was fulfilled in the casting out of Aaerogelden.”

“And what else is to happen?”

“The curse of Corruption. And the rising of the Silver Sword of the West, which is interpreted to be the Omatar and the Age of the Aenmen.”

“Correct.”

“Which seems to leave me back to where I am now. That means this could be fulfilled now. Corruption has come, and the aenman world has arrived.”

“Indeed, but remember one other crucial prophecy we find in Noe 4:7-10. A great darkness was to come from beneath Eldreon and strangle the roots of the Sword of the West. A light then appears from the north. You recall this, do you not?”

“Yes… And the light was to be closely related to the child of prophecy.”

“And from where do you come?

She paused again to think. Quelden once more put her in a perspective she had never considered before. “I guess I come from the west.” she said.

“And that at the very least should give you some consideration regarding this prophecy.”

It was like a new road opened to her, leading to a new land of discovery, and all it took was a few well-placed questions from Quelden. There was still more, however, that she felt was left unsatisfied. Maybe it had to be that way. It still meant that this prophecy remained not even close to being revealed to her. Perhaps her generation was but one more that was to die away before this was realized. That may be something she would have to come to terms with. But another thought interrupted her own thought-process, as her eyes drifted to a large elvish flag, bearing the elvish insignia of the Tree of Aaerogelden. 

It was iconic, especially to the elves of the woods, as it represented the scriptural illustrations of the gods about the covenantal relationship between the divine and mankind. Four stars representing the four races of men, the elves, dwarves, aenmen and kamorjien, with the elvish star center and above the others to signify their role as the chosen mediators of the covenant, now broken due to their sin. 

“Quelden,” she said, looking at him dwelling on the insignia, which reminded the elves of the covenant, “why have the gods kept us out of Aaerogelden for so long? Have we not suffered enough?”

Quelden was silent for a moment. Here was a question even he wasn’t sure of. He looked into her inquisitive, blue eyes and answered, “You have now asked a question that goes deep–far deeper than questions of prophecy, I’m afraid. Where you have gone now is unfortunately left to a divine mystery. I wish I could give you the answer so clearly… But like you, I have found no clear solace for this.”

“Does that concern you?”

“It certainly does. I feel a void in my heart over it… But as many of our forefathers have had to struggle with–and they most certainly struggled with these questions–it’s not a thing that perhaps we are meant to know. Some believe the gods have a fixed day in which they relieve us of this great darkness… Some believe they have no control over it.”

“What do you believe?”

Quelden paused again, knowing that Annastaria’s question was inevitable. He looked out the window, just as she previously was. “I believe,” he began, “that the gods are up there, high and above the white mountains and into the heavens, in a place and vantage point that we do not have. From where we are, we see only this side of the mountain, and these parts of the valleys. But from the peak, you see more, and you can know better and understand more from there. That is where they are… and that is all I can say of the matter.”

Annastaria didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say. She looked out her window to the mountains in the distance that could barely be seen, which were in themselves remarkable mountains. Quelden was probably drawing from them for his analogy, which she thought upon. It was an answer that intrigued her, and caused her to wonder if perhaps there was some perspective that the gods saw that she, down below, could not. But of course, one could climb those mountains, though they be dangerous; and she has climbed them before. As true as the analogy was, greater sight over the land offered no answers to this. But she didn’t want to pry further, feeling as though her desire for real answers might ruin any moment of solace they had here.

Waiting for either her father, or her angered sister was like suffocating; Annastaria had to get out of the house. Across the open Sarke hills to the north, she rode her dark horse. The cold wind blew against her face, even covered by her elven scarf, and the sun was unusually bright this day, despite the cold and the thick clouds over most of the sky. She loved the feel of the wind, especially this cool wind.

“The northern mountains provide us the winds of life,” she remembered her father saying, “as though the gods send their favor upon us, shedding their grace by way of the north. Most certainly, it was from those northern winds that you were carried to me, to bless my house with your beauty and wonder… My little leaf.”

Annastaria recalled the scripture that her father took that statement from, in Elderos 15:7 as she stopped racing across the open hills to look to the mountains in the north, which were about fifteen miles away, stretched as far west to east as one could see, with stripes of sunlight through the ripped clouds glistening off the whitened rocks. The leaf was a symbol of nomadic life, traveling across the valleys, through the woods, the mountains and trees, carried by the wind to where they were to go.

And yet, was it a chance wind? Or were they destined to be where they were? Clorrdes always believed they were destined to travel where they went, and thus the wind was not a chance activity. Chance did not bring the northern winds, and chance did not bring Annastaria to him. She loved that verse, and even considered having it tattooed on her arm, to remember him. He always called her his little leaf, and not simply because she was part of the Order of the Leaf.

But what Lady of the Leaf Order committed such treachery against their father as she did? He could only be angry with her now, and what could that mean? What if he was now sending his little Leaf away, back over the mountains for good?

“Foolish thinking, Anne!” she said, shaming herself, “He allowed me to go on this quest before I told him the truth.” 

Still, she couldn’t shake the thought. Another few seconds she contemplated, and then her horse gave a light neigh, shaking his head. Annastaria smiled at him, patting his side, “Quite a view, right Telzeroth? I wonder what awaits me beyond them.” Telzeroth neighed again, and again, lightly. “I can only hope the gods will guide me, like the wind guided me here… But of course, we can’t control the wind. It goes where it goes, and you can’t see it. So to do the gods work. And this is what we all struggle with… I am certainly struggling with it now.” 

Another few seconds of silence, and then Telzeroth neighed again, and this time, louder, and hopped his front feet up. Annastaria’s smile bloomed even bigger with excitement. “Okay!” she said, “I’m sorry for overthinking everything! Come on! Let’s go to the Glade of Alsharr. I know you love that place as I do.”

It was a fifteen-minute ride to Alsharine, a hill that stood taller than the rest, and had a single large tree on its top, with thick branches stretching up to a hundred feet high, and thirty feet in all directions. A shrine to Kai was built there, but while Kai was the goddess dear to Annastaria’s heart, it wasn’t simply that shrine that she loved to go there for. The winds coming from the north swooped around the south-end of the Alsharine from the west, and back out to the east.

The feather-like meadow grass showed her when the gusts of wind came in, and as she felt the winds of magic move in with, she would stand before the large tree and the shrine, reach out with her magicka, grab the wind, and swoop it around the hill with even greater power, moving her body with its rhythm, spinning around as though dancing with the wind.

She didn’t acquire the name of the Leaf simply from her father, but with her mastery in air manipulation. Telzeroth threw his front feet up in the air, neighing aloud in excitement, and even running with the gusts of wind empowered by Annastaria’s mastery. She laughed as she led him on. His beautiful posture as he ran was mesmerizing, as if he was one with the wind, as Annastaria was one with the wind.

She blew wind through the large tree itself, sending leaves out from it, and catching them in the twirl of the wind she was controlling. From the stream of wind, she pulled some away to create a small twister in front of her, and from that, a twirling sphere of air, and then ice. She even created icicles within the large gusts of wind she was controlling, and watched Telzeroth chase them. Like her, he loved the feel of the cold winds, as though it empowered, and gave life. For once on this strange and uncertain day, Annastaria found a moment of peace. It was greatly needed. Maybe she was spending too much time thinking ahead, and not enough time where she was, here and now. But at some point, she knew she would have to return home, and face her father and sister.

The long day finally came to an end in the home of Clorrdes, but he was nowhere to be found. He likely was caught in many important events, given the situation in Ill’karren. It was not unusual for important events to keep him from home for over a day. The high priests always had their own living quarters in the Ill’karren temple for such matters. Once the sunset reached its final breath, and the dusk began to set in, Annastaria knew that her father was likely not coming home that evening. She had prepared herself for what she would say all day long, despite trying to stay active in preparation for the quest.

But this made the day seem longer, the sunset perpetual, and the weight of her heart more exhausting. Still, the further the sun went over the mountains in the west, the more the weightiness lifted. It lingered, but she had room to breath now. Annastaria knew, as Quelden had assured, that her father would be fine, and forgive her, but she could not accept that simple truth. She did something terrible in his eyes, and she needed to make amends. But how can a mere apology do so? It could not. At least, not in her mind.

Annastaria found herself staring out her room window, once again, watching the sky and the landscape grow darker and darker, and the distant world fading away. A door came open. It wasn’t hers, nor was it any other ordinary door in the house. It was the front door. She turned quickly to the sound, as though glass had fallen and shattered, and she felt her heart again. Was it her father? A surprise homecoming?

She stood up, and her body trembled as she left her room, and went to the front door. She could hear two people arguing below, where the front door was. It was Quelden and Ellumar; Annastaria could tell by the voices echoing through the halls. Ellumar was not pleased, and Quelden was trying to calm her. When Annastaria appeared from the second floor, overlooking the lobby just in front of the main entrance, she drew both Ellumar and Quelden’s silent stares. But the stillness only lasted a moment. 

“You!” Ellumar said, pointing at Annastaria and starting up the stairs towards her, “I was trying to help you. I was trying to help you in getting on the good side of the others. I gave you the kill of the paragott, and you threw it in my face!”

The closer Ellumar came to Annastaria from the stairs, the more she seemed to tower over her. It was like Ellumar was verbally, and presently pushing Annastaria backwards, but she pushed against it. “You didn’t give me the kill, Ellumar.” she fired back, “You killed it, and you lied about it before the most respected men of our tribe. I can’t allow that!”

“It wasn’t a lie. You did have part to play in slaying it.”

“And maybe if you said only that, as you promised you would, I may have let it pass.”

“By the gods, Anne! I’m trying to help you! Does that not mean anything to you?”

“Giving me a false identity doesn’t help me, sister!”

Ellumar brushed a hand at Annastaria, “Oh please! I’m so tired of your self-righteous attitude. You use it as an excuse to get yourself out of so many things. For the gods’ sake, no one takes that credal stuff more serious and ridiculous than you do. Makes me wonder if you really want glory, respect and acceptance in our clan, or if you just want people to feel sorry for you because you’re a half-breed!”

“That is quite enough!” Quelden interrupted, coming up the steps behind Ellumar. It was good he came then; Annastaria’s eyes went wide, and her mind froze at what she just heard come out of her sister’s mouth. A wave of shivers pulsed through her body, containing anger and sadness all at once, queled only by a series of heavy breaths, while staring at her sister. “I believe it is time the two of you young ladies depart from here, and from each other.” Quelden continued, “It has been a long day, no doubt. Go, both of you, and prepare for bed.” 

Both Annastaria and Ellumar sensed a hidden assertion of command from Quelden’s soft voice. He had a strange way of making demands without raising his voice, or hardening his tone. Ellumar had eyes of spears, while Annastaria was still stunned, and her eyes slowly drifted to Ellumar’s left. The words hurt. 

Ellumar maintained her stare for a moment. “Hmph!” she let out, and stormed off.

Annastaria dared not look at her sister walk away. She only listened to the thunders of Ellumar’s feet, which were trained to be quiet and nimble, but when she was angry, all such grace was removed.

Quelden watched Ellumar for a moment, before he turned his eyes to Annastaria. “That goes for you, too, Anne.” he said, again with that soft, but assertive tone. She looked up at him only once, hesitant and did as he said. Whatever peace the sunset gave, was now gone.

Morning arrived in Ill’karren. Annastaria was up, before it was time to get up, sitting on her bed, looking out the window, staring and staring. She heard movement outside her door. Whether it was Quelden, Ellumar, or any of the other servants, she didn’t know. It made no difference. Her eyes drifted to the Scriptures sitting on her desk, still where she left off. They spoke of the elves, of the gods, of Artharos, sin, Corruption, prophecy. What part did she play in it? No matter how she thought, this question never went away. 

She took a deep breath, and stood up with her pack. It was time to go. All throughout the house, no father, and no Ellumar. Only servants who were irrelevant to her by now. Quelden escorted her by horse to Ill’karren, for the final debrief and departure. This was it. She slept little the entire night, and before then, what remedies she used to ease her mind of this quest, and her family’s disapproval was nothing more than worthless memories; they did her no good now.

Where was her father? Was he that angry? He was not even going to see her off? What if she was going all the way to the final debrief just to discover they had pulled it away from her? This grand opportunity to show herself worthy, and not simply a half-breed relic, snatched from her grasp, all because of Ellumar. Or rather, because she let Ellumar do it. Why? Why did she keep her mouth shut then? Maybe she should’ve kept it shut, period. Nothing made sense; her mind was like trying to build a house on shifting sand.

“Have you spoken to your father?” Quelden asked as they rode casually along the road to Ill’karren, “He came home last night, you know.” Annastaria dreaded the inevitable question. She knew he would not be pleased with the answer.

“I spoke to Ellumar.” she replied.

“Yes, I know… I was there. Now what of your father?” 

Annastaria didn’t respond immediately; a clearly bad sign. “I’ll speak to him when we reach Ill’karren.” she said.

“Anne,” Quelden stressed, “you must talk to him.”

“I will, Quelden,” she said back, tested by his nagging, “please, just give me some space. I slept most of the evening anyway; I was just doing what you and father asked of me.”

Quelden paused at her quiet but firm lashing out at him. “I am only trying to help you not make a most regrettable decision.” he said. Annastaria went silent. All she wanted to say was nothing that was good. She only looked ahead to the sun rising in the east.

Another twenty minutes had passed and they were in Ill’karren. Twenty agonizing minutes, and much of it in awkward silence with Quelden, who was normally easy to talk to. Something wasn’t right. Finally, she came into the temple, and approached the chamber hall, ready to enter the room where the meeting almost twenty-four hours earlier had been held. She was to enter alone, which meant leaving Quelden behind for several minutes. She turned to him just before the two-door entrance that stood up to nine feet tall, with well-sculpted elvish architecture and design on wood.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.” she said.

Quelden smiled, finding it strange and somewhat cute that she had to stop to tell him that, as if it was him that was nervous. “You will be fine, my lady.” he said to her.

Annastaria paused for a quick moment, but nodded. She turned to the door, and it felt like a long, hard turn towards it. What was worse, was that she was about to confront her father here. She knew he would be beyond the doors, just like yesterday, to brief her, and then perform the ceremony of departure in secret. There was only one way out of this, and it was forward. Once more, scenarios began to race through her mind about how this would go; so many, that before she even realized it, she was through the doors and into the room.

The door seemed to croak more than normal, and louder as well. When it closed, its echo blew outward, as it seemed to crash or slam shut. Next to the round table that could seat up to twelve people easily, was Innadur once more, dressed in his priestly robes, and accompanied by Uramuun, but her father was nowhere to be found. Annastaria had to scan the room almost three times to make sure of it. 

“Good morning, Annastaria.” said Innadur.

“Good morning, Elder Innadur.” she said back, coming further into the room, still blindsided by not seeing her father.

“I trust you know why you are here.” Innadur said.

“I do, my lord.” She paused then and straightened up to say what was next with as firm a voice as she could, covering her nervousness, “The heretic known as the Black Priest has been discovered, or so we believe. In response, I will investigate Mennix, where we have found possible activity connected to him, and see if I can uncover anything more about his nature and perhaps even his whereabouts.”

Innadur didn’t reply, and only looked over to Uramuun, who was cued to take over. He stepped forward, carrying a pouch that contained three scrolls in it, and removed one of them, setting the pouch on the table and unraveled the scroll he removed. It was a map of all of mid-north Eldreon, which contained of course the Sarke lands that they were in, Enussia to the west, Ensuresha farther west, the Valethorn in the northeast, Unnesseria to the southeast, Aaerogelden, and many other lands in the vast continent they were on. It also contained key roads, and mountain ranges that were to help Annastaria in maintaining her course. 

Uramuun began to point and brief, “You will be brought to the Bermuen Pass here from our escort. Once there, you will cross the Uvienne River, to the small town of Quote on the borders of Mennadesh. Once you reach the river, you will be on your own until you reach Forik.” A servant came with clothing folded, setting it on the table in front of Annastaria. It was not elvish clothing, but casual, aenman. “You must be able to blend into the world you are entering.” Uramuun continued, “You must also be aware that the Valethorn is engaged in shadow wars in northern Mennadesh. The land is being destroyed by war from the inside as well as out. We have word that faction warfare has broken out there. If I were you, I would seek to remain south as much as possible, lest you risk being involved in any way upon those wars.”

“Understand also,” interjected Innadur, “that doing so, while convenient, has consequences of its own. If you proceed to the south-most way, you may avoid war, but you will lose considerable time, coming into Oenkev farther away from Mennix. The longer it takes you to reach Mennix, the less trace of magic and evidence you will find, and you may also miss the rendezvous with the others in Forik. You must be aware of these things, Annastaria… It’s up to you how to go about this; as Uramuun has said, you are on your own once you reach Quote. That means your decisions are your own. You will have no backup, no aid, no message, or signal that you can send to contact for any assistance. Once you cross that river, you will have gone dark.”

“I understand.” Annastaria said, swallowing down the weight of what Innadur was saying. Mostly her anger that all she was getting was a small piece of the whole quest. Her whole life she trained and waited for a moment like this, and when it came, this was all she got. Still, this was not anything like what she was accustomed to, which was normal patrols and quests over the Sarke mountains, tracking intruders, providing reconnaissance for insurgent parties. She was always with fellow elves, even if small squads. In those missions, she was with companions who could aid and assist, who gave her eyes in places she did not have. But here there was no assistance, no backup and she was entering entirely foreign lands, and for how long was utterly uncertain.

“I hope so.” Innadur said as he stepped closer to her, which seemed slow. He stopped just behind and to the left of Uramuun. “Investigate the readings in Mennix.” he said, “Afterwards, proceed to Forik, and await the others… Remember, this is only an intelligence-gathering mission.”

Annastaria pondered on the last words for a moment, recalling everything else she heard in the council. “If I may ask, Elder Innadur,” she began, “what about the other possibility? That we may be able to eliminate the target?”

“I support the action, if the opportunity arrives, and the right people carry it out. But I greatly doubt that it’ll arise. In either case, your task is specifically and only to gather intelligence and report back to Ill’karren. Do you understand?”

Annastaria looked at Uramuun, who remained stoic as always. She turned her eyes to Innadur and straightened up. “I understand, my lord.” she replied, forcing it out.

“Good… If you have any further questions or concerns, now would be the time to speak them.”

Annastaria took a moment to think, and gave ample time to look at both Innadur and Uramuun, who both looked at her with unwavering stares. The stares alone seemed to push out any questions she might have. She couldn’t think of anything to say. “Then,” said Innadur, “it is time to begin your journey. You will be escorted out of Ill’karren once you leave here, with Uramuun, who will take you to the Bermuen Pass. He has graciously offered to do this.”

“Thank you, my lord.” she replied with a nod, looking to Uramuun.

“Annastaria,” Innadur said, taking Annastaria’s attention again, “I am sure I do not need to point out to you where you are going.” Annastaria stood visibly confused by the words. Innadur paused as he looked her in the eyes, “Many speak of your ‘aenman’ side… That it will take hold of you.”

Annastaria nearly gulped, but withheld it with all her strength. “You need not worry, my lord.” she said, “I will not fail.”

“I know you won’t… Remember, the aenmen are traitorous scoundrels, who do not do anything for the sheer good of helping others; everything comes with a price for them. Do not expect to find honor in their midst, and do not grow any kind of attachment to any of them. They only bring misery everywhere they go… Show the people here who you are, and that your aenman side does not define you.”

“I will, my lord. As far as I am concerned, any aenman usefulness will be only to achieve my goal.” She contemplated the aenman she had seen with her own eyes on patrol as she spoke the words with a coldness. There was nothing to feel sympathetic for. She had heard and read of the countless and futile wars the aenman kings had waged against one another all over Enussia, killing each other, deceiving, and pillaging, as well as enslaving elves. They were wicked, and drunken fools, but they may be useful fools for her. Given their propensity towards sin and lust, she ought easily to be able to find usefulness among them.

“Excellent.” replied Innadur, “Never forget that, dear child. Never forget why we are where we are. It is all because of them, and their betrayal of us… You are dismissed, then… Go with the grace of the gods and the Most High, Artharos.”

Annastaria bowed one last time, and departed with Uramuun, first to a place where she could re-dress herself privately, and then to meet with Quelden outside. It seemed far too quick and rushed to leave this way. She was supposed to be set off with a ceremonial blessing, even though it was to be secret. Neither Uramuun, nor Quelden told Annastaria why this was an exception. Instead, the two of them escorted her outside into the cool air, to a sun barely breaking through the clouds in the east. Annastaria was dressed to appear as one of the aenmen, or at the very least, a traveler that was not affiliated with the wood elves. For that, she drew stares from the people around the temple of Ill’karren.

The final briefing was done, and now Uramuun would take Annastaria outside the city and begin the journey west for the next day. As they came to the outside of the city, upon the hills in the west, where one of their memorials rested, Annastaria began to make out a strange figure, almost dark compared to the snow-powdered landscape. And there was not one, but two. She saw clothing from them move in the wind, but the figures stood firm. They were… looking at her. Humans? Elves. She knew who they were, but she took as long as she could in investigation to delay admitting it. It was her father, with Ellumar next to him.

After a certain point, within twenty feet of Clorrdes and Ellumar who stood next to him, Quelden and Uramuun stopped for Annastaria to proceed forth alone to them. Not for a single second did Clorrdes and Ellumar take their eyes off of her. What could they be thinking? They were just like Gennades, or Errnos, without emotion, giving away no sign of either anger, sadness, or empathy. The only other thing that was worth noting was a gray box. This was how the ceremony was to be done? Why? At some point, Annastaria knew she had to stop asking silly questions she already knew the answer to, and step off the horse.

Once her feet were planted on the ground, she rubbed her horse once, took a deep breath as she stared at her father, with an occasional glance at Ellumar, straightened herself, and pushed herself forward towards them. Uramuun and Quelden looked at each other for a moment, to see what the other was thinking. The closer she got, the easier and harder it was for Annastaria to look at Ellumar instead of Clorrdes. At least the clear anger from her sister was gone at this point. That was a plus. But her father? He had more or less the same look as when she last saw him, disappointed, and angry with her. 

Finally, she stood in front of him, and maintained her straight posture, looking ahead, just past Clorrdes, not even blinking to the cold wind. She was firm, stoic, and ready. At least, that’s what she was pushing out. Ellumar saw it in her eyes; all that formality was just a fragile little girl, not a soldier, not a warrior. A little girl who felt like she was being sent away, never to return, for who and what she was, for having no family here, no future destiny. A little girl, who just wanted to fall into the arms of her father, and be warmed by his graceful love, especially now, before she was to depart to whatever awaits her beyond those mountains in the west. But Annastaria wouldn’t do it. She would show no emotion. 

“I am ready to undertake this mission, my lord.” she said to Clorrdes, still looking past him to the mountains, “I would have your grace, and your approval… My heart and mind is ready to be given for the glory of the elves, in the presence of the gods, and the Most High, Artharos.”

A long silence fell. Clorrdes’s mind was thick with thoughts, like the snow storms that cursed the Sarke lands. The persistent sound of the howling wind berated them, almost as if to be singing a song of goodbye. Ellumar had no more anger left for her sister. All she had was sympathy, and eyes that began to swell with cold tears. She was going to say goodbye to her sister, and for how long, she could not know. It was forbidden to know.

Finally, Clorrdes crouched down and placed the gray box on the ground, which was to contain a blessed ornament for the ceremony. What was he doing? One could not simply place these kinds of things on the ground. He rose up again to face his daughter, looking her in the eye, and showing no regard for what he just did. Annastaria didn’t know what to do, but kept her firm stance, fighting now more than ever to not look him in the eyes, but she could see his own eyes staring at her, beckoning her to look back, as though he was telling her that it was okay. And then, a hug, so passionate that it would melt snow and a cold heart. Quelden and Uramuun watched quietly, and a smile grew on Quelden’s face.

“You do not ever, ever need to earn my love.” Clorrdes said, his voice muffled by the fur on the coat Annastaria was wearing. She could hear it, and she could feel it, and it melted all the formality she stiffened herself with. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and accepted his hug, hugging him back as tight as she could. But she still didn’t know what to say, even though she felt like she ought to, as a rushing heat of emotion swelled in her. She opened her closed eyes discovering they were filled with tears, and focused on her sister, who was on the edge of falling apart herself.

The hug separated, and Annastaria snuffled. Clorrdes, with emotion-swollen eyes, looked into Annastaria’s, taking his hand to gently wipe a tear that fell from her face. “I have always been proud of you.” he said to her, “You will always be my little girl… My little Leaf… Always.”

Annastaria’s lip coiled again, and her face swelled with warmth. “I love you, papa.” she managed, with a frail and weak voice. 

Clorrdes managed a smile in his melted face, “And I love you, my little Leaf.”

Annastaria nodded, looking down as she wiped her eyes. Clorrdes gave her a few seconds to compose herself before he reached down and took the box again. Once he came back up, he straightened his posture, and so did Annastaria, responding to the physical sign of preparing the ceremony. She stood straight in her body, preparing for the moment. But while her body was firm, her face remained human, struggling with emotion. Clorrdes began to recite a poem from the scriptures, which was a rite given to anoint their warriors who depart on the most important quests, some of whom never return, and whose names are upon this memorial they stood in. Annastaria listened quietly, but she couldn’t help but mouth the words as he spoke:

“To the east and to the west, I go at my king’s behest

To the north and to the south, Kai’s praises upon my mouth

Over mountains high and canyons deep

Into the darkest castle’s keep

To them that prey upon the weak

I shall go through tides of the ocean that does not sleep

Upon my back are my arrows, on my side is my blade

My bow to strike my enemies, from the dark in which I fade

Rivers will not stop me, oceans will not be too wide

For my gods keep me, their strength do they provide.”

Silence followed, as Clorrdes and Annastaria looked into each other’s eyes. She could almost swear a smile was growing on his face. He opened the box, and Annastaria had to give it at least five seconds to absorb what she was looking at. Her eyes were opened wide; a royal necklace, made of pure silver, with a depiction of Kai, the Goddess of Light. She looked at her father, unable to find the words. He could see the shock in her eyes, and the weight of such a gift. To even place such an artifact on the ground as he did, just to hug her, Annastaria didn’t know what to say.

Ellumar stepped forward as he gracefully retrieved the necklace to take the box. “In this place of witnesses,” Clorrdes said as he went behind Annastaria, who remained standing, looking forward, to put the necklace on her, “I grant you this gift of Illiennen; the Goddess Kai, to be a symbol of she and our people with you wherever you go.” Annastaria remained still as he placed it around her neck. It was cold, and sent a chill through her. She wasn’t sure if it was the cold, or the weight of this moment that caused it.

With the necklace around her neck, Clorrdes came back in front of Annastaria, smiling a warm smile.

Ellumar stepped forward, drawing both Annastaria and Clorrdes’ attention. But Ellumar’s eyes were set on her sister. This time, she was not staring like last night. It was almost as though last night had not even happened. Ellumar smiled, causing Annastaria to smile back, and they hugged, gripping tight as love could grip.

“I’m sorry.” Annastaria said.

“Don’t.” Ellumar said, nearly interrupting. They let go, and looked at each other. “I said dumb things last night.” Ellumar continued, “You’re always my little sister. Nothing comes between that.” Annastaria smiled, and gave a small nod. Ellumar handed her her glove and sleeve, which Annastaria had forgotten. “Don’t forget to take these.” she said, “The aenmen aren’t smart people, they’ll probably see them as nothing more than meaningless tattoos… but you never know what you may run across out there.”

Annastaria looked at the glove and sleeve, and then her sister for a quick moment and took them gladly. The two embraced in a passionate hug once more. “I’ll be back soon.” she said.

“I know you will.” Ellumar said, “I still have to beat you in a game of menki.”

The small joke felt like a great one in this moment, causing the two of them to nearly burst out in laughter. As they let go of each other, Clorrdes felt it was a good moment to remind Annastaria of something important. “You are going into dangerous lands.” he said to her, “I am sure Innadur has already reminded you enough of that. You will be on your own out there, and so you must decide what you will do. But whatever you decide, you cannot expose your prime power to anyone, under any circumstances.” Annastaria nodded. “Remember,” he said, “use the maps you have been given. Use the rising and the setting of the sun–”

“To know east from west.” she said, finishing his statement. The two smiled at each other.

“Very good.” he said, “Keep your eyes open and sharp, and use the mountains for navigation. Remember all your training, and come home soon.”

“I will, father.” she said back. It was like a large weight fell off Annastaria’s back, like the sun had risen a fresh all over again. After a short moment more, she heard multiple hooves thump at a slow pace behind her. She turned to see Uramuun and Quelden, with Quelden guiding Telzeroth. Their approach gave a visual cue that it was time. She gave her final farewell to her father and sister, and saddled her horse to head out west. Though this great burden on her heart was lifted, a new one, the one of her quest, increased in her mind. Clorrdes looked up at her, with Ellumar next to him. She looked back once and then her eyes turned west, to her destination, and her necklace seemed to twinkle when she did, like it was telling her it was time to go.

Clorrdes and Ellumar watched Annastaria as she left, escorted by Uramuun and Quelden as long as they could. She drew smaller and smaller, fading into the snowy haze as she approached the deeper hills that eventually took them to the western mountains. Soon enough, about this time the following day, Annastaria would be going through the Bermuen Pass and in a few more hours, she would be on her own from there.

“Farewell,” said Clorrdes, “my little Leaf.” His voice was only half encouraged. The rest, he wasn’t sure.

For the first twenty minutes of the ride, it was quiet between Annastaria, Quelden and Uramuun. Quelden looked at her, to see if he could understand what might be in her mind at the moment. Certainly, she had many thoughts racing through, but no sure way to rest them anywhere. It seemed as though there was only one thing to speak about. “Talking to your father was not so bad after all, was it?” he said to her.

She tried not to, but couldn’t help smirking at him, “No, I guess not.”

“How do you feel?”

Annastaria didn’t respond immediately. She looked ahead, and was afraid to look back, tempted as she was, for fear that she might be more conflicted to go the more she looked at him. A sigh came through her before she spoke, “I feel as though I can look ahead more clearly now.”

Quelden’s confident smile grew upon hearing those words. “You see?” he said, “Reconciling with your family was much more important. Now that you have, it makes it easier to move forward.”

Those were paradoxical words; comforting in one sense, but also unsure in another. Now Annastaria had to embrace the reality of taking on this mission, which was greater than any she had ever undertaken before. She began to think about her goal, which was to discover more about the Black Priest threat. His existence was unknown, but there was something about him that crept into the hearts and minds of all the elvish people. There was enough about him to confirm that some form of darkness lurked in the shadows, stalking the elves. 

“My heart remains troubled, though.” she said, with her smile disappearing.

“About what, my lady?” Quelden asked.

She looked at him, with another kind of heaviness in her eyes, “The Black Priest… Though my thoughts about my father and sister have been put at peace, now I have to consider the mission itself.”

“At least you are more focused on it now.” Uramuun interjected, blunt as ever.

“What Uramuun means to say of course,” Quelden said, “is that it’s good that you can at least move on from this, in the way it must be done. But what I would say to you right now is to focus on taking things one step at a time.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, let’s first focus on getting to the Bermuen Pass. Then to Quote, and from there, worry about what you will do next. Let each day care for itself, my lady.”

Annastaria smiled at Quelden. His words were comforting, and reminded her about maintaining focus. It was always important for an elf not to get so caught up in the past, but it was also important never to try and see too far into the future. Planning for future events was always a virtue, but depending on future events, as if they were set, was not a good thing. Quelden was right: what she needed right now was to focus on the task at hand. And at least doing that, looking ahead to the great mountains in the west that separated the Sarke from Mennadesh and effectively Aenman territories, put less strain on her mind. Sooner or later, however, she would have to face the reality of tracking the Black Priest threat, and that reality, though tucked away in the back of her mind, never ceased to itch.