Chapter Three: Farewell of the Leaf

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.