The next thing she knew, Annastaria began to slowly awaken from sleep, somewhere during Bastillina’s continuous talking. She looked around, and the little girl was sleeping on her side on the chair she was in. That was good for Annastaria. She might finally have some peace. She looked out the window, seeing that the sun was beginning its descent into the west now, and its light was bouncing off a wall of clouds in the east, shining light into the train car. She must’ve been asleep for at least an hour. Levaan was clearly behind them now, and around them were only open, hilly lands with patches of the hills covered in the pine trees of the mystical Oenkev land, still radiating with its wonder, despite Oenkev’s heavy industrialization. The cities were mechanical, concrete giants. But out here, there was almost no trace of the Industrial Era. 

“We’re approaching Bestolon.” said a train attendant, drawing Annastaria’s eyes.

She rubbed her eyes and whispered back, “How long until we are there?”

“In about ten minutes. We will be stopping for an hour.”

“And Cymroyl?”

“We’re expected to arrive in Cymroyl at 4pm.” Satisfied with this, Annastaria thanked the attendant, who then left her alone. Despite the rest she had, she was still very tired. It seemed as though the nap only made her more sleepy. It was a taxing day, and she wondered if much of her weariness was the quest itself taking the toll she was warned would be had. But it was only the first few days and she was feeling this amount of weight on her conscience. How much more could she take? Her ears were better now, though her left ear continued to sting. The ringing seemed all but gone. Then there was a new burden put upon her that continued to intrude the small bit of peace she had, which was sleeping in the cabin space with her.

The train arrived and stopped at the station in Bestolon, just on time. On the intercom, the conductor was heard saying that the train would be leaving in an hour until it stops in Cymroyl City. The stop woke Bastillina up, and her excitement came quickly after. “Are we here?” she asked, looking around.

Annastaria stood out of her seat, stretching her arms. “Not yet.” she said, “We are in a town called Bestolon, I believe it is. It is a good time to get out of our seats, and freshen our person.”

 Bastillina found Annastaria’s use of words strange, but brushed it off. She followed her out of the train, sticking close like a child to their mother, or older sister. As they stepped off the train into Bestolon, both of them were treated to something they did not expect. 

It was a small town, yet alive. In some strange way, more alive than Levaan. There were countless people in the train station awaiting their own rides to their own destinations to and fro. The sight only further excited Bastillina. It was a town that still retained much of the old-world look and feel, with buildings that were colored with tan walls, brown, triangular-shaped roofs, which were built with brown-colored tiles; brown doors and window frames that complimented the tan colors as well. The streets were mainly built for foot travel, made with gray bricks instead of flat concrete. Occasionally, an engine car was seen, but was not nearly as prevalent as in Levaan. No building rose higher than two stories, allowing one to see beyond them the pine woods outside, and distant mountains to the north. 

Annastaria felt as though she was stepping into the old world itself, recalling all the books she had read on the architecture of those times. She had to admit, though only in her own mind, this place was calling to her. 

“This is beautiful!” said Bastillina in her own excitement, something Annastaria was feeling, but would not admit.

She looked at Bastillina for a second. “I thought that you would not like more city things.” she said.

“Uh–yeah; the huge, clunky metal city of Levaan. This? This is incredible! I remember seeing pictures of the older style buildings. I’ve always wanted to see it!” She took a deep, fresh breath, smelling the pinewood before continuing, “I could totally stay in a place like this.”

“Regretingly, we have only an hour here. Come, we must purchase a few things that you will also need for our travels.”

Bastillina followed curiously, as Annastaria led her through the town. Annastaria resisted the temptation to gaze at the beauty of Bestolon, while Bastillina seemed more than willing to embellish what her eyes coveted. As they walked down the streets, the two saw many families enjoy the bright town together, something that brought a strange sorrow to Bastillina that she tried to ignore. The two were constantly tempted to window shop. Several times Bastillina’s excitement was hooked like a ship’s anchor to something she saw in the windows, be it dresses, clothing, or accessories. Once again, Annastaria resisted, leading Bastillina to a clothing store that did not have the fancy, more formal clothing. The little girl mused through the store merchandise, which seemed to contain mostly outdoor and military-like gear. 

They spent another fifteen minutes in the store, getting Bastillina a proper backpack for their travel. Annastaria hoped to eventually get the girl a proper bath at some point, but that would have to wait until they got a place to stay in Cymroyl. They settled for a dark brown backpack suitable for Bastillina’s shoulders, with adjustable straps. Annastaria had her sized as well, for proper travelling pants that she found in the store. They were a new thing on the market, different from the thick denim pants common since the beginning of the Industrial Era. They contained more pockets, were lighter, and yet remained durable. Annastaria liked them so much, she decided to take a pair for herself. She went for an olive-drab color, fitting for a wood elf, especially one that intended to disappear in the woods if necessary, while they only had black for Bastillina’s size.

With some time to spare, Bastillina did some more browsing of the different items for tourists and travelers in the market, while Annastaria found herself browsing the clothing in the windows of the stores along the main street, not far from where Bastillina was. Annastaria was never much for girl things; she didn’t care much for dresses, or the latest in female fashion. Style had never been something she was into. At least, she thought. Here she couldn’t help but feel drawn to the dresses. The colors captivated her, and their designs and material were like a warm embrace. She couldn’t help imagining herself wearing some. She smiled a little at seeing many of the shoes, boots and jackets on sale in many of these stores. They were… adorable. There was a magical feeling radiating from them that caught her in their spell. As she gazed and couldn’t help wondering, she heard Bastillina next to her, “Pretty, aren’t they?”

Annastaria felt as though she was snapped back into reality. “They are nice.” she said, downplaying how she truly felt.

Bastillina looked at Annastaria for a moment, contemplating whether to say what she wanted to say. “You should try some on.” she finally said.

Annastaria recoiled at the words. “That is unnecessary, and foolish.” she answered.

Bastillina nearly chuckled, “It’s foolish not to. Come on, I bet you’d dazzle in that red one right there.”

Annastaria could hardly believe, let alone find words to the fact that Bastillina pointed out the dress she happened to be gazing at. The dress was simple, but yet beautiful, with shoulder sleeves and a V-designed collar that didn’t show too much. “We do not have time.” she said, “And we do not have the money, anyway.”

That was that, and there was nothing else to say. She forced herself to walk away, and felt the need to pull herself away, and turning around, she crashed into something, or rather someone. She gasped as the man nearly tumbled over. Annastaria grabbed him and kept him up, but the buckets of water he was carrying could not be saved. They spilled all over the wooden boardwalk. “Gods!” she gasped, “I am so sorry! Are-are you okay?”

“Oh rats!” the man said as he beheld his water-soaked pants, “That was an unpleasant surprise.”

“I am so greatly sorry, sir! I did not see you.” Annastaria was embarrassed as much as sorry. Embarrassed that she, an elite reconnaissance elf and a master, made such a foolish mistake in front of Bastillina. Even though the little girl didn’t know this about her, it didn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No?” replied the old man, “It must’ve taken quite a lot of ‘unseeing’ not to see me walking by.”

Annastaria didn’t want to admit that she was still spellbound by the dresses, even to a stranger. She fumbled herself for a proper answer, “I… I must have lost track of where I was going.”

“Oh well,” the man said, preparing to pick up the emptied buckets, “there’s not much left to do but… go back and get some more water.” The man then got a good look at Annastaria, and he paused. “Oh! A young elvish girl…” He seemed curiously intrigued by her, noting her ears, “We don’t get too many of you these days; what with all the industrialization and so forth… Well, I am terribly sorry for our unpleasant meeting. I really must be going now.”

Annastaria’s worry did not dim, but it did change from a concern for his forgiveness to concern for his well-being. Was he carrying those gallons of water all by himself? From where? And to where? She didn’t know what to say at first. She also noticed that the man’s accent was Ensurresh, the accent of the upper-class of Ensuresha.

“Don’t worry.” Bastillina said to the man, “She’s a little clumsy. Runs into things all the time. Pretty weird, for an elf, right?”

Annastaria was offended, and wanted to verbally backhand the girl, but she bit her tongue. Bastillina’s words caused the man to raise an eyebrow at Annastaria. “She is being foolish.” Annastaria replied, “And I am only half-elvish, anyway.” She couldn’t believe she even engaged Bastillina’s silly comment, and only wanted to focus back on the older man. “Are you… going to be okay?” she asked him.

“Well, all things considered, I think I’m alright.” the man answered, “I’ll have to go back and… fetch some more water, albeit a little heavier with the drenched trousers and all. Could be far worse, I suppose.” He began taking the buckets back from wherever he came, strangely content after what just happened. Annastaria couldn’t simply let him go, and be forced to carry another set of heavy buckets all because she wasn’t paying attention. 

“Wait!” Annastaria insisted as she went after him, “Let me help.” Bastillina was caught off-guard, but had no choice but to follow Annastaria.

“Oh no,” the man objected, “I cannot ask you to do that.”

“I insist, sir, please–” 

“–I understand what you’re trying to do, child, and it’s very gracious of you, but I cannot. It’s bad luck to incline a duty upon an elf, at least according to the Vilhar scrolls.” he chuckled lightly, “At any rate, I most certainly cannot insist upon a young lady doing this work of a man, even if she were at fault.”

“I am not just some young lady, sir. Please, let me help. I can lift a few things.”

The man stopped suddenly, and looked Annastaria in the eyes, lowering his face so that he could see her without his glasses that rested just slightly below his line of sight. Annastaria stopped as well, looking back into his eyes. He hummed as he began to think upon her words. Annastaria had never had someone so close to her face before, and didn’t know what to do. Bastillina was quietly amused by it. 

“Let’s see then,” the man said. 

Annastaria hesitated, her eyes darting to Bastillina for a moment. “Umm,” she said, “I am sorry?” Bastillina grew a smile. Seeing Annastaria so uncomfortable was strangely humorous.

“Lots of girls say they can do some lifting. Even boys do. Around these parts, we don’t go on someone’s words alone… Well come on, let me see the muscle in those arms of yours.” The moment turned even more awkward for Annastaria. It was one thing for a stranger to pay little regard for personal space, now he was asking to see her muscles. 

She looked at Bastillina again, who was humorously waiting for her to respond. It only added more pressure to Annastaria. She wanted him to know she could help; if this was how, then so be it. She removed her outer coat, revealing the glove and sleeve on her right arm that Bastillina quietly noted. The older man did as well, but pretended not to. Annastaria raised her right arm and flexed her bicep muscle. The elder man visually examined it, and Annastaria’s stomach continued to feel like it was turning. At least he wasn’t touching her. The man hummed again and said, “Oh yes, very impressive, hmph! Okay, it’ll do.” he said, quickly taking a bucket and almost pushing it into Annastaria’s chest without warning. She was startled as she took hold of the bucket. “Follow me.” the man said.

Annastaria and Bastillina looked at each other for a moment. They weren’t sure what to do, but they felt compelled to follow this man. At least Annastaria did; she told him she would help, and so she would. But as Annastaria began to walk, Bastillina interjected with a whisper to her, “Are we sure about this?”

“It does not matter what we are sure of.” Annastaria replied, “We must help him.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Annastaria could almost hiss at Bastillina’s rudeness. “I suppose I should not expect you to have manners. Do you not know how disrespectful it is to do harm to your elders, and worst of all, not seek reconciliation with them?”

“It really sucks that that happened, but we’re kind of on a time limit, remember? How long is this gonna take?”

“It should not be long. Now be silent, and that is a command.”

Bastillina glared at Annastaria, but remembered her oath to her and kept quiet in childish contempt. Annastaria grew worried about the time as well. But she owed it to this man, and however awkward this was, or inconvenient, it was a good way to pay back what wrong she did. Bastillina meanwhile, anxiously counted down the minutes that they lost. The two followed the man back, turning right off the main road and down another road that was leading towards a more open area of the town, further away from the trainstation. Losing sight of it made Bastillina’s sinking feeling drop, like an elevator slowing going down suddenly losing its support cables.

They were approaching what was a small market square, and Annastaria continued to be caught up in the view. It was like she traveled to a different time. She had to fight the urge to once more become spellbound by the trees and buildings. Maybe she really was spellbound again, as she suddenly realized the man had been trying to speak to her. She shook herself out of the daydream. 

“I am sorry.” she apologized, yet again, “What did you say?”

“I said,” the man repeated, “where are you from?”

Annastaria had to think, and think quickly. She wasn’t keen on revealing too much about her past, and she was not about to reveal to him where she was from. “I am from the east.”

“The east? Well, that’s news. At least I know you’re not from the west.” the man jested, yet with a humble-like chuckle. Bastillina also was humored by the joke.

Annastaria had a compellingness within herself to tell him more. She wasn’t sure why, but she found herself having a sense of inferiority and pity towards him. “I wish I could say more.” she said, almost with a shameful tone. 

“You are prevented?” he said as he looked briefly at her, intrigued by her statement. 

“It is… not easy to explain.”

“Ah… a boy then?”

Annastaria winced for a quick moment, “What? No–no, it is not that at all.” She looked to see if Bastillina was chuckling, and as she half expected, the girl was.

“So then family issues?” 

Annastaria couldn’t argue with that one, and once again, she found herself wondering why. “You could probably say that.” she said, looking away.

“Ah… running from, or something else?” Annastaria paused again, and stuttered a hum, trying once again to find the right, but careful words. “Oh come, dear,” the man interrupted, “if you cannot say, then you cannot say. I’m just striking conversation is all.”

“I am sorry… it is just complicated.” 

The man noted her discomfort again, but he didn’t press the matter. Bastillina noticed it as well, and her smile disappeared. Annastaria didn’t appear to be hiding any mischief. And for the first time, at least that Bastillina could remember, she had a heartfelt response. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to be like this. With someone like Tyler, it was easy to lie. Now it was not.

The conversation ended, leaving Annastaria to contemplate the reason she undertook the quest, trying to convince herself she was doing this for her people. Why was it so hard to believe it? Thinking about her internal doubts was uncomfortable to her. She rather wanted to think about this man she was now helping. “If it is okay, sir,” she began, “I am very interested in knowing where you are from.”

The man smiled and said, “Oh? And why may that be?”

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, sir, but your accent… it is Ensuresh, is it not?”

The old man paused, looking at her, almost with a wink in his eye. “Quite observant.” he said, “You know a thing or two about western Enussia, I see. What else do you know?” 

Annastaria looked away, thinking for a moment to jog her memory and education. “Well…” she began, “if it is true that you are Ensuresh, and educated from there, and your demeanor suggests that you are… that means you can speak Ishemuur Elvish and Ontush, the language of the Omatar.”

“That would be a good guess.”

“Can you?”

The man smiled again, “I know a thing or two, yes.”

Annastaria could hardly believe it, while Bastillina couldn’t understand it. “That is… amazing, sir.” said Annastaria, “I have always loved the Ishemuur culture, and the Omatar, among others. Few people can still speak Ontush… and few endeavor to understand the ancient things of the Ishemuur. I wish to learn one day.”

“Yes, well… They say only the highest IQs can learn them.”

“Is that really true?” 

The man giggled, “Unlikely. It just makes me feel better about myself.”

Another ten minutes passed, and they came to a place just outside the village on the river. It was even more mystical than what they had already seen, with impressive pine trees that soared into the sky; luscious, green, and with powerful trunks, like giant pillars forged from nature itself. But Annastaria beheld these ones in particular as they were beltok pines, the trees that fairies inhabit, which come out especially during the year-end seasons and springtime nights. It was a shame she was only there during the day. Luckily, Oenkev had many of these pines throughout, and indeed, these pines existed all over the north. 

“These trees are beautiful.” Annastaria said, gazing up at them with Bastillina, “You live here?”

“Well, not here, but in this village, yes.” the man said, “Come on now, we haven’t much time to enjoy the scenery… That may come later.”

They walked another one-hundred feet upstream, and finally to a watermill, made just like the old ones, with a filtration system as well. The mill was sheltered by two impressive pine trees that provided healthy shade to the whole area. 

They came to the wooden staircase that went up about ten steps to a boardwalk patio that had metal railings rather than wood to keep those on it from falling. Annastaria saw some tables on the patio; tables for eating, and some tables meant for craft and work. They made their way up the steps, and onto the wooden patio. The sound of the water moving through the watermill, and the creek of the wheel turning were a tranquil sound for Annastaria. Once they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by a middle-aged woman in an old-fashioned dress, accented with blue and white colors. Her blonde hair was tied loosely behind her head in a bun. 

“Istvan!” she said with a bright smile, “What happened? Did you take a tumble in a fight with the water buckets again?”

The man chuckled at the woman’s joke, “Hmph! I got a tad bit thirsty on the way back to the shop, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe you’re getting too old for this kind of work.”

“You may be right.” the man said, who’s name the woman identified as Istvan.  He stepped aside to introduce Annastaria, “Actually, this charming young lady is the reason I’m back.” 

The woman looked at Annastaria and Bastillina. “Oh?” she said with a welcoming and curious tone, “And who might you be?”

“Actually,” Istvan noted, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” 

Annastaria bowed her head in respect before she answered, “My name is Erene.” Then she turned to Bastillina, “And this is my little sister, Nia.” Bastillina was not expecting that alibi from Annastaria, and it put her off for a moment, but she remained silent, offering only a quick, half-hearted smile. Annastaria was impressed with their mannerisms. They were much more friendly than she had experienced before from aenmen. 

“Erene?” the woman replied, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you! And you’re elvish?”

“Part elvish.” said Annastaria.

“Fascinating! We don’t get a lot of you here these days. Ever since the EU came in and began ‘industrializing’ Oenkev… well the elves keep to their forests now. At least the wood elves do, and you don’t seem like one of the high elves. Hmph! Thank the gods for that.”

Annastaria couldn’t argue with that one. The high elves were a self-consciously elite class of people. If aristocracy was a major problem in society, it was because of those bloody high elves. Annastaria’s own clan had many serious conflicts, even lethal encounters with their kind. “Well, that’s a relief.” Istvan said, “Those high elves really think they are ‘high’ above all the rest of society.” 

Annastaria found that comment interesting and unexpected, considering the most likely background of Istvan, but didn’t say anything. She decided to change the subject again with a question, “So why are we here?”

“For more water, of course.”

“In this place?”

“Yes, my dear. Madam Georgine here uses this mill as a water purifying facility as well. They do great work for the village.”

“I’ll take those from you.” Georgine said as she went to take the buckets off Istvan and Annastaria’s hands. They handed the metal buckets to Georgine and she stepped away. “Wait here.” she said as she took her exit. 

“Nia,” Annastaria said, seeing an opportunity to talk to Istvan more privately, “Go help the lady with the buckets.”

“What?” Bastillina protested, “You’re the one who caused all of this. Why do I have to help?”

“Because I said to do it.” Annastaria said, with a firm voice ready to berate the girl, “I am sure she could use some help.” As much as it was to get her time to talk to Istvan more privately, it was also an opportunity to teach Bastillina some proper manners in helping her elders. The girl seemed to lack such traits. Bastillina pouted again, and sighed, but did as she was told, walking after Georgine.

Annastaria and Istvan were left alone. Istvan watched their interaction silently, observantly until Bastillina was out of sight. “A spirited girl you have there.” he said.

“You think she is?” Annastaria said back, “I see nothing but disorder, disunity and disobedience.”

“Yes… As I said.” he said with a smile.

It went silent, and awkward. Annastaria didn’t know if she should say something or not. She wanted to take this opportunity to inquire further, but it felt strange to just blast him with questions. Before she could decide, Istvan spoke, “Well… now I suppose we wait. I’m going to take a moment to rest my blasted knees. They’re probably divided into more pieces than they ought to be.” he joked as he went to take a seat at one of the wooden benches. He sat down and gave out a loud exhale as he relieved the pressure of all the walking he was doing. Annastaria became concerned for him all over again. She was also itching to know more about his history. He was the last kind of man she expected to find in a place like this. 

The Ensuresh were upper-class, elite members of the north-western nations of Enussia. They essentially founded the entire nation-structure of the Enussian kingdoms, what the west came to know as feudalism, monarchism, and they even helped develop the Magisterial Order, which headed the religious leadership throughout Enussia under the Patrox, the head of the Magisterium, and the Grand Council beneath him. From the Magisterium came the reform after the Age of the Elves, a new order that united all masters under the Magisterial Order, to the glory of the gods, in maintaining peace in the world in the light of the Corruption. Though the culture and ideologies have dramatically changed, they’ve changed at the dynamic philosophies of the intellectual influence of the Ensuresh institution. They were and are brilliant men of the world. What was one doing in a town like Bestolon?

Annastaria decided to try and probe more about this man. “So,” she began as she walked towards him, “are you really from the Ensuresh institution?” 

Istvan paused for a moment. His hesitation to answer was very peculiar to her. “I have a question for you.” he said. Annastaria was somewhat put off, as she was first to ask a question. But she felt an impulse to quietly wait and answer him. “Where are you really from?” he asked. His tone implied that he saw through Annastaria’s attempt earlier to deflect the question

“Farther east.” she said, “Near the borders of the Vale, in the Sarke lands.”

“Interesting… Clearly you are being secretive.” Annastaria had no choice. She had great sympathy and respect for Istvan, but she was not about to compromise her loyalty to her people. “I understand,” said Istvan, “But your answer is truly interesting to me. I know there is a tribe of elves in those parts.” Annastaria swallowed, but he wasn’t finished, “Your own accent is indicative that you’re not simply a lost elvish girl looking for… whatever it is you’re looking for.”

“How would you know if I am looking for something?”

“Everyone is looking for something, girl.” Istvan said with a strong, but calm assertion. It left Annastaria silent. Istvan continued, “You must be part of an elvish clan.” The closer he got to the truth, the more uncomfortable Annastaria became. She began to feel the need to get out of here. “Don’t worry,” Istvan said, “Your secret is safe with me, if you promise not to hurt Mrs. Georgine and I.” 

She could indeed make sure he never talked to anyone. But that was not something she intended to do. “I am not going to hurt you.” she said.

“Wonderful!” Istvan said with a jolly voice.

Even though she was not going to hurt Istvan, Annastaria knew she had to be careful. She was on an important mission, and he knew too much already. But this made her curious, and she was tempted to ask him what he knew about the object of her quest. The Ensurresh were men of great knowledge. Could this man have knowledge useful to her quest? She had no reason to think he did, but she also knew who the Ensurresh were, and finding one like this was a rare opportunity. “I am afraid I cannot speak of it more.” she said.

Istvan conceded her point. But her answer only confirmed to him that she was part of a tribe, and likely an agent of some kind. If so, then she was on a very important mission, which made Istvan curious, but not to the point that he was foolish enough to press the matter. It was clear he was not dealing with a straying elf, but likely a trained assassin. Still, she behaved not as such. Perhaps it was the aenman side of her that was causing this. Either way, there was a grief in her soul that he never expected to see come from an elvish special agent. 

“I must say, Erene,” he finally spoke, “assuming that is your name–you are the most interesting person who’s come through here in recent times. It is difficult for me to think of another.”

“I think that you are the most interesting person living in this village. You and your kind are what shaped Enussian society for ages. You are the most incredible minds the world has to give. My people taught me much, but… little in comparison to what you people know. Most of what I know of the west that I now travel in is because of the many of books my people have collected from the fathers of your institution.” Istvan gave a soft smile, taking Annastaria’s words with humility. She continued, “It would be an honor, sir, if you had something you could give me to help me in going forward.”

“Such as?” he asked. Annastaria hesitated. What she was contemplating doing would be a grave risk. She had told herself she wouldn’t give any information regarding her quest to anyone. But she had just met, out in nowhere like this, an Ensurresh scholar. This was an opportunity she knew even many in her own clan would not want to pass up. What could he know? She made her decision, and mentally took a deep breath. She looked him in the eye, and Istvan prepared himself, but yet maintained a focused stare back.

“I am searching for someone.” she said. Istvan was sure of that at least. But who was it that she was looking for, was the real question. “What do you know of the Black Priest?” she asked after another hesitant pause. 

Istvan responded with his own pause, silently staring back at her.  “And why would a young elvish agent be seeking such a person as that?” he asked.

“He attacked our people a few years ago, and has been made a danger to the world and to us. We have been waiting for him to reappear so that we can track him and remove him… That is the quest I am on.”

Istvan chuckled lightly. “Well, I am relieved you are at least not trying to assassinate anyone important here in Oenkev or elsewhere.”

“I am merely passing through Oenkev. I mean neither you, nor your people harm. He is who we are seeking.”

“I see… And what then does that make of the little girl you have with you? She is clearly not your sister then.”

Annastaria was set back, as if her progression of thought forward was parried and forced to regroup around the Bastillina problem. Istvan was no fool; he was connecting dots faster than she could explain herself. “I saved her.” Annastaria said, “In Levaan… She has no family, no one to turn to.”

Istvan didn’t show it, but he was impressed with her testimony. He wondered if it was even true. Wood elves, especially their special agents, never showed this kind of empathy before. “Is that so?” he said, “I must say, I’m finding it difficult to believe… Then again, what other explanation is there for you to have this girl with you?”

His inquiry caused Annastaria to think about Bastillina more deeply, and what compelled her to take the little girl in. “To speak truthfully,” she said, “I do not know why I did take her with me. It is forbidden to do so.”

“And yet, here she is.”

Annastaria looked to the ground just past him, trying to grasp some form of understanding for why she did this. Nothing came to mind. Istvan saw the confoundment in her eyes, along with sadness, and even some form of despondency. “Do you know,” Istvan said, “that in modern psychology, leading scholars and doctors believe that the human mind acts based upon internal, built-in preconceptions?”

Annastaria paused, trying to piece together the assertion itself. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“It’s quite simple, really. Say two kinds of food are presented before you. One is your favorite, and the other is your least. Which would you pick?”

Annastaria pondered a moment, wondering if it was a trick question. “My favorite, of course.” she replied, looking at him.

“Indeed. It’s not for no purpose you do, it’s because it is your favorite. Why? That’s the question. Why do some do certain things while others do different? Some make choices that others do not. Doctors in the field are beginning to theorize that these choices depend on something within us that pushes us towards these choices. Perhaps trauma. A school bully tries to make the lives of others miserable. He’s a boy no one can like; but discover that his father is a drunk, abusive coward, and you see what exists within his mind that makes him this way. Someone who feels compelled to earn the favor of others may become a self-conceited person, caring only for their own fame and success; then we learn they had a parent who never loved them, nor approved of them, even when they were successful in something. Such people are what they are, because of past experiences.”

Annastaria paused to think again, looking away as she pondered the examples he offered. “I am not sure I understand.” she answered, somewhat embarrassed.

“I don’t believe you helped that girl for no reason, Erene. I believe something inside you, something that has always been there, and perhaps was dormant until now, compelled you, and continues to compel you, to look out for her. What that is, of course, I do not know… Something for you to think about.”

Annastaria looked away again, pondering. She had never heard this kind of thinking before. Decisions to her were all about what was right, and what was wrong, and unbelievers simply always did what was wrong. What did that make her? She already made several decisions that her tribe would consider unacceptable, not the least of which was helping Bastillina, and allowing her to come with her. Was she unrighteous, then? But if she was, why was the decision so hard to make? Why was she conflicted? The clear choice was to leave Bastillina, and not become associated with the aenmen. Was it sin that compelled Annastaria to help her? If it wasn’t sin, and if her choice was irresistible, what was it that made it so? A thought came to mind. Annastaria never knew her real parents. She was orphaned as a little girl. She remembered terrible dreams of being abandoned as a little girl, and left on aenman streets. Much like Bastillina. Was that what compelled her? Did she see herself in Bastillina?

“Perhaps,” Istvan continued, “there is something that brings the two of you together.”

Annastaria looked at him, as if a lightbulb came on, but she quickly found his statement even more confusing. “Why would you think that?” she asked, “She is aenmen, I am elf.”

“Part elf, you mean.” Annastaria was stumped again, being corrected about her origin by a man who had only known her for less than an hour. “But even so,” he continued, “even if you were fully elvish… something greater pulls you towards her. And don’t you try and deny it before me; I can see it in both of you. You couldn’t abandon the girl to the fate she had back in Levaan. And you couldn’t because something greater called to you, something that goes beyond flesh and bone; it transcends all our pety, fleshy indifferences.”

Istvan waited for Annastaria to speak. She was silenced by his words. She may not have been getting the information about the Black Priest she expected, but she was getting something. When it was clear she was not going to speak more, Istvan had another thought to press. “So this quest to find this man,” he began, “are you therefore intent on taking this girl with you? That might be just as terrible as leaving her to a life of poverty in Levaan.”

“No.” Annastaria said, finally speaking; she was sure of this, “I am taking her to a safe place… And that I cannot speak to you.”

“If by that you mean you have ‘friends’ somewhere beyond here that you will give her to, then I will press no further.” His deductive skills were impressive to Annastaria. “The only question you need then ask is,” he continued, “are your fellow elvish friends going to be as sympathetic towards her as you? Will they have the same connection you share with her?”

Annastaria was silenced again, but only for a moment. She knew the question he raised was a weighty one, but she had no choice but to hope. “I would hope,” she said, “that this ‘connection’ you speak of will indeed go beyond flesh and blood.”

“As would I.” he said, as if to ponder deeply. It reminded Annastaria of Gennades and his inquisitive demeanor that always made him mysterious. Istvan had to pause then, and his mind returned to Annastaria’s original question. This young elf seemed very capable and determined. But she was unusually calm for such a task as what she was undertaking.

Annastaria saw the pause; was he hesitating to answer? If so, he knew something. Her eyes widened slightly as she pressed Istvan, “If you know something about him, please tell it to me.”

“Let me ask you,” Istvan said, “what do you know about him?” 

Annastaria didn’t like Istvan continuing to answer her questions with his own, but she couldn’t help but feel like his questions were themselves answers to hers. At least, they made her own questions more sensible in some strange way. “I am not sure.” she said, somewhat ashamed, “I have heard him described as a man… Others say ‘he’ is but a force, or a group of men.”

“Indeed.” Istvan said. Annastaria could hardly believe it, he really did know something. What providence made this encounter happen? “But you yourself aren’t certain?” said Istvan.

“I cannot say for certain,” she answered, “I believe he is truly a man, though.” 

Istvan didn’t agree nor disagree. His mysterious behavior left Annastaria in an uncomfortable guessing game, once again, just as with Gennades. She was on the verge of deliberately casting aside all caution and patience with him. Before she could, he began to speak, “Have you heard of the lymos plant?” An unusual, and unexpected question; what did a rapid-growing vine plant have to do with this? Istvan continued, “A parasitic plant that grows in such an expansive way to consume an entire garden in only months. It is a subtle enemy to any gracious and magnificent garden. It takes control so fast, consumes so aggressively, and yet so discreetly it withers and controls. It often appears as part of the garden, when in reality, it is its own entity, with its own use for the garden. When the gardener tries to remove one of its vines, he thinks he has dealt with it sufficiently. But it’s already taken his garden. It surrounds him, overwhelms him… Before he realizes it, it’s too late; he is not dealing with any normal vine, but one bigger than it originally appears.”

Annastaria wasn’t sure exactly where Istvan was going with this, but she had an idea. “What do you mean?” she said, “That I should abandon this mission before it is too late?”

Istvan shook his head slightly, “Not at all. My point goes back to who the Black Priest is. The gardener dealing with the lymos plant doesn’t know soon enough what he’s dealing with until it’s too late; the parasite is not distinguishable by merely an outward diagnosis, and it’s advantage lies in you thinking that it can be sufficiently diagnosed merely with your eyes… And to that I ask you, do you know what you are dealing with?”

“That is why I am asking you. You clearly know something… Do you think he is a man? Or…”

“Or what? An organization? A force? What if I told you that what I believe is that he’s something of both? Truly a man… but more than that.” 

For the first time, Annastaria was receiving information outside what her own people said, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. On the one hand, Istvan spoke with a level of authority she couldn’t deny. On the other, she remembered Gennades’ scathing but likely true accusation that the aenmen were full of folklore and tales. She didn’t know if she could trust what he was saying. Either way, it did little to answer her question. 

“I do not know what to make of your words.” she said, “But I know that I must ask, what does this tell me about him?”

“There’s not much else I can say.” Istvan replied, “He is, as far as we can know, a legend.”

“He must be real somehow… We have been breached by him.”

“I’m sure you have. But there’s nothing I can teach you here; at least, not with the time you have left.” 

Annastaria sat up as her mind was immediately pulled back to the train, the train that she forgot about. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice panicking.

“It is…” Istvan said as he brought his watch hand up to look, “twelve P.M.” 

Annastaria nearly gasped, and stood up out of the chair as though it launched her out. “That cannot be!” she blurted out, “I must return to my train!”

“From here, across town to the train station? You’ll never make it, even with your capabilities, which I imagine are proper. And you may not want to forget your sister, or… whoever she really is to you.”

“I have to try!” Annastaria said, remembering Bastillina. “Bella!” she called, forgetting the alius, “We must leave, now!” She hoped Bastillina would hear her name called in such a manner as to make haste, while Annastaria didn’t wait for her to emerge. “I am greatly sorry, Istvan, for bumping into you.” she said as she started down the stairs, “I truly am. I hope I have done enough to make up for it.”

Istvan smiled, watching her walk off. “I can assure you,” he said, raising his voice as Annastaria made quick distance from him down the steps, “you’re not going to make it to the train.” Annastaria stopped in her tracks, and resisted the temptation to turn back to him. She knew he was right, and Bastillina still did not come back yet. Everything she had planned was about to run off with the train.

Finally, Bastillina came out slightly panicked. “What is it?” she said, her eyes searching for Annastaria. They found Annastaria at the bottom of the steps, standing still, her back to them all. As though in shame, she turned slowly to them. It only took a moment for Bastillina to realize what had happened, and Annastaria could see the panic rise in her as well. “We missed our train didn’t we?” she asked. Annastaria stood frozen and embarrassed, yet again. Istvan noticed as well. She needed help; not help with her target, but help getting back on track. He maintained his smile, looking at Bastillina. “Tell me, little girl,” he said, drawing Bastillina’s attention, “have you ever taken a nice boat ride across a lake?”

Oden watched the city blocks go by, sitting in the passenger seat of Dean’s car. It reminded him of his childhood for some reason, when his father would drive him to and from work. It was an oddly quiet ride, especially given Dean and Oden were friends. Oden found it strange that he and Dean had this sort of wall between them right now, but tried not to dwell on it. The silence was becoming an unbearable noise in Dean’s head. He looked at Oden once, contemplating the question he was going to ask. It was better than silence.

“So when do you plan on going home?” Dean asked. 

Oden was taken a little by surprise by the question, looking at Dean for a moment. He shrugged, looking back out the passenger window again. “I don’t know.” he said, “As soon as I can work off my debt, I suppose.”

“University debt, or your debt to the law?”

“Hopefully both.”

Dean smiled, “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.”

“If I get enough money and pay the right people, I think I’ll be alright.” Oden contemplated the question deeper. What was ‘home’ anyway? What was there to go back to?  “Maybe I’ll never go home.” he said. 

Dean looked at Oden for a quick second. Another question arose, and it was an even harder one for Dean to consider asking. But once again, it was the question, or the unnerving silence. “Why not?” he asked.

Oden shrugged once more, “Why would I? Never really liked ‘home’. Reminds me too much of my dad… Every day for years, he’d go to work, and come home late, never talk. Just grab a beer and read the paper.” He paused again, as the memories poured into his mind. He gave a light smile, “Hmph, he always told me that it was in our family tradition to be military men… Told me I had to follow his footsteps, as his dad before him and so on. If he was the result of military life, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Did he ever talk to you about the war?”

Oden chuckled, “No. It was probably better that way. The last thing I ever wanted to do was get my dad talking about the thing that turned him into a cold jerk.” Another silence filled the cabin of the car. Dean began to contemplate asking the next question on his mind, and whether it was a good idea. As if the first few weren’t landmines, this next one was the biggest and deadliest.

“What about your mom?” Dean asked, pushing the question out.

Oden didn’t reply, and Dean waited for him to respond–a quick reaction of outburst, perhaps. But he didn’t; he sat quietly. Oden looked at him for a moment. It was evident to Dean that Oden wasn’t going to say, and had no intention of saying. But he wasn’t particularly angry with Dean for asking it. Still, Dean knew what Oden was conveying, and that was a friendly body-language way of telling Dean to drop it, and he did. 

They continued on down the road, and hopefully to more pleasant conversations. But a moment later, Dean pulled up to what looked to be a pawn shop at a corner. Oden stood up in his seat. “What ‘re we doing here?” he asked.

 “I need to make a quick stop. See if I can get some extra cash.” Dean answered. 

“Is this necessary?” 

Dean got out of the car then looked in at Oden still in the passenger seat, “Well since it’s cash to help you, I’d say ‘yeah’.”

Oden paused, his facial expression still as he pondered whether this was a good idea or not. Dean didn’t know exactly what Oden’s situation was, but he had to know Oden needed to leave town as soon as possible. A stop like this was not helping. But Oden got out of the car to follow him. 

“You know I’m good on cash right now, right?” he said.

“Like you were a bunch of other times that weren’t true.” Dean joked back as they walked towards the pawn shop entrance.

“What makes you think I really need the money right now?”

“Actually it’s both of us. I need a little money for some of my own troubles, and you need some if you plan on getting to Whitehold. Two birds, one stone.” 

Dean entered the shop. Oden felt something was trying to keep him from going in, but he had to trust Dean. Still, he spent too long in Carzat, and with what he had against him, it wouldn’t be long until authorities and worse, bounty hunters, would be looking for him. The sooner he got out of the city, the easier it was for him to move on.

Like most pawn shops, this place was a mess with junk and other assorted items for sale. Oden didn’t care for much of it. His mind was too focused on leaving the city to look at common items in a pawn shot. He casually looked around, uninterested, following behind Dean, who made a B-line to the front desk. At the desk were three men casually talking to one another. One of them was behind the desk at the register, while the other two were on the customer side, leaning and relaxing on the counter, sharing a joke. 

They saw Dean approaching, and greeted each other, as though they knew him. These men knew Dean? Oden didn’t know them. Something wasn’t right. 

“Good to see you, Jodel.” Dean said to the man behind the register, who had bleached blonde hair.

“What can we do for you?” asked Jodel. His accent. He was from the southeast side at the very least. Notorious for gang activity.

“I need some money.” Dean replied.

“Alright… How much?” 

Dean paused for a second that made Oden stand still. “400 dollars and 7 cents, to be exact.” Dean said.

Jodel and the other two guys gave a short pause at the request. The whole atmosphere in the room fell silent, as if someone told a real bad joke. Jodel looked at the other two, getting the same reading from them, and then at Dean. “Alright,” Jodel said, “And who’s it for?”

“My friend Oden back here.” Dean said as he introduced Oden, “He needs to get going towards Whitehold. I’ve offered to help him.” Jodel looked at Oden, who looked back with a suspicious look on his face. He grew more and more uneased by all of this. 

“I’m really fine.” Oden insisted, “I’ve got more than enough for the road.” Jodel ignored Oden’s insistence. He instead led him and Dean towards the back, with the other two guys oddly on both sides of Oden. Something was telling him to split right now, and not go any farther into the store with these unknown men. But he was kept in by his trust in Dean. He stayed close to him. 

“What the hell is all of this?” Oden whispered to Dean.

“Relax,” Dean said, “these are good friends. We’ve got a tight relationship.”

“I’m very interested to know what that relationship is.”

Before Oden could vent his concern further, they were in the back room and as soon as Oden walked in, the door closed behind him by one of the others and Oden found himself surrounded. Dean stepped away from Oden and stood next to Jodel. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” Oden said to Dean. His last friend had betrayed him.

“Sorry mate,” Dean said to Oden, “but it’s better off this way.” 

Oden couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know if he should be more mad at Dean, or himself. Either way, it didn’t make the hole he was in any less deep. “And how exactly is that?” Oden asked.

“I did say I needed the money. Turning you over is going to set me off well.”

“All this time and for what? To just throw me under the bus now? We had a good friendship, Dean, a good thing going–”

”Not anymore.” Dean interrupted, “Take a look around, Oden. Have you heard what’s going on in Febia? That muck is coming over this way. I already ignored the dangers once when the Ubyassen Empire fell. I’m not about to make that mistake again. I’m taking Sharene with this money and gettin’ out of here for good.”

“And what about me? Everything we’ve done together.”

“Relax, Oden. I’m not turning you over to the Intero. I’m probably doing you a favor.”

“Please enlighten me.”

“Jodel here is gonna take the artifact, and he’s gonna put it on the market. Then we’ll take you off to Whitehold to give you a good start on the Intero. I’d suggest leaving east Enussia for good.”

“Or,” Jodel said, “we don’t have to do it that way. You can just give us the artifact and we’ll be on our merry way.” Oden thought for a moment. Maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea after all. Dean just double-crossed him and betrayed his trust, but at least he wasn’t going to just hand Oden to the wolves. It was clear he wasn’t going to get out of here. At the same time, Oden didn’t know any of these guys, and had no guarantee they wouldn’t just hand him over anyway. 

“Do you even know what this artifact is?” Oden asked.

“I know that it’s pretty damn valuable.” Jodel replied.

“Of course it is–to the guy I took it from. Outside that, what is it? Who else out there would be looking for it?”

“I’m sure I can find someone.”

“I doubt it. You don’t know this artifact like I do.” 

“Oden, what the hell are you doing?” Dean asked, his voice showing his concern for Oden, “You can’t win this–just give it up and let’s get this over with.”

“And why should I believe that you guys won’t just take me to the Intero anyway? You’re already willing to take from me and make money off of it. If you know what I have, you know the guys who want it back are offering a reward for the return of the artifact, and for me.”

Jodel was silent, which was more than enough for Oden. These guys had no intention of letting him go. Just when Oden saw Jodel’s face shift, he heard the click of a pistol’s hammer behind him. 

“Well aren’t you perceptive.” Jodel said, “But that don’t get you out of this hole.” 

It didn’t surprise Oden. But he saw Dean show visible disdain for this. “Jodel,” Dean said, “what are you talking about?” 

Jodel didn’t look at Dean for a moment, keeping his eyes fixed on Oden as he answered Dean, “As much as I’d like to punch that smart mouth off his face, your buddy here is right: I do plan on turning him and the artifact he stole to the Intero.”

“That’s not what we agreed to.” Dean protested.

“No it isn’t, but why care? You’ll be better off with this deal. We get more money if we turn him and his stolen item to the Intero. Plus, if I take the item, let him go and sell the thing, assuming anyone wants it, that makes me a target for the Intero. I don’t really need that on my back right now.” 

“I can’t agree to this, Jodel. Come on, you know Oden well enough to know he’s a good guy.”

“He’s not worth the trouble.” Jodel said, raising his voice at Dean, “So you either take this deal, move on, or both of you are going to the Intero as accomplices. Maybe I’ll score an extra few-hundred bucks.”

Dean was silent. He had a choice to make and he liked neither one. His decision had to prioritize what was most important. He needed to leave Carzat and ultimately Oenkev. At the same time, doing so would doom Oden for sure. His decision was not going to be one he’d like, nor would it likely make his friendship with Oden well off. But he found a disturbing comfort in thinking that if he went with Jodel, he’d never see Oden to truly regret the decision anyway. Oden didn’t take his eyes off Dean while he contemplated, which only made Dean’s decision heavier. But a subtle shift in Dean’s face revealed to Oden what he was going to do. “Fine.” Dean confessed. 

Jodel looked at Oden with his hand out, “I’ll be taking that artifact of yours.” he said.

Oden stared at Jodel, making sure the man knew that he did not like any of this, and went to his leather book bag. “In case you decide to turn heroic,” Jodel said as Oden reached in his bag, “you got a gun aimed at your head. Any funny move, you’re done.” Oden didn’t reply, but he had no intention of trying anything crazy. Not here, anyway.

He removed his hand slowly from the bag and in it he had an object that drew the curious eyes of everyone in the room. It was a cylindrical object with a wood-like texture. But as Jodel and the others got a closer look at it, it was not of wood, but of some other kind of material. It was about four inches in length and bore all over it an array of mystical, ritual-like symbols and designs, all of which sparkled blue in the light. They tried to make sense of it, but were captured by its alien appearance. Of all the countless inventions the Industrial Era had provided, they could not understand this thing.

Even Dean had to pause at the sight. Jodel finally refocused himself and took it from Oden. He held it up to his face and gave it a good examination. Then he smiled and said, “I don’t know what the hell this thing is… but it looks like a lot of money.” Jodel then gave the facial signal to his two coworkers to prepare to leave, and they did.

Dean walked up to Oden as Jodel and the others prepared to leave. “I’m sorry Oden.” he said, “I didn’t intend it to go like this.” As if that was supposed to make Oden feel better. He wanted to be mad at Dean. At the same time, what else could he have done? Could he blame Dean? Would he not have done the same? He really wasn’t sure. 

“Well, you’re probably right.” Oden said, “The way history plays out, with what’s going on in Febia… ideas spread like cancer. Hell, I’m already hearing of anti-magic protests in this city, and south in Levaan.”

“Masters are coming to an end, Oden.” Dean said, somewhat cryptically, and maybe even prophetically, “The Magisterial Order is losing control. The world is changing.”

“For the better, I hope.”

Dean was silenced by those five words. Change and progress were always a good thing. Why did it not feel like it now? It didn’t matter, and it was fruitless to dwell on it.At the end of the day, Dean needed to save his own life, and those most close to him. Betraying Oden, at this point, was a small price he had to pay. 

Jodel escorted Oden out of the room with his boys. There was one last guy working the store counter. “I’m running an errand.” Jodel said to him. 

The man nodded, catching the coded language. “Stay safe, Jodel.” he said. 

Oden’s captors didn’t cuff him. They didn’t need to. In this place, there was nowhere to go, and no one there to help. Before he knew it, they were only feet from the door, and Oden still didn’t have a confident way out. He had one idea, but it wasn’t going to be pretty. If he ended up dead, it was better than what the Intero was going to do to him.

They came outside, to an alley where Jodel’s sedan was sitting; a black wagon car. Carefully, Oden reached his hand into his book bag. Part one of his plan was complete. It was now time for part two. Approaching the car on the rear-right passenger side, Oden had to think quickly before the guy escorting him would open the door to get him in. The guy was already pushy, especially when Oden slowed down. Just three feet from the rear passenger door, Oden halted his movement, and even put up some resistance to the thug’s pushing to really make a point. Instinctively, the man shoved Oden into the passenger door. Oden pressed both of his hands on the door handle to soften the impact.

“Hey!” Jodel snapped, “Take it easy, mate!”

“The bloke wouldn’t move!” the thug said back.

“What, you can’t handle a little thief? He ain’t gonna put up no fight, so ease up! Stop scratching up my ride, and get your asses in the car!”

The man glared, but kept silent. With a snarl, he grabbed Oden and pulled him up, not noticing that Oden placed something on the inner-part of the door handle. With Oden out of the way, the man opened the door. Oden quietly waited to see if he felt anything. It appeared the guy’s hand, opening the door, didn’t make any contact with the small device Oden stuck on the inner-door handle. A relief for Oden, and one which was short-lived as he was shoved into the car.

Everyone else piled in, with Dean sitting in front with Jodel, who was driving. The other two thugs with Jodel sat in the back, Oden in between them. The ride was off. Oden had to make sure the final stage of his escape plan worked accordingly, and in the time limit he had, or his next stop was certain death. The gambit would happen in the next few minutes, and so far, no one but Oden seemed aware of it.

“I don’t suppose you know what this thing is.” Jodel asked, looking at him in the rear-view mirror. Oden removed his bag from over his shoulder to place it on his lap. 

“Sure don’t,” he replied.

“I don’t believe you.”

Oden shrugged off the assertion, “Don’t know what else to tell you; I don’t know what it does. All I know is that it’s worth a lot of money, and it’s got something to do with magic.”

“You can say that again. Seems rather strange that the Intero wants it… I hear you were working for them.” 

Oden finally looked back at Jodel through the mirror, slightly narrowing his eyes. “You could say that.” Oden replied, “So what?” 

“And this thing compelled you to throw all that away and turn one of the most notorious mafia gangs on you?” 

Oden shrugged again, looking out a window, “What can I say? I saw an opportunity for a good profit.” 

Jodel chuckled, “I don’t buy it, pal. No one does something so stupid as to steal from people like the Intero if they don’t even know what it is.” 

Oden was growing tired of this guy’s banter and taunt. Jodel was obviously amused with being in control of a situation. “Is there a point here?” Oden asked.

“I think you know more than you’re letting off. You know what this thing is. I think this is like those old stories of a bunch of thugs selling a dangerous spell-like weapon to an evil wizard for a profit and one fool tries to stop the whole thing by stealing the weapon.”

“Quite an imagination you have.”

“I have my moments.” Jodel looked in the rear-view mirror and noticed Oden was checking his watch. “Checking the time?” Jodel said with a grin, “Seeing how much time is ticking away at your life?”

“Something like that.” Oden replied.

“What difference does it make at this point?”

“I guess it depends on where you’re sitting.” Oden said. Dean remained silent, but there was something about that statement that didn’t sit well.

“Really?” said Jodel, “From where I’m sitting, the future looks rather bright and fortunate.”

“Well, that sounds fun… But you’ll be enjoying that all by yourself.” Oden said before he checked his watch one last time. He then threw his left elbow into the face of the guy sitting on his left. The second thug went to grab him, but Oden quickly braced himself, pushing against the one on the left. Just as he did, the small device Oden placed on the inner door handle detonated in an incendiary fashion before suddenly a loud explosion blasted through the tight cabin, dazing everyone inside, destroying the entire door handle and leaving a hole in its place. The explosion disabled the car door, and sent shrapnel into the face and side of the thug sitting on the right-side door, shielding Oden from most of the explosion.

Jodel swerved left and right, into traffic on the other side of the road, cursing uncontrollably. Oden brought his legs up to the thug on the right, who had a face and right side full of shrapnel. Using the thug on the left as support, Oden pushed his legs out at the one on the right, shoving him out of the disabled car door and tumbling into the street. Now he only needed to jump out of his newly-made exit. He grabbed his book bag as Jodel recovered control and leaped out of the door, but something gripped tightly to his leg, keeping him from jumping out, now with his head and upper body hanging out of the door. He looked up at what was keeping him, and the thug he elbowed managed to pull himself together in time just to grab Oden and keep him from making his escape.

He flailed his legs, trying to kick the man’s grip away, but he wouldn’t let go. Dean reached back to grab Oden, hoping to save him from certain death. Oden noticed that the seat Dean was in moved back and forth freely and he shoved his free foot into the seat, which in turn slammed Dean into the dashboard. 

The door that was blown open teetered open and closed on Oden’s head, all while Jodel was still driving at increasing speeds. The man gripping his leg began to pull Oden in, forcing Oden to swing his free leg into the man’s face. Oden couldn’t get a clean shot, no matter how hard he tried, and he couldn’t keep swinging knowing Dean was going to try and grab him again. He peered down below the car door, just inches from the pavement passing by his face, ready to grind his flesh and bone. He froze, and his eyes went wide at the sight of a parked car that Jodel was about to slam the disabled door into, crushing Oden’s head. He pulled himself up just as they blazed past the parked car, slamming the disabled door shut, sending shards of glass all over the inside of the car just before it could crush Oden’s face and neck in the doorway. With glass going into the face of the thug holding Oden’s leg, he let one hand go to cover his face.

Oden reached over and socked him in the nose that forced him to let loose his grip on Oden’s leg. Oden ripped it free, threw his book bag out of the doorway and then without a second to hesitate, leaped out of Jodel’s car.

He tumbled and thrashed across the pavement, his hip bones taking the brunt of the impact, and stopping only because he tumbled into a curb. And in an instant, it was quiet and calm. Small bits of glass came with Oden, and some of it was on his jacket. His side took a hard hit from the pavement impact, and it was swelling in pain. People on the sidewalks were watching in shock at the sight. But Oden couldn’t wait to make a scene; he had to get out of there. Jodel didn’t stop, which to Oden meant that his plan worked. Jodel was going to take his chances with the artifact. That was good enough for Oden. 

He struggled to pick himself up, aided by a pedestrian who came to see if he was okay. All he needed was his bag that he threw out with him. With it retrieved, Oden calmed himself, took control of his breathing, and moved on, alone once more. His only friend that he had left had betrayed him. He knew that someday his and Dean’s relationship would have to end, but he never expected it to be like this. He didn’t know if this ought to be a good thing or not. The good news was that he didn’t have to rely on anyone anymore, and hence could travel anonymously much more efficiently. But the feeling of betrayal had a way of making the world seem to shrink around him.

Oden couldn’t help but wonder if anyone at this point would help him. This artifact was too powerful to fall into the wrong hands, and it was this that attracted such people, people with a lot of connections to find him. Connections that unfortunately, won’t cross these people for Oden’s sake. What else could he expect from the kind of world he dwelled in? A world of criminals. Part of him wondered if that was his own fault. Either way, unless they were complete strangers to the entire land, with no motivation at all to his own predicaments, no one could help him to the Enussian Union embassy. But that was foolish thinking. What kind of person would go out of their way to help Oden if they had no interest in it?

Jodel continued driving with just one of his men left in his car, who was in the back seat tending his cheek. 

“We gotta go back!” the man in the back seat urged, tending his bruised face.

“There’s no point.” Jodel said back.

“How? Oden was part of the reward. That’s half of it left back there!”

“As long as we got this,” Joden said as he pulled out the artifact, “it don’t matter. We’ll find him and kill him later.”

Elise and Dylen arrived at the market square, now under police control. The people were evacuated from the premises, except for Leno. It was officially a crime scene, but it was more than that. By now, Annastaria and Bastillina were gone, and Leno was left with the remainder of his men. Elise came into the building, escorted by an officer, describing the situation to her. 

“What do we know about the attack?” Elise asked him as he led her to Leno’s room.

The officer paused. He could hardly believe what he was about to say. “Well,” he began, “your boy says he was attacked by an elvish, teenage girl.”

“Just one?”

“Just the one.”

Elise looked around, moving past several of Leno’s guys being treated for mostly minor injuries, interpreting the scene in light of what she was told. She found it difficult to accept. “Is he sure?” she asked, “Why would some random elvish… teenage girl do something like this?”

“I think a better question,” asked Dylen, behind Elise, “is what kind of teenage, elvish girl could do this?”

“I don’t know.” said the officer, “I’m just telling you guys what everyone who was here said. It was a female elf, although some say she almost looked aenman.”

Elise sighed off her frustration. She not only was angered that this even happened, but that Leno was where he was not supposed to be when it did. It was going to make this process difficult, if not impossible. She tried not to think about what her boss was going to say. Already she heard reports that Leno was injured in this.

The moment she dreaded, but yet was waiting for arrived, when Elise came up the stairs, down the mildew-smelling hall and into Leno’s room, where she saw several officers, there on protection protocol. A medic was tending Leno’s face and hand. He had his left eye patched over, a bandage on his nose, and dried blood on his left cheek. The only thing uglier than this situation was Leno’s battered face.

“Well, look who decided to show up!” he mocked, “My angel and protector! Just in time to clean up the mess from the wench elf who attacked me! Well done!”

Elise boiled within, but pushed the lid down with all her strength. “Shut it, Leno.” she said, “What happened here?”

“You didn’t hear?” he said, mocking further, “Wow! Here I thought I could rely on you people to keep me safe! You drive your pretty little red-head face all the way down here from your pretty little office, and you still don’t know what the hell happened?”

“Who attacked you, Leno? I need to know.”

“How the hell do I know who she is? I’ve never seen the wench before in my life! She was some bugger elf who came out of nowhere! It was that damned Bella’s fault.”

“What does this have to do with Bella?”

“Bella stole something from the elf. I had nothing to do with what that kid did, by the way–I didn’t encourage her to steal nothin’!”

“Relax, Leno. Lucky for you, I know my boss well enough that he’s much more interested in whoever this elf is, I can assure you.”

“Aw, well I feel all warm inside, then.”

Elise sighed. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Leno grunted again, feeling his face pulsate in pain again due to him getting animated with Elise. He had to calm down, and think clearly. “That little wench, Bella,” he began, “she helped the elf escape. The two of them made out the door, probably used the rear exit to evade the cops as they came in. Never saw ‘em again.”

“Do you have any idea where they may have gone?”

“Not the slightest clue. This is where Bella lives, and that little wench ain’t dumb enough to come back here.”

“And why is that?” Dylen asked.

The question forced Leno to pause. He nearly confessed to a desire to kill the girl in a fit of rage. He didn’t say, but Dylen could see it in his eyes. Dylen’s eyes narrowed in disgust. As far as Dylen could see, Leno deserved every bit of this, and more. He looked around, taking in the scene, realizing Leno wasn’t in cuffs. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t why he came back to Elise’s department. He turned and walked out.

Elise was startled to see him leave. Something wasn’t right. But right now, she had to finish up with Leno. She turned her attention to him again, “So I guess that means she’s gone, with this elf, and not coming back?”

“That would be my guess. Geez, I do your job better than you. All you guys are just picking up the mess after it happens. I thought you were supposed to be protecting my ass!”

“Hard to do that when you’ve got kids doing your dirty work for you, robbing all the wrong people.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!” he snapped back, pointing his finger.

“Whatever you say, Leno. Sit tight, while the doctors get your ugly face fixed up.”

Leno continued to mock Elise as she walked out of the room to find Dylen. It took her walking out of the building and back into the market square before she found him looking at a rotating shelf of handmade necklaces. It’s been a few years, but Dylen always did the same thing when he was frustrated. She walked up to him, and he could sense her coming closer, but he didn’t look at her. 

“You alright?” she asked.

Still not looking at her, “So,” he said, “this is what you’ve been doing since I’ve been gone?” He turned his face to her then. His eyes were like darts shot into her.

“It’s not that simple, Dylen.”

“It’s not? From what I see, you and your department are actively protecting a clear piece of scum criminal.” Elise didn’t speak. She took the retort and shame coming from Dylen’s convicting words. He knew what her silence meant. “So what’s he got that’s worth protecting?” he asked. The question skipped several necessary prior inquiries, such as why she was protecting him in the first place. It was clear to Elise that he knew all about this kind of scheme; those questions weren’t necessary.

“He’s a valuable witness to a string of drug busts.” Elise said, as if to confess to a terrible sin. Indeed, she felt dirty being part of this. Dylen didn’t say anything for a moment. He was processing the whole thing; what to make of it, what to make of Elise, and how to answer back. “I don’t like this anymore than you, Dylen.” she said, “I’m sorry you had to come back to this.”

He remained silent for another moment. Then he nodded his head, as if to agree. He looked at Elise with a grin of irony, “Yeah… Me too.” He turned and walked the other direction. “I’ll see you back at HQ.” he said as he left, not looking back, and leaving Elise alone. She never felt so alone in the midst of so many fellow officers of the law. Dylen didn’t understand. He was still young, and had a ways to go. That’s what she told herself, anyway. He wasn’t supposed to be the one lecturing her on what was wise and good. Why did it seem that way?

Dylen came out of the market area to the outer perimeter, where he was approached by a pair of officers. They recognized him as SIU. “Excuse me, sir,” one said. There was a sense of urgency in his voice that drew Dylen’s attention, enough that he almost forgot what had just happened. The officer continued, “We were told to relay any information to you guys.”

“What’ve you got?” Dylen asked.

“We’ve received reports that a man running a corner store a few blocks away called in that he spoke to someone matching the description of our suspect.”

Dylen paused to think for a moment. He contemplated whether to simply walk away and think about this whole thing, seeing it as morally reprehensible, and most of all, that Elise was caught in the middle of it. But he also considered that right now, he may need to set that aside. A possible lead on their suspect was presented. “Where is this store?” he asked.

The officers gave Dylen the directions, and without any assistance nor notification to Elise, he proceeded to the place. He needed to get away from her for a while, but not to sit and wallow in his anger. He needed to do something productive, even if it meant assisting an investigation he did not like. It was a ten-minute walk across intersections, around corners, through the tall, urban city until he reached the store. 

He walked inside, looking around the place from right to left until he came to the counter. As his scan looked towards it, a man stood up from behind it, tending to the cigarette section. It was the same man that Annastaria had gotten assistance from.

“Hello there.” said the worker, “Can I help you?”

Dylen walked towards the counter, taking a small bag of peanuts to buy. “I’m a little hungry.” Dylen said casually. 

“Well, I can help you with that.”

The man priced it in the register, and Dylen took the opportunity to speak. “I’m with the SIU.” The man stopped for a moment to look at Dylen who showed him his badge. “Don’t worry,” Dylen continued, “you’re not in trouble… So you heard about what happened at the market square a little while ago?”

“Yeah.” said the man as Dylen gave him the dollar for the peanuts.

“But you weren’t there when it happened, right?”

“No. But before it happened, a young elvish girl came in here. At least, she was only part elvish, I think. Still, she had an accent that matched at least the elves down southeast.”

“What makes you think she was related to what happened in the market?”

“The fact that just as she stepped outside, some kid robbed her, just across the street at the corner over there. The elvish girl ran after the kid, going north. Never saw them again, and that’s where the market is. Figured it was connected.”

Dylen didn’t affirm that it was, but he was impressed with this man’s instincts. “This elvish girl,” Dylen said, “what did she come in here for?”

“She came looking for directions. She was looking for the train station.”

Dylen paused a moment to soak in that statement. It was a key bit of information to help in finding her. But that she was going to the train station wasn’t enough. “Did she happen to say where she was going?” he asked.

“Yeah. She said she was going west.”

A helpful tip. There was only one train track going west from Levaan. Given it’s been a few hours, she would be only forty miles or so out. It gave Dylen and Elise something to work with. “Thank you.” Dylen said as he took his peanuts and made for the exit, “You’ve been very helpful.”

“That girl,” said the clerk, just before Dylen stepped out, “she’s… not in trouble, is she? She was a nice girl.”

Dylen looked at him, and paused. The question was simple yet heavy. Dylen realized that he himself wasn’t sure if her being in trouble was a good thing or a bad thing. “I hope not.” he said, and stepped out.

As the day went on, Oden’s trail became more and more cold. Lance became continually frustrated and perplexed at how he was able to escape. If Oden hadn’t been captured by now, it was a certainty that he was out of the city. There was no sign of any kind that Oden had even been found. Lance waited in his office, listening to the news in the background, which was a morning update on the weather and traffic, when the phone on his desk rang. It seemed louder than normal, and Lance couldn’t tell if it really was, or if it was the anxiety. He almost snatched it up. 

“Talk to me.” he said.

“Sir,” said the man on the other line, “we have a couple guys here. They say they have the artifact.” Lance’s face darted to Goate, who almost had the same reaction. Lance retained his composure, nearly freezing at the news. But while the artifact was mentioned, there was no mention of Oden. “No Oden?” Lance asked.

“One of them says that he captured Oden, but he escaped, leaving the artifact.”

Lance became concerned. Oden was a little rat, but he was no fool. He had proven it numerous times already. It was uncharacteristic of Oden to escape without the artifact. Of course, when desperate, even a no-good thief like Oden may just cut his losses if it meant his life. “Send them in.” Lance said before hanging up the phone. Moments later, his office door opened, proceeded first by two of Lance’s henchmen. Between the two of them came Jodel, Dean and his remaining thug named Harris. The other one was nowhere to be found, as he was last seen being kicked out of Jodel’s now torn-up car. Lance’s office was impressive, with a dark red theme, tinted with yellow lights. Lance stood up, far too interested in this to simply sit casually. 

“They tell me you’ve got my artifact.” Lance said to Jodel.

“Yes, sir.” Jodel replied, confidently taking the bag and placing it on Lance’s desk before him. Jodel felt like a boy doing a good deed for his father. His reward would be incredible. 

“And what about Oden?” Lance said as he reached to grab the bag, “How’d you lose him?”

“It’s a long story sir; one I really hate to repeat. But he’s a sneaky little rat, sir. He may have escaped, but I got the artifact first.”

Lance was hesitant, afraid that his internal feeling that something was wrong would prove unfortunately true. But he knew he had to get this over with. He unraveled the bag and reached inside, pulling out the cylindrical, stone object with the blue engravings on it. He stared at it for a second, which to Jodel felt like a minute. He looked to Dean and Harris, who looked back at him for a second, trying to see what each other was thinking. But they couldn’t help but keep their eyes primarily fixed on Lance. Lance then looked at Jodel. “What the hell is this?” he asked.

 Jodel felt like his heart just fell out of place, along with all his confidence. He stuttered, “That’s… that’s the artifact, isn’t it? What you’ve been after?”

“This? This isn’t what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this isn’t what we’re looking for.” Lance repeated, raising his voice.

“But… but it looks like–” 

“–like a mystical artifact?” Lance interrupted. He placed the thing on his desk and sighed. Oden had played them yet again. 

“Sir,” Jodel replied, still in a stutter, and now panicking that he was going to be killed for it, “sir, I had no idea. I didn’t know what it looked like, I just assumed.”

“Of course you did.” Lance said, walking around his desk and to a painting on the wall, pocketing his hands. All eyes were on Lance, whom Goate knew was clearly attempting to keep his calm. After a short pause in thought, the television ever so present in the background, to provide some sense of relief to the rising tension, Lance then quickly turned to them and said, “You got played by this guy. He’s no fool. What you brought me was a nice little stone art sculpture… Dammit all.”

Jodel felt an unnatural heat rush through him. He had to do something, or say something to get himself out of there alive. All he could think of was to start making blatant promises. “I swear it, I’ll find Oden. I got some connections; my people and I can help track him down.” he said.

Lance stared at Jodel, pondering, making Jodel more nervous. Lance wanted to beat this low-level street thug to death with his own bare hands. But he knew that this man knew too little about the situation. He tried to look at the positive side of this. This low-level thug most likely had some connections. Lance needed as much help as he could get. 

“I hope you are a man of your word.” Lance said.

“I am sir.” Jodel said, stuttering again.

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Well, if I’m being honest sir, I’m talking to a mafia boss. I’m completely at your mercy and I really don’t want to end up dead in a ditch or buried in a place where my momma can’t find me.” 

Lance couldn’t help but grin at the statement. He had this boy on his knees. Perfect. Lance walked towards Jodel, who felt a heavy presence press on him with every step Lance took. “Lucky you,” Lance said as he approached and stopped a few feet in front of Jodel, “I’m a reasonable man. It’s why I am where I am. You weren’t fully aware of the situation, so who can fault you for that? Am I right, Goate?” Goate affirmed. “What’s your name, little man?” Lance asked.

“My name’s Jodel. This here is my partner, Harris. Over there is Dean.”

“And what kind of connections do you have?”

“Mostly street-level stuff. We run a pawn shop, but we also use it to run goods, and weapons. Occasionally, stuff like bounties–like this. We’ve probably done some stuff for you already.”

“I’m sure you have. I could use all the help I can get, Jodel, Dean and Harris. I’m willing to give you guys a second chance. I’ve got a bounty on Oden’s capture already. Use what connections you can to track him down. If you bring him to me, and the artifact, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. I may even have more job opportunities for you in the future.”

“That sounds awesome, sir.”

“Yes… ‘awesome’. But, don’t forget, if you screw up, then… well, then we don’t have a deal.” 

Jodel picked up the vagueness in the words from Lance.  “Yes–yes, sir.” he replied, swallowing once.

“Good.”

While Jodel and Harris felt sighs of relief at this news, Dean’s concern rose. He had to interject himself at that point. “Wait,” he said, “I’m truly grateful, Mr. Lance, that you’re not going to whack us… But I was only hoping to get this job done and be on my way. I’m not part of Jodel’s group, officially. I need to get home and to my girlfriend. I just needed money to get out of Oenkev, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” asked Lance as he slowly approached Dean. “You don’t honestly expect me to pay you for this, do you?”

“No sir.” Dean answered with a stutter. 

Lance paused for a moment, as if to think. He stared Dean down, showing no regard for personal respect. “Let me see if I read you correctly,” Lance said, “You did this just so you could get enough money to get you and your girlfriend out of here–which by the way, I can relate. But now that you’re not getting that money, how are you going to get out of town, exactly?”

Jodel and Harris looked to Dean nervously. “I don’t know.” answered Dean, “I guess I’ll find another way.” 

Lance paused again, staring at Dean without a blink nor any change in the cold facial expression he had. “That’s a shame.” he finally answered, “I could guarantee you both everything you need to get out of here. Help me get my artifact along with Oden, and I’ll make sure you get out of Carzat alive.” 

Another silent moment went through the air. Dean couldn’t help but feel like there was a subtle threat in Lance’s voice when he guaranteed he and his girlfriend would get out ‘alive’. 

“In case you didn’t catch the hint, Mr. Dean,” Goate interjected, “that wasn’t a suggestion.” 

Dean froze. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He could speak up, or try to run, but it would do him no good. This must’ve been what Oden felt earlier, only far worse. The irony of their situations riveted in his mind. “Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.

Lance shrugged and said, “I don’t know who you are; you walk into my main base of operations, my office, which is not exactly public knowledge and now you expect to just go scott free. You don’t honestly expect me to allow that, do you? Prove to me that you’re a reliable guy, and that I can rely on you walking free without spilling your guts. Or I’ll be spilling your guts. Do we have an understanding?”

As if Dean had a choice. His mind was in a freeze, and all he could do was swallow.

The phone rang again, snapping the tension like a guitar string breaking. Goate went and picked it up, “What is it?”

Lance and the rest of his company waited, hearing a tiny voice from the phone that they could not understand. Goate was silent most of the call, listening intently, giving an affirmation of taking in information in intervals. Finally, he said goodbye to the caller and hung the phone up, looking at Lance. “That was our friend in the police department.” he said, “He’s got a tip on Oden’s last whereabouts. Northwest Carzat outskirts, near interstate 76.”

Lance looked at Jodel, “Lucky you; you’ve got a head start on the rest of the bounty hunters looking to collect. I’d suggest you get on it now.”

“Of course, Mr. Lance.” Jodel responded, looking at Harris and Dean to que them both to exit. They hastily left the room, leaving Lance and the rest of his men.

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” Goate said to Lance. Lance looked at Goate for a second, then at Jodel and Harris leaving his place. He forced these street thugs into his service, but he wasn’t sure it would result in anything worthwhile. He was left with only one option at this point. An option he hated.

“I need to call Ryker.” 

Goate almost paused, but affirmed Lance’s statement, understanding the gravity of what Lance was requesting.

Elise returned to her office. Part of her resisted the pull of duty to go back, knowing what was waiting for her. But she knew she had to go back. She would have an outraged boss on the line, and a disappointed partner in her immediate circle. For some reason, though she ought to be more concerned for the former, it was the ladder problem that Elise was most concerned about. But before she reached the office, she could already anticipate the scenario. Her boss, Captain Belvek’s call, would be waiting for her the moment she arrived, to “discuss” the drug-busting case with Leno.

She came into the office, and up through the elevator. “Mrs. Bellerd,” an office worker said to her, “you have a call waiting for you. I believe it’s from Belvek’s office.”

Elise nearly snapped at him for the words, but as much as she hated how casual these simple office workers were in delivering what they did not know was bad news, she relented, pushing down every attempt to let out the pressure on him. She walked through the body of workers and to her office, no longer with the comfortable stride from earlier that morning. Though most of what was taking place so far was to be anticipated, one thing was unexpected. Dylen was nowhere to be found. She didn’t know if that should be a relief or not. Either way, she knew one thing was certain, her boss was waiting to talk to her, and he would not be pleased.

Elise took the call in her office, and got what she had expected. She had attempted in some hopeless hope that because Leno was engaged in thievery, and exploiting children that provoked the incident, maybe he had thus voided his contract with the SIU, putting him in with the rest of the criminals. “Out of the question!” Belvek vehemently rebuked, “Do you really think the DA will accept any of this? This is a blatant embarrassment to our system, and you know it. Vigilante justice will not be tolerated.”

“I am not suggesting that we adopt vigilante justice, sir,” Elise argued, in as respectful a tone as she could, “I’m only suggesting that we have been trying to get Leno on something, and so have the prosecutors. He was outside his home during the restriction period, and we have evidence that he was exploiting children.”

“Evidence you’ve acquired through completely illegal means. This is not up for discussion. It’s void evidence, Elise, and you know it. Now you have a direct and intolerable violation of a witness contract, and a prime suspect at large.”

Elise paused. But she couldn’t stay quiet for too long, or it would only sink her further. “I understand, sir.” she said, “What do you want me to do?” 

The angered captain calmed himself. “I will handle the situation with our witness.” he said, “What I want from you is to track down and take into custody this suspect of yours. Whoever they are, they have violated SIU protocol, and they must be brought to justice.”

“… Understood, sir.” Elise said, hesitating somewhat.

“Good. Keep me updated.” and he hung up.

Elise, who was left on a dead line, casually placed the phone back in its slot on her desk. She stared at the floor beyond her desk, staring almost off into an abyss of an unknown future. That certainly seemed like what was happening. The silence in the room was gnawing. She could hear the outside cubicles far too well, and the wall clock ticking away at her world. She stood up, and walked to the window, looking out to downtown Levaan, as if somehow it was going to give her the answers to all of this, or that it would tell her she was dreaming, and needed to wake up, where she left off thinking this was indeed, and truly a good day. A triple knock tapped her wooden door, and she turned. It was Dylen stepping in. Part of her felt she needed to apologize, the other was just glad he was here. 

“Sorry I’m late.” he said.

She walked towards her desk as he stepped in. “You’re fine.” she said, “Just tell me there was a good reason for it… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” he said, almost immediately, as if he was quickly rebutting any attempt to talk about the last time they saw each other. “I do have good reason.”

“I could use a lot of good right now.” she replied.

“I got a tip on our suspect. A corner store owner just a few blocks from the market square said someone matching her description came into his place, looking for the train station… She’s going west.”

Elise had about the same reaction to the information that Dylen had when he first heard it. Questions and theories raced through her mind almost immediately, as if a gust of wind blew a whole pile of still leaves scattered through the air. This news couldn’t have been on better time; just as she knew she had to go to work with almost nothing to follow on this mysterious elf.

“Did he say anything else?” she asked, refocusing her wandering eyes on Dylen.

“Afraid not. We got one lead, and we’d better get on it quickly if we want to find her.”

Elise couldn’t agree more, but just as she was about to go into action, she stopped herself, and knew she had to say something about what happened before. “Dylen,” she began, “are you okay? With what happened earlier, I just want you to know–”

“Leave it be, Elise.” he interrupted, “I get it. I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it, but I’m here.”

Elise was comforted, but also sad at Dylen’s loyalty. He was one of the most trustworthy men she encountered in the force. “Okay.” she replied, not sure if she should be content with his insistence not to talk about it or not, “Then we need to get moving. You and me, let’s go.”

This Dylen did not expect, and his face was visibly curious. “Wait. We’re actually going?” he asked.

Elise went to grab her coat. “We are.” she affirmed, “I prefer it this way. I need to get out for a bit anyway. If we move quickly, we should be able to catch her by the time she reaches the next town.”

Dylen paused a moment. He wasn’t expecting this, and had to consider if this was a smart move or not. But he contented himself that perhaps Elise was right, and he also could use some fresh air. “I’ll call the authorities in the town ahead of us.” Dylen said as they walked out of her office together, “See if I can pinpoint that train more accurately.”

“That would be a good idea. If it hasn’t arrived yet, have it stopped, and the authorities there keep it until we arrive.”

“If it’s already passed through?”

“We’ll at least know if we should stop or drive right through into Cymroyl, which is where it will inevitably end up.”

Although Dylen was up for getting out for a few hours, he wasn’t sure it was good to have to go up to Cymroyl. If their suspect reached the city, it would possibly make it impossible to find them again. Everything depended on finding her before she could leave the first town. But all the while, Dylen had a pressing thought in the back of his mind that would not leave. Who was this girl? She didn’t seem normal, based on the descriptions of her. Many elves had passed through Levaan before, but few could do what she evidently had done. He couldn’t stop thinking about the nature of this elf, and the less they knew of her, the more dangerous she was.

Annastaria, led by Bastillina, found the train and though they missed the one she originally intended to catch, they were able to catch the next one. It delayed Annastaria a few hours, leaving her mind plagued with what if’s that gnawed at her, but she had no choice but to accept what had happened. This was why being on time, being disciplined, as she was raised, was so important to her. Missing appointments put her in a whirlwind of untamed thoughts, mixed with shame and guilt. But she couldn’t do anything to change it, even though she had remnant thoughts of boiling anger over the whole ordeal. They were forty miles out at this point, moving north, and would have to continue another forty miles that would go around Carzat Lake until they reached Cymroyl. 

Bastillina could hardly believe it. She was leaving Levaan for the first time in her life. She never thought she would see this day, and certainly not so suddenly. She sat in their cabin, looking out the window that looked east, watching Levaan’s large buildings slowly shrink until the trees began to overcome them. For the next ten minutes were the rural areas, filled with mostly factories, warehouses and in some parts, farms. But she sat alone, with Annastaria nowhere to be found.

An attendant came to their cabin, and Bastillina almost didn’t notice her, being so focused on the view. “Young lady,” the woman said, drawing Bastillina’s attention, “I don’t mean to bother you, but I’m here to check your train tickets.”

“Oh!” Bastillina said, hardly able to contain her excitement. She took both hers and Annastaria’s ticket and gave it to the attendant, who examined them for a moment and handed them back to Bastillina.

“Enjoy your ride, ma’am.” the woman said with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you!” Bastillina said back. The attendant took her exit. “Oh, hey!” Bastillina said, stopping the attendant, “Can I maybe get something to drink?”

“Of course. There’s a menu for you on the counter. Take a look at it, and when you’re ready to order, just press that white button there.” She pointed, drawing Bastillina’s attention to a metal-framed console just next to the wall frame of their cabin room. Once Bastillina understood the instructions, she let the attendant go, and she continued to take in the sights. She had never seen the vast lands outside Levaan before. Finally! No more buildings which were like walls that kept her from seeing the world outside. So many trees, so much green! 

But as Bastillina was overcome with the view, Annastaria was in the bathroom, alone, with the world outside being the last thing she wanted to think about. She examined her left ear, which had dried blood trailing out of it. She hoped against hope as they boarded the train that it wasn’t blood, but her mind playing games. There it was; the mirror doesn’t lie. 

Her ears were still ringing, and they were in stinging pain now, at least her left ear was. She examined it in the mirror, and the sight caused her to fear the worst. In the midst of the adrenaline-pumping action, she had no choice but to fight through the gnawing, seething pain, the likes of which she never experienced before. But now, as her body calmed, the emotion and fear poured over her back like warm water. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears she couldn’t let anyone else see. What did this mean for her hearing? It couldn’t be good. The mere thought sent shivers through her. Everything since they got to the train station felt so one-sided. Her right ear still ringed, but she could still hear relatively normal sounds. It was the left ear, where the gunshots were most blistering, that she was afraid of.

How much more of this was she going to have to endure? She kept trying to tell herself she was giving herself to the cause of her people. Her mind, her spirit, and her body. But she found herself struggling to keep faith in that loyalty. She realized that the promise to give her body was such a broad, all-encompassing statement, that she overlooked the small things, such as her precious ears, being destroyed. She has already suffered separation from her home and her people, her father and sister, and the ordinances of worship. She was surrounded by aenmen apostasy, and her senses have been ravaged and violated just in this one day. Oh how precious her ears were now, now more than they ever had been.

She heard a set of quick knocks. “Erene!” It was Bastillina, “You should see the menu they have! This is just too much!”

“Go and sit down.” Annastaria said through the door sternly, “I will be out in a minute.” Bastillina acknowledged, and her feet could be heard patting the wooden floor away from the bathroom.

Annastaria’s emotional stability was rocking back and forth, on a narrowed foundation, teetering over an abyss. Even raising her voice to Bastillina stung her ears. She had trained and prepared for these kinds of things, but yet she found herself in a place she never thought she would be in, in only two days, with a kind of pain she knew she wasn’t ready for. She wiped the blood from her ear and jawline, then wiped her running nose, and sniffled once; a sniffle that also stung. She stared at herself in the mirror, as if to try and muster up courage and strength from it. It didn’t seem to work. All she saw was a fragile little girl trying to be strong.

Finally, she worked up the strength, and pressed down the emotional turmoil enough to come out from the bathroom. Stepping out felt like taking a breath of fresh air, though she didn’t know why. She was only going back to another huge problem set upon her lap. Annastaria wasn’t sure what her elders, and even her own father would think of her decision to take Bastillina under her wing. She knew Innaduur and Gennades would surely object sternly, but she didn’t know what her father would say. Thinking of her father led to her thinking of Ellumar, which brought a smile to her face. Somehow, Annastaria could tell Ellumar would love Bastillina.

She came to their cabin, where Bastillina managed to settle her excitement of the outside scenery enough to look more carefully at the menu. When Annastaria came in, Bastillina was like an excited dog to see their owner’s return. If she had a tail, it would surely be wagging right now. “Look!” she said, pointing, “All of this food! We’re like royals!”

“So I have heard.” Annastaria answered, sitting down, listening to Bastillina go through a list of foods that she did not recognize at all. Annastaria tuned out Bastillina’s words, staring out the window into an abyss of uncertainty. Finally, she couldn’t take the noise level of Bastillina’s rising voice. “Bella!” she said, hurting her tender ears with the snap. Bastillina saw Annastaria’s face shrink in pain as she gripped her left ear, which made her stop and nearly go over to help.

“What’s wrong?” Bastillina said.

“It is nothing.” Annastaria said, fighting the pain with a wince, “Please… Can you only be quieter? I am tired.”

Bastillina paused. She never thought about how tired Erene would be, but it made sense now that she realized it. However much she was excited, she didn’t want to be rude in front of the young woman who saved her. She took in the silence, looking out the window with Annastaria. 

“I can’t believe it.” Bastillina said, excited, but with a controlled voice, “I’m finally leaving that bloody, cruel city behind. I hated that place.”

“As am I.” Annastaria said, still looking out the window.

Bastillina paused, wanting to speak, but unable to find the right words. This was surely some kind of dream. She sighed, and the only thing that she could think of to say came out, “I’ve never seen the world outside Levaan before.”

Annastaria looked at Bastillina, puzzled and surprised. Annastaria had not seen such a large city as Levaan before, and that was an amazing sight, but what caught her even more amazed was that Bastillina had not seen the world outside before. “You have not been out here before?” Annastaria asked.

Bastillina shook her head, “Never. I’ve always wanted to leave that place.”

“What prevented you?”

Bastillina shrugged, “Losing my parents, obviously. I got stuck with Leno as a result, and he used me for all the stuff he was doing. My parents supposedly owed him money, so he says, and when they died, that debt fell on me.”

Annastaria didn’t know what to say. Again, she couldn’t help but wonder, as terrible as aenmen were, were they so wicked so as to incur family debts upon helpless children? Maybe Bastillina did have good reason to be a thief. Whoever this ‘Leno’ character was, he was the worst Annastaria had seen so far. Nevertheless, Bastillina did sin against her, and the girl, though she did not owe Leno anything, owed Annastaria. At least, that’s what she was telling herself. 

“So where is this place of yours?” Bastillina asked. The question caught Annastaria off-guard. She almost entirely forgot the promise she made to the girl.

“It is west from here.” Annastaria said, referring to where she was to meet the others at Farik, and reminding herself of her small and impotent role in this whole quest. As if that in itself was unnerving, she now grew more and more concerned about this recent decision. She still did not have any confidence that what she had decided in bringing Bastillina along was a good call. What’s worse was that she didn’t tell the girl who the “safe people” were, which were the elves awaiting her in Forik. 

Annastaria’s mind shook and shifted, not from the quest itself, but from the reality of what she has done in taking this aenman child along. What would her people say if she brought her to them? Surely Errnos would use it as evidence against her. Still, there was something about this girl. And thinking about the whole ordeal, led Annastaria to a thought she had to bring up to Bastillina. She reached into her bag as she noticed the tingling feeling in her own body by now, and she drew a pair of spherical glass vials, carrying in each a few ounces of a blue liquid.

Bastillina paused, lowering her eye-brows as she looked at them. “What’s that?” she asked. 

Annastaria handed her one, taking her own and pulling the cork out of the top of it. “Voluum.” she said, “You must take some also.”

“What for?” Bastillina asked, taking the one given to her.

Annastaria drank her portion, wiped her mouth and replied, “It tames Corruption. Every master has a gift and a curse; we have the blessing of the gods to take hold of the world their counsel created… But we also endure the curse of our ancestors… It is called Corruption. The more you use your mastery, the more it takes hold of you.”

“This cures it?” Bastillina asked, pulling the cork from hers.

Annastaria smirked, “If only that were true. You cannot cure Corruption, girl… You can only prevent it from consuming you.”

Bastillina drank it, and took in the salty and sour taste. It wasn’t the worst thing she ever had, but there was much better for sure. After her face recovered from the sour taste, she gave out a small cough at the unsettling taste. “Does everyone have to take this stuff?” she asked.

“Only masters. Only we have the power of magic surging through us.”

“But I don’t feel any different, even after blowing up Leno’s pistol.”

“The effects of Corruption are slow. If you are only a novice master, you will notice even less. But as you use your mastery, you will begin to feel strange pokes under your skin, and sometimes even moments of quick pain.”

Bastillina began to think, and now that it was mentioned, she did remember after using her mastery, which was rare, she felt tingling sensations in her arms. After what she did to Leno, it was just like Annastaria had said, like little needles pricking her, from the inside. She looked at her right forearm, and could feel the pricking in it. “That’s what that feeling is?” the girl asked, with innocent curiosity, and through her Oenian accent.

“Yes.” Annastaria replied.

Bastillina went silent, and for a moment, felt as though something was crawling in her skin. A foreign entity that was racing through her veins. It was an unsettling feeling, and it created another question she had to ask. “What happens if… if we don’t take this voluum stuff?”

Annastaria, who was looking out the window in exhaustion, turned her eyes to Bastillina again and paused. It was a hesitant, and unsettling pause. “That is a question for another time, Bella.” she finally answered, leaning on the window and the back of her chair, closing her eyes, “For now, I need some rest.”

Bastillina obliged, but her mind was restless to the question, like her skin was restless to the Corruption within. She looked out the window again, and quickly her fear was satiated by the fresh sights she was seeing, of trees, and tall hills, perhaps even mountains. If this was just a small portion, what lay ahead? In Forik? What was this place Erene spoke of? What did it look like? And how far west would they go? The questions and possibilities seemed endless. 

Finally, she was going to get to have an adventure like the other kids, and what kind of future awaited her? Maybe she was going to get to be like them after all. What was best was that she didn’t have to finish school to do it. The gods presented her with a great blessing this day. School was so boring and were things to keep going as they were, Bastillina would have had no chance at the success her peers had. She couldn’t stand the curriculum, and she couldn’t stand church. Now she got to go past all of it, and see all the things that the teachers and preachers spoke about with her own eyes. What lay ahead, she could only dream about right now. For now, it was time to wonder what lay at the next stop.

Chapter Seven: The Girl With the Blue Eyes

Elise listened to the hum of the elevator, quietly, hearing the cables outside thump and bump around, feeling her weight push downward. It was only ten stories up, but every passing day, it seemed like the elevator ride got longer and longer. Finally, a beep, and her weight lifted as the elevator came to a stop. A second later, the metallic doors opened to a floor full of desks lined up to one another, and bodies dressed in suits moving around them all, some taking phone calls, others simply writing on their desks. She stepped out of the elevator, with a stride that demanded attention. A certain level of silence filled the room as she came in. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Bellerd.” she heard over and over, while others gave her the honor, “Good morning, Lieutenant Bellerd.” She smiled and greeted back. Though she knew behind it all was the desire to be noticed by someone like her, an officer in the unit. Elise could always tell who was there to do good and honorable work for the nation of their city, and the ones who were hoping to be in her place one day; she preferred the former to the ladder. Inevitably, she was approached by other operators on the floor she was on. One of which, a young man just out of university came next to her and greeted her with all mannerisms he could.

He stuttered slightly as he began to inform Elise of some case files, most of which she didn’t care to hear about this early. She had bigger things to worry about, and in particular, her superior in the agency who was carefully watching her operation in Levaan. Once the young man was finished, it seemed as though he was prepared to leave her be. “One more thing,” he said. In her mind, she was rolling her eyes, but allowed him to speak, “Special agent Dylen Oretes is waiting for you in your office. I guess you two know each other? I thought you should know.”

Elise stopped then, and turned to the man. “Really?” she asked, “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I thought I’d give you the heads-up. I’ll leave you to your business, ma’am.” With that, he returned to his work, leaving Elise free to approach her office. She started down the hall again, passing three doors before finally walking into hers which was on the right. Walking in, there was a window on the opposite wall to the door that looked out to east downtown and beyond. The window gave the most light to the room from the sun. Elise’s desk was to the left, facing the right-side wall. There, Elise saw special agent Dylen Oretes, a young, kamorjien man, with dark-textured fur. She couldn’t help a smile once she saw him as he was examining a lamp on her desk.

“That’s a five-hundred-dollar accident you’re fiddling with right there.” Elise joked.

Dylen smiled at the comment. “Well, I think you can afford to break a few things,” he replied.

“I can. You? Not so much.” 

Dylen set the lamp back on the desk as Elise came to shake his hand. A formal handshake was necessary, but once they shook, they both embraced in a firm hug. Elise had an expression of relief as she greeted him.

“How are things here?” he asked.

“Busy.” answered Elise, “Too busy. Got a captain breathing down my neck to make sure our current drug-busting operation goes smoothly and an office full of rookies right out of university trying to look like they know what they’re doing.”

Dylen smiled. Elise hadn’t changed, it seemed. “Same as ever, I see.” he said jokingly. Elise smiled as she walked around Dylen to go to her desk and begin looking through the files that were resting there. “How’s your husband?” he asked.

Elise nodded a few times before replying, “He’s doing well, actually.” She looked up at him. The smile wasn’t deceptive, nor did it hide anything. “Our last visit was on the twenty-second.” Elise continued, “And the cancer seems to have completely gone.”

“That’s excellent.” Dylen replied with a bright smile, “The gods have been answering my prayers.”

“It really is good news.” Elise echoed of Dylen’s own expression of joy, “Now he’s back to his old self.” she jokingly added. 

“Back to his old self?” Dylen responded, “You mean fixing things that don’t need to be fixed?”

Elise smiled at his humor and agreed, “I’m afraid so.”

An awkward silence followed. Elise wasn’t sure what to say for a moment, and then felt silly for not realizing what she ought to have said. “So what brings you down here?” Elise asked, “Not that I’ve got a problem, of course.”

Dylen wasn’t expecting the question, although he figured he ought to have, given they haven’t seen each other in some time, and his sudden reappearance would only make such a question even more likely. “I’ve been transferred… reassigned, to be more precise.” he answered. 

Elise was curious. “What for?” she asked. 

Dylen looked around, as if to try and catch something in the air that would help him explain his situation. “It’s sort of personal.” he said, somewhat hesitantly. 

Elise paused her file-sorting to look at Dylen directly, “Why is that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Dylen shrugged with a sigh and replied, “Had an issue with another guy in my division back up in Cymroyl.” 

“Really? I’m sorry to hear about that.”

 “It’s no big deal.” Dylen dismissed, hands casually in his pockets, “I figured the best thing to do was to get away from there. Tension in the workplace is… just not a good thing.”

He was hiding something, Elise could tell. And she knew she wasn’t going to get an answer out of him.

“Well…” she said, “If you ever want to talk about it, you know I’m here now.” 

Dylen smiled at her, knowing he could always count on Elise. She was like a big sister to him. She knew it, and liked to think of him in return as a younger brother. He welcomed her proposal kindly. “So what now?” Elise asked, returning to her file sorting, “You’re here in Levaan?”

“For now at least… I’ll be honest, I sort of requested it.”

Elise smirked, “Miss me that much?”

Dylen’s smile grew, “Actually it was the coffee across the street.” he joked, pointing his thumb behind himself, “It’s amazing, and I get it for free.”

Elise chuckled, “Wow. So much for the law, I see.”

“Hmph! No one’s breaking any laws. I’m just a nice guy and it pays for itself.” Elise could only smile irresistibly, and shake her head. “You should try it more often.” Dylen added, “Might earn you some good favors.”

“I’ll pass.” 

“Oh come on, Elise.” he jabbed, “You must’ve mellowed out a little bit since I’ve been gone.”

“If I were to try and ‘be nice’ I’m afraid some weird guy at the coffee shop would think I was flirting. I don’t need that on my conscience.” The humor began to fade away and another awkward silence followed.

“So what have you here?” Dylen asked as he focused on Elise’s files.

“Some case files I have to work through; others ready to deliver downstairs.” 

Dylen took a few in his hands to look at, helping himself. He quickly scanned through them, “Interesting.” he said, thinking out loud, “Need any help?”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s not a problem. I need something to do anyway.”

“Well… That would definitely free me up to some other important matters. Thank you.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get these to where they need to go. I’m headed downstairs to get my free coffee, anyway.” he said as he walked towards the exit with the files. Elise shook her head with a smile on her face. 

“Don’t lose my files.” she said to him.

“Hey, you just worry about yourself. I’m going to tell the guy down there that you’re really cool and nice and deserve some free coffee too, and that you think he’s really amazing, and you stare at him from up here like a weirdo.”

He left Elise with another big grin on her face. She stopped for a second and contemplated Dylen’s return. A genuine surprise, and for once, one she didn’t realize she needed. How long he would be here, she didn’t know, but she was just happy to see him doing well. She stood up in a rare moment to simply enjoy it, and looked out the window, to a day that suddenly seemed brighter than normal, taking a deep breath and said to herself, “It’s going to be a good day… I can feel it.”…..

The morning sunlight beamed into Oden’s closed eyes, through the shades that failed to limit its glow. As he sat up, he heard footsteps coming from down the hall. He didn’t need to see him to know it was his good friend Dean, who was probably his only friend left in Carzat.

“Good morning.” Dean greeted as he came to the living room to see Oden. Oden greeted back. “I’m going to breakfast with Sharene. Care to join us?” Dean asked.

Oden smiled; breakfast with Dean was the best thing he could ask for right now, especially considering it would probably be the last. “I’m afraid I gotta go.” he said. 

Dean knew what that meant. Oden may try to hide much of his problems, but Dean knew him too well. “So what are you gonna do?” Dean asked. 

“Get out of the city, of course.” Oden replied as he stood up off the couch to get dressed. 

“I get that part, but normally people have a plan to do that.”

“Come on, Dean,” Oden said with a scoff, “you know me, I improvise as I go. The plan is to get out of the city. How to do that is something I’m working on.”

Dean looked down for a moment, pondering how to tell Oden the difficult truth he needed to hear. “Well, I can’t advise you to do that in good conscience.” Dean said, “The Intero is not a group to mess with. They’ll have half the thugs in Carzat looking for you by noon… Look, make a few calls. At least get an idea of where you’re going next and prepare yourself some contacts and resources. That’s the only way you’re going to survive this kind of thing, trust me.”

“And who the heck can I talk to, exactly?”

“I can call in some favors.” Dean said, hoping to convince Oden.

Oden sighed, “I don’t like this, Dean. Too many people are getting involved.”

“They don’t ask, you don’t tell. They’re good at this.”

“For their sake, I hope so. I don’t know who to trust right now, man.”

“So does that mean you’re going to take my advice?”

Oden paused, going back and forth with the idea. With the mess he was in, getting more and more people involved–especially people he didn’t know–was just too dangerous if not risky. If they knew what Oden had with him, there’s no telling what their reaction would be. Maybe friendly, maybe unfriendly. Even at that, getting more people involved would leave a bigger trail behind himself that the Intero could pick up on eventually. Maybe Oden was being paranoid, but either way, he always liked knowing people he was working with. “Fine.” he said, “I’m gonna try and make it to Whitehold by the end of the day. Got anyone there?”

“I sure do, my friend.” Dean said with a satisfied smile, “Let me make a few calls.” 

He went to his home phone, while Oden sat back to think about what he just allowed to happen. This didn’t feel right, as though he took a turn that was spontaneous, without thought, and he wondered where it would go. Still, that it was Dean helping him gave him some small dose of comfort.

As he waited, Oden looked around, and seeing Dean’s rather messy apartment, he noticed catalogs and newspapers on Dean’s coffee table in the living area. Oden reached and grabbed the paper and began skimming through article titles. There was stuff on cars for sale, apartments, housing, and the weather. Sports as well, and the hype for the next big World Masters Tournament coming later next year, a massive world-wide event where the greatest masters and champions come to fight and display their talent in various types of games. It was, to Oden, mostly master propaganda, but it was nevertheless enjoyable to watch. If only the nations that sent each of these masters to the games would hash out their differences through them, and not through war.

As Oden looked through, he came across an interesting article titled “Biomechanical Engineering: The Future of Human Evolution?” The title caught Oden’s curiosity. He began to read it, and saw that it was talking about biomechanical technology’s rise amidst this stage of the Industrial Era, aimed primarily at helping those who have lost limbs. This revolutionary technology could have a dramatic impact on the future of healthcare. The project, at this point, was under heavy experimentation; being tested on mostly military vets who had lost limbs in combat. From what Oden was reading, it was a developing success.

Dean finished his call and came to Oden, breaking his concentration. “Good news.” he said, optimistically, “I think I got you some help. I got a buddy in Whitehold, willing to help. He’ll get you set up and ready from there.”

“I suppose I owe you one, Dean.” Oden replied.

“Oh please,” Dean said, brushing off Oden’s offer, “it’s the least I could do. After what you’ve done for me? And Sharene?” 

Silence followed for a second, and Oden the nerd kicked in to kill the awkwardness. He raised the newspaper article, “See this article here?” he said.

Dean almost froze in awkward silence. He wasn’t really concerned with the news, especially tech stuff like Oden. “What’s that?” he asked, feigning interest.

“Biomechanical engineering is making a breakthrough. They think they’ll have functioning, neural-interfaced mechanical limbs within the next twenty years. That’s… incredible. The Industrial Era’s been pretty amazing so far.” 

Dean looked past Oden, out the window to see the smoke billowing from the factories a great distance away. “Not all of it is.” he seemed to mumble.

Oden turned to see the smoke rising as well. He knew what Dean meant. The cost of a progressive society was the world it burned, it seemed. At least to Dean. Oden wasn’t sure what to think. He turned back to Dean. “Yeah, well,” he began, “They’re actually looking to fix that, too. They say it’s new energy; cleaner and supposed to produce more power.”

“Well, that’ll be nice to see one day.” 

Oden agreed wholeheartedly. He also didn’t like what was happening to the environment due to the mass industrialization of modern society; the Industrial Era was a great era of history in Eldreon, but it was moving too fast for society to counter its wasteful elements. Another awkward silence followed. Whenever politics came up between Oden and Dean, a wall came up rather quickly. 

“Well,” said Oden, unable to take the silence anymore, “I suppose I have my ticket out of here, then. The more time I waste here, the more crap I’m stuck in.”

“Right.” agreed Dean, “In that case, I’ll need to tell Sharene that our breakfast will have to be put on hold. She’ll understand. You need to get out of here, asap.” Oden couldn’t agree more, and although he was still uncomfortable with this, he trusted Dean…..

Annastaria continued on her way through east Levaan, now on her own from this point. She did well to mind her own business, and keeping a low profile. The streets were busy with cars and people walking about the sidewalks. She passed store after store, with windows displaying their best products. It was like the markets in her own country, but with solid buildings, and large glass windows, as well as glowing signs, even in broad daylight.

This city was a city of giants. Annastaria had thought she had seen the most the west had to offer in the Industrial Era in Quote, and even in the northern Mennadesh towns. That assumption was towered over by the city of Levaan, with buildings that averaged over a hundred feet high, solid brick walls, and some with the architectural design inspired by the ancient peoples, something she read about extensively in her studies.

But it was one thing to read about it in the books. It was entirely different seeing the brown-textured towering structures themselves with her own eyes, structures that seemed to turn golden to the sun beaming upon them. She rode a bus that came over a hill, giving her a view of downtown Levaan to the southwest, and she could not help but gaze at the glory. These were mountains of a different nature. They were giants of the Industrial Era. The downtown buildings seemed like the nexus of Levaan, as if they themselves were objects of worship to the whole city, which gathered around them to pay honor to their wonder. As she looked, Annastaria couldn’t help but be reminded of the ancient literature and historical records containing art depictions of the structures within the Aaerogelden, which legend says contains the greatest temple in Eldreon, believed to stretch so high, it literally connected to the heavens above the world.

She also saw in the distant south, smoke billowing in numerous areas of the lower city. She couldn’t understand what it was for; it appeared as though great fires had broken out. Yet no one seemed alarmed by them. But also she remembered that burning fire produced black smoke. The smoke that came from these billows was white and sometimes gray in nature. The machines she remembered being called “airships” floated above the city. They were indeed as though ships whose sea was the sky. They were of different sizes, too, and some had signs, advertising food, clothing, cars, and other things Annastaria did not know about.

The bus came to a stop, just outside downtown, where she exited, taking with her a map from inside to find the train with it. She knew what Uramuun had told her, but the overwhelming sense of this city seemed to close in around her, not allowing her to think straight. This whole place was like constant white noise, berating all her senses like she had never felt before. Plus, she was sure that at this point, no one was suspicious of her, and with the mass amount of people in this city, she could easily disappear, even in public transportation like a train. It was simply a faster way through and out of the city.

Annastaria came out of the closed-in shell of the bus, which muffled the sounds of the outdoors, and she was immediately embraced by the vast openness of the city, and the clear sounds un-filtered by windows and metal from the bus. She still felt overwhelmed by the amount of people around her, all of mixed races. Most were aenmen, but she would often see kamorjien, dwarves and even elvish people. But they did not dress as though from the clans, nor did the kamorjien dress like the nomadic tribes. They dressed like the modern aenmen, with coats, pants, top-hats, dresses and jackets, all mostly black and gray, but many tan in different tones, and even some in maroon-colored clothing.

The people paid her little to no attention, leaving Annastaria to focus on absorbing the amount of information coming into her senses all at once. It was hard for her to think that only a few decades ago, this land was engulfed in darkness, then the Great World War, and after that, the devastating fall of the Ubyassen Empire.

It was chaotic, but not destructive, with crowds of people walking in various directions on wide sidewalks. The people kept to those sidewalks, while the engine cars, which came in many shapes and sizes, stayed in the roads. Annastaria saw countless signs all around her, on the buildings, both low and high, some being only as small as a block of wood, others larger than a bus, and some glowing, all trying to get her attention from one another. The smell was intense, filled with so many mixed things that Annastaria didn’t know what to think of. She tried to stay focused on keeping west, where she knew she had to go. To do that, she had to go through the heart of downtown.

She looked straight down a street, which would take her through the largest buildings in the city, and they were so tall, they frightened her. Even seeing them apart from pictures, she couldn’t comprehend their size, soaring up countless floors. How could anyone build such structures and they would not fall? She felt as though the closer she drew to them, the more they seemed to be falling. It almost felt like a challenge in and of itself to go forward, but she did, stumbling somewhat, and trying to keep herself from any unwanted attention. She managed to clear three blocks; it helped her from losing balance by not staring at the tall buildings. But that was hard to do, due to their sheer magnificence. 

Even with what she covered, she still did not get to the tallest buildings farther down the street. She was exhausted in a way she never thought she could be, and she stopped at a corner to rest on the wall of a smaller, but still tall building. It was another market-like place. She began to wonder how she was going to be able to make it through the rest of this grand hall of a downtown city, when she looked to her right, where there appeared to be, rather than a set of buildings lined up, an open area of some kind. Instead of buildings, it had grass, trees and even birds, with pathways leading through it, and concrete patios filled with long chairs to sit under the trees. Annastaria could hear water flowing through it as well, and she saw through the beautiful trees (with the fall colors showing) statues in the park that she herself did not recognize.

But outside the park a gathering was taking place, which seemed inordinate to the crowds she was normally seeing. This group of people who were gathered carried signs, saying things that spoke against the Magisterium, and the masters in general. The group of protesters, as she could see, were also engaged in talking to people walking by. They seemed peaceful by all means, but Annastaria somehow sensed there was anger in their eyes and voices, and in particular, the one who had a device that enhanced their voice that echoed throughout the valley of the buildings.

This puzzled Annastaria. She had thought that the aenmen dreamed about having the possession of magic, and the Magisterial order. They were corrupt in their hearts, lovers of power and wealth. She had read about and seen with her own eyes the evil that the aenmen had done with the power they had gained after the elves fell. She couldn’t seem to understand what could be at the heart of these aenmen, except perhaps their outrage that it wasn’t them who were in control. It was fruitless to try and understand. She was in a new kind of jungle, a labyrinth of human creation, and she needed to get out before she had a complete brain overload.

Though she managed to figure out the complexity of the map, looking at the watch given to her sent a panic through her skin. She should’ve been at the station by now–she only had minutes until the train left. She paced herself, while still trying to only walk and not panic. She went down a street less-busy than the others, with buildings less overwhelming to her, which was a nice change of pace, though she could not escape seeing people everywhere she turned, and cars every few seconds. It gave her a chance to think, and to decide to ask for help. She walked into the first corner store she saw, which seemed to sell snacks, and small conveniences. It was a fairly small store, with little traffic at this time.

“Good morning.” said the man at the desk.

“Hello,” she said to him, looking around for a moment, “I am a bit lost, and was wondering if you could help me.” 

“Of course.” he replied, sitting up from the clerk counter, welcoming her over.

Annastaria obliged, and set the map on the counter. “I am from out of town,” she said, “and I am trying to get to the train. I am not familiar with these maps… Do you know if I have done something wrong?” She pointed to where she believed they were.

“Sure,” he answered, “we’re actually not right here. You’ve got us confused with this area, which isn’t really too uncommon.” Annastaria felt a little embarrassment, but was glad to be corrected. It was better than realizing that she had completely lost her way. And as it turned out, she was not as far from the station as she feared. But she did need to hurry if she hoped to get to it on time. She thanked him for his help, and left the store, crossing the street at the corner.

As she came across, she heard a young voice call to her on her left, “Excuse me.” She halted her jog before she even got started, and turned to see a young boy wearing dirty clothes. He stood near the corner on the left, by a trash can surrounded by trash bags. He must have been no older than ten. “Can you help me?” the boy asked. 

Annastaria didn’t know what to say, but she couldn’t ignore a boy staring straight up at her. “Me?” she said. The boy responded with a nod. Annastaria looked around for a moment then slowly approached him. “What is it that you need?” she asked.

“I need some help with my shoes.” the boy said as Annastaria stopped in front of him. She looked down and saw his beaten shoes. His shoelaces were untied, dirty and torn to bits, likely due to being untied for so long. “I don’t know how to tie my shoes.”

Annastaria knelt down to him, getting a closer look. “You cannot tie these shoes,” she answered, “not with these old laces; they are too short.” She was both relieved and saddened that she couldn’t really help the boy. She remembered in her debriefing before she set off on this quest about the cruelty many of the lower classes endured in these large cities. Here was a prime example before her eyes, and it was just a boy. 

“Maybe you can help me get some?” the boy then asked, ambushing Annastaria with another burdensome request. That made things even more difficult for her now. She didn’t have time for that, but even so, her conscience was telling her to help anyway. She was going back and forth with herself in her mind, and stuttered, attempting to address the boy with something. 

But her thinking and stuttering stopped when she felt something moving on her from behind. She turned quickly to the anomaly, causing another young child to stumble and fall in front of her. She couldn’t make much of a gender from the tumble of the child, but she could most definitely see that it was a kid of some kind. Before anything else, the kid sprang to their feet and dashed off from the scene. Annastaria froze. It couldn’t be; surely that strange ‘feeling’ she had a moment ago was not unwelcome fingers in her backpack. Surely it was not the kid now running away as fast as they could. Annastaria snapped out of the paralysis, and removed her pack to see if the worst had come to pass. Her backpack had been unzipped. But this was only the beginning of the horror; one of the small pouches in her pack was untied and opened and a voluum potion missing, and even worse, some elvish blades that she could not allow anyone to see.

Her mouth dropped and a gasp almost escaped. But she quickly pulled herself together, and turned once to see if the boy was still there, and he was not. There was nothing left here, only to snatch the little thief who robbed her. Annastaria figured she ought to have expected such treachery, but not from kids. It was not merely a matter of theft that fueled her passionate distaste, nor a child who managed to fool her (which most certainly struck her pride), but it was the fact that what that child stole could not be found in these lands. If this was allowed to happen, Annastaria couldn’t imagine the scorn she would feel back home. She could never go back.

Her heart raced as she raced after the little thief. She had much ground to recover, having been caught entirely off guard by this young thief, who seemed to be a girl. She could barely see the quick movements of the child through the crowds as she sifted through and oftentimes even shoved them aside. Amidst the panic, Annastaria was somewhat impressed; the girl’s quick movement reminded her of her own athleticism. From what Annastaria could see as she herself closed in on her target, which by now was about fifteen feet away, it was a young girl with long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail. The little girl cut across the street, and deliberately into traffic. 

Annastaria felt a shiver of horror force a gasp out of her mouth as she watched the little girl run unhesitatingly into the street. Cars screeched to a halt, and horns blasted, beating Annastaria’s ears as the girl went right into the traffic coming in their direction, seemingly with the full intention of putting herself in such danger to better her chances of breaking Annastaria’s ability to follow her. Though Annastaria was momentarily paralyzed from the sight, and hesitated for a moment, she saw the young girl seemingly with ease move through the cars, whether they were moving or coming to sudden stand stills. She had to have done this many times.

Annastaria darted across the traffic herself, using the fact that they mostly stopped or slowed, making her own way across the street far easier. She shifted around and over hoods and cars, but one car nearly clipped her on the other side of the street as it came from around a car that was forced to stop by the thief that came first. Annastaria did not see the moving car until the last second and was forced to stop and attempt to pull her own momentum back to avoid the large, metal machine. Barely did she escape its way, and her only injury was to her ears from the loud horn by the passing car that nearly struck her as it flew by. The thief had now crossed the street and headed into a market building.

“Hey!” the exhausted and panicked young girl shouted at a group of thugs outside the entrance. They stood up from their relaxed positions, seeing the girl coming. She ran up to them in her panic. “The chick I just hacked–” she said, “she’s right there!” The girl pointed at the on-coming Annastaria. 

“Is that an… elf?” one of the thugs asked. “What on Eldreon have you done?” another one said.

“I didn’t know she was an elf! She looked aenman!” the girl defended herself, “Just take her out!” Annastaria closed quickly, prompting the little girl to retreat into the market entrance, while the group of thugs prepared to confront Annastaria; they used their numbers to surround her, causing her to stop. She saw the move and body language quickly, but maintained her calm. She stopped and stared down the middle-man, unintimidated by their attempt to overshadow her with their numbers and size. 

“Out of my way.” Annastaria demanded, showing no faintness in her eyes to their threat. These were mostly pathetic aenmen scum, beneath her respect.

“Can’t do that.” the middle man responded. “You best turn around and go back where you came from, missy. Else things get real bad for you.”

“I will not tell you again.” Annastaria said, taking no serious heed to the verbal threat as well as the physical threat. Her refusal to back down startled the thugs. The middle-man looked to his gang of five men, and she once more saw the body language he was sending. It was a signal and the men, on both flanks, went into action, as crowds of people gathered to spectate.

The first attack came from Annastaria’s right, which was a right-hook to blindside her. It was obvious and slow; she ducked under the blow and countered with a series of abdominal jabs all in a single second that paralyzed her attacker’s respiratory system. The next blow was from the left, and it was a metal pole, which Annastaria knew, if she did not dodge this, would deal serious damage. Fortunately, the fighting style of these thugs was poor and uncoordinated. So much so that the swing from the pole, when Annastaria ducked beneath it, came across and struck the man she just disabled with her jabs, knocking him out cold.

The remaining thugs were predictable for Annastaria, and were only annoying obstacles preventing her from the thief who stole from her. In just a few more seconds, she had them either tending wounds or unconscious. She looked towards the entrance, sure that she may have lost the girl, but was surprised to see she was staring at Annastaria through the front entrance glass door with her mouth dropped at how Annastaria took the whole group out so quickly and easily. The little girl then turned and fled further inside. Annastaria darted after her, throwing the door open in front of her.

Upon entering, she encountered four more thugs, attempting to cut her off. Two of them carried melee weapons, and the others attempted with their bare fists. The people in the entrance hall scattered, anticipating the coming brawl. Annastaria had no time to fight these men, certainly no time for subtlety. She charged them directly with fierce confidence that it startled even these larger men, each of them at least twice her size. But in the last second before Annastaria would swing her first attack, she leapt to her right and onto a small store counter, pressed off and swung a kick from the air, sending an airburst out at point blank, knocking all four men to the ground and on top of each other. Annastaria came back to the ground, and upon performing a roll, she carried her momentum onward further into the market. She did not lose sight of the fleeing thief, racing through crowds of people past more stores, shelves of food, souvenirs, and clothing.

The girl could cut corners well, but Annastaria was faster than her on long stretches, where no corners could be cut; she was gaining on the thief. The girl took a left, further into the market square, past more stalls and shops, trying to shove and knock people walking by to create obstacles for Annastaria that did no good. She jumped over and around the chaos, losing no ground in tailing the girl. Finally, the little girl came under a roof and took another sharp left turn, going inside a part of the market building. Annastaria came in after her, proceeding down an indoor hallway. 

As she did, two more thugs confronted Annastaria and attempted to threaten her if she did not stop. She heeded no warning as she closed in speedily upon them, while the little girl raced up a staircase. The first of them attempted to tackle Annastaria, but she dove forward under his reaching grasp, rolling to the ground and kicking the second thug in the gut as she did. The first who tried to tackle her was confused, as Annastaria seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye, and by the time he turned around, she blasted him with an airburst that sent him down the corridor.

“Leno!” cried out the girl as she came up the stairs, through a rundown hall, and into a series of rooms. His men standing in the hall stood out of their relaxed positions, startled by her coming through. But they knew who she was and did not stop her as she ran into Leno’s room, filled with more men. “Leno!” she said again, drawing everyone’s attention, including the man named Leno.

“Sir,” said one of the thugs upon the girl’s entrance, “It’s Bella.”

Leno stood out of his chair to confront her. “Shh!” he said over her shouting, “Shut your mouth, girl! You can’t go shouting my name around here!”

“Leno!” Bastillina answered, ignoring what he told her, “You gotta help me! I screwed up, I know, but–but the girl I just hacked, she’s coming after me!”

Leno froze for a moment, taking in the information which confused him. He shook it off, “Wait… a girl? Coming after you? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Leno,” said one of his men entering the room, “I just got a call from the boys downstairs. You ain’t gonna believe this, but they said some elf is coming up here–now–and she’s ploughing through all our guys to get here.”

Leno and the girl made eye contact immediately upon the news. His surprise turned to anger towards her. “Dammit, girl!” he scolded, “What the hell have you gotten yourself and now me into? Who did you piss off?”

“I don’t know! And I’m sorry! But here, look!” she stuttered, quickly showing him what she took from the elf in hopes that it would atone for climbing the belltower. It seemed to work as his rage satiated upon looking at what appeared to be a vial of voluum and a strange-looking case, which must have contained something unique inside. He had never seen it before, and it drew the attention of some of his other men.

“What the hell is that?” one asked.

“I don’t know…” Leno said slowly, as his mind was preoccupied with the case. He took it, looking at the vial, “But I know this is voluum.”

“Magic restorer?” another man replied, “What’s this girl doing with that?”

Leno snapped at the question, “She’s an elf! Which means she’s a master, so why wouldn’t she? The real question is what’s a master doing this far away from any magisterial temple?”

“What if she’s not alone?” said another of the men, “She could be… one of the Centauri?”

“It can’t be!” Bastillina rebuked, “She doesn’t look like one, and she was alone!” Her argument was only half one, the rest was wishful hope.

“Doesn’t matter!” Leno said, silencing everyone, “What matters is we got ourselves a fancy little elvish fiend at our door, thanks to your stupidity, Bella!” Bastillina recoiled in scorn as Leno continued, “And we gotta take her down. Everyone get ready!”

“Leno,” said one of his men, “should we call the cops?”

Leno paused for a moment, and realized the irony in the question, causing him to chuckle. “Sure,” he said, “why not?”

Annastaria was now up the flight of stairs and prepared to enter the hallway where Leno and his men were. She came to the corner, approaching slowly and listening to the arguing carefully. She could hear them yell at each other, and the movement of the men about the rooms, preparing for her entry. “Get ready!” one of them was heard commanding, “She’s coming!”

Annastaria focused her ears, listening to the fast movement of feet thumping on the floors, straining old wood as they moved upon it. It led her to believe that somehow, every room that she would turn the corner towards was likely filled with bad guys, and in her mind, she knew that if she went straight into their defense, they could surround her in this tight space, and she was having a difficult time seeing how even she was going to get out of that. She remembered some of Uramuun’s last words to her: Never charge directly into a fight.

Silence filled the air as the men down the hall prepared for the onslaught of whoever this elf was. They were set up in the entire hall, including every room within it. Leno owned every single one, and set the hall up for his central defense from anyone who threatened him. He had men posted in each one, as well as outside. If the men in the hall were shot or taken out, any enemies moving forward would then be ambushed by the men he had hidden and fortified within the other rooms. It was a perfect setup that Leno knew, even with what he heard so briefly about this elf, she could never overcome it. He had tested this strategy many times before, and no one had ever been able to get through, and every time, there were multiple attackers. This was just one. 

But it was at least a minute gone by now, and no sign of her was seen, and the longer it went, the more their eyes strained as they were glued to the end of the hall. With the speed she displayed, surely she would be upon them by now, but there was nothing but an unsettling silence. Leno peered out from his door down the hall to see what was happening, and was met with an unnatural stillness. Bastillina as well, stared carefully down the hall, feeling the air grow tight. One of Leno’s men looked back at him, unsure of what to do or think. Leno gave him a nudge, indicating to him to move forward, to that dreaded hall corner. Reluctantly, he and his partner approached the hall corner, where their elvish foe was supposed to appear from. Leno watched without distraction, feeling a twist in his gut. He knew he ought to be safe in his defensive position, but for some reason, this felt different. Even by the reported phone call, this did not seem like the average gang-banger, or even a police raid coming for him.

Seconds felt like minutes, when the two men came to the corner. They stopped, trying to grab hold of their breathing before they leaped out from around the corner. There was no one. The hall farther down was strangely even less welcoming. The noise levels below them seemed to grow louder, and they could even hear the police sirens outside. Thump! they heard, and felt through the ground, and a cry went out, washing them in a renewed panic. Eyes went to and fro for the source. Thump! again, shaking the floor. 

“What was that?” one of them said. 

Another short cry, or rather, a grunt; a struggle of some kind. A tumbling thump now. They couldn’t determine where it was coming from, but it sounded as if coming from one of Leno’s rooms. Another, and then a combination of thuds, breaking glass and thumps accompanying the groans. 

“In here!” the voice of one of Leno’s men shouted, his cry muffled by the thin walls.

The call and the sounds of thumps and thuds among the walls drew Leno’s men to the room like white blood cells. They burst in, and laid eyes on two of Leno’s men on the ground, either dead or unconscious, but one still awake, struggling to get up, his pistol nowhere to be seen. 

“What happened?” said one of the others as he went to the down’ed man , followed by three others.

“She came in through the bloody balcony!” said the injured man, “Did some kind of magic attack on Sims and Duke.”

“Are they… dead?”

“Agh… I don’t think so. The wench gave ‘em a good run-over though. She ain’t a skimp, that’s for sure”

Another group of thuds and cries of struggle in another one of the other rooms across the hall thundered through the floor and walls. Leno couldn’t believe it. Whoever this elf was, she was smart enough to bypass his entire setup. She must have been coming in through the windows. But if that was true, she was doing it at an unbelievable speed. Was there really just one? 

“You three!” he said to the remaining men around him, “In there! She’s in there!” he pointed at the room. 

The three of them hesitated, but ran in and saw two more of Leno’s men knocked unconscious. Instinct thrust them to the downed men’s aid, but a door flung open in the hall and smashed into the forehead of the one in front, dazing him. Out of it came the elf in a flurry.

Both of them were sent on heels, unable to even understand what she was doing. Though the walls between them in this narrow hall were no wider than four feet, she slipped around like air, tripping the first thug, and stepping on his face, with her weight breaking his nose as she spring forward after the second man. He raised his gun for a shot, but she kicked it away, and her other foot smashed into his face. Two more thugs rushed in as she was on the ground from the double-kick, but she darted out of the way in an instant as they aimed their pistols, and they shot their own men instead.

She dodged the gunshots, but the sounds of the shots she could not escape. Her head felt like it had been rung in a giant bell; her sensitive ears had never been so pulverized in her life. Dazed, Annastaria fled into the bathroom to her immediate right, holding her ears and stumbling into the room. The ringing, it stung, with a sharp, piercing sound that screeched itself deep into her ear and her brain. What was this strange magic? There was no time to wonder anymore; through her daze, she heard a shuffle of thuds through the ground, and angry voices–footsteps coming towards her. She swallowed, and felt the sting even in her throat. More of Leno’s men were about to overwhelm her. 

They barged into the bathroom to finish her off, but saw no elf, and only the second door to the bathroom burst open. By the time they realized it, Annastaria came back around the corner with a butterfly twist, blasting them out the doorway like ragdolls, tumbling and crashing into the thin walls on their way out. Finally, silence, if only for a moment. The ringing grew louder then, but she shook it off. No one came in after her; it was time to go on the offensive again. She charged out the door, immediately coming upon Leno’s remaining men in the hall as he and Bastillina retreated further into his main room.

It was all happening too fast for them to see, but they knew from the moans and aching cries of the last few thugs that they were hopelessly outmatched by whoever this elf was. Annastaria’s speed, agility, focus and quickness overwhelmed the rest of Leno’s men, cracking jaws and ribs with powerful kicks and magic airbursts to finish them off, until one final, loud thud, and then silence, the silence of defeat; the feeling that now nothing stood in this elf’s way. Leno looked at Bastillina for a moment, who stayed close to him. There was only one option at this point for him. 

Annastaria paused, examining the scene to see if anyone else dared to continue challenging her. Those that were still conscious, crawled away from her, licking their wounds like feral dogs. As the silence and calm swelled, she realized how heavily she was breathing; she took in a deep breath to control it, and a sharp sting blistered her left ear. Her face soured and she ground her teeth to the seething pain as she raised her hand to grip her pulsating ear. It hurt, but she wasn’t done yet. She looked ahead, to the last room, and choked down the pain, straightening herself out, and regaining her focus. Her breathing calmed as she stepped forward. Her ears were ringing, but she could still hear feet shuffling in the last room, and small grunts.

“Stop!” she heard a young female voice cry out.

The sound compelled Annastaria, and she pushed herself forward into the room, and saw Leno holding Bastillina hostage at gunpoint, towards the window, opposite the door.

“Stay back!” Leno shouted at her, keeping the gun at Bastillina’s head. The little thief from before did not seem like a thief anymore. She was scared, confused, and even perhaps innocent. Strangely, Annastaria felt pity for this scoundrel, and she couldn’t understand why; only that her sympathy for the girl kept her from blasting both of them out the open balcony door behind Leno. “I’m warning you!” Leno said, “You take one more step and I’ll kill her! I swear it!”

Bastillina couldn’t believe the words coming out of her uncle’s mouth. Would he really do it? Surely he wouldn’t!

“Give to me my stolen items.” Annastaria demanded, her hearing still struggling to clearly make out his words, “And I will from here leave. Those are my terms, and I will not go until they are met.”

Leno nearly slanted his head. This elf had an accent, and didn’t talk like most of the ‘modernized’ elves. But he had to put that to the side. “And what?” he said, “I let you go–just like that? Hmph! Sorry elf, I realize we all ‘ve done some improper things today, but you barged into my place and attacked my men. You don’t get to walk away from that, you understand? The blue boys are comin’, and they’re gonna take you down.”

“That will not happen.” Annastaria unhesitatingly rebutted, not relenting to stare him down like a hunter, “That thief has taken something from me. I will not leave until I have it returned.”

Leno paused, shaking with adrenaline. This elf wouldn’t budge. She didn’t even blink as she stared him down. She meant every word. “Then I suppose I’ll have to do this the ole’ fashion way.” he said, turning his pistol to Annastaria.

Bastillina was at once relieved and terrified; he wasn’t going to shoot her after all, but what of the elf? This whole thing wasn’t her fault. 

“Leno, don’t!” she shouted, pulling away to try and throw off his shot.

“Stop it, you little brat!” Leno scolded. Annastaria almost found an opening as he was distracted, but she hesitated.

“You can’t!” Bastillina said, “If you shoot her, you’ll ruin your entire deal with the police!”

A chill ran down Annastaria’s spine as Leno managed to get Bastillina to the ground. They were separated; her opportunity was there, but only for a second to deliver a perfect blow that would completely sever the two of them, allowing her to focus on him. She burst forward, and as he turned to her coming on his right, she leaped and pushed out her legs and feet that struck and sent him off Bastillina and tumbling to the ground into the wall.

Annastaria sprang to her feet while Leno struggled to recover, panicking. If he didn’t get up within the next second, this ravenous elf would be on top of him in less than a second. He threw up his right hand to shoot her, but was too late. She kicked away the gun. The gun went off as she did. Again, the seething pain, like a needle pushed into her ears, Annastaria stumbled, one hand on her left ear, the other trying to find something to hold onto to hold herself up. Leno watched, and he could almost smile as he stood up, and took aim with his revolver. “You dumb, little wench.” he grumbled.

Just as he was ready to pull the trigger, the gun went hot, and cold all at once. Bang! It exploded in Leno’s hand, riddling his hand and body with shrapnel from the exploded pistol. For a moment, Annastaria’s hemorrhaged head cleared, and her eyes went wide at the sight. A bolt of electricity, no, magic, struck Leno’s hand. As fast and piercing as the gun exploded into a moment of chaos, complete silence followed. Annastaria stood frozen, watching Leno, who paused in shock as he looked at his shredded hand, and then screamed as he dropped what remained of the pistol, gripping the bloodied hand with his other as streams of blood came down his arm, and he stumbled backwards to the couch behind himself.

Annastaria turned her gaze upward to Bastillina, who had an arm outstretched at Leno, with tears in her eyes, her chest taking in deep breaths. Did she do that?

Bastillina heard comotions downstairs, most likely the police. She looked at Annastaria picking herself up, and knew that if the police came in, she would be arrested. Watching Leno writhe in pain nearly consumed Bastillina. What had she done? What did she have to do? She knew what this meant. She knew what Leno would do if he survived. Part of her didn’t want him to live, and that part terrified her. Only one thing was clear: whoever this elf girl was, she needed to get out of this place. She was amazing, and was the only one who chased her relentlessly, caught her, and beat down anyone who got in her way. Bastillina swallowed her sorrow, and ran to help Annastaria up. “Come on!” she said, “You have to get out of here!”

“I will not leave without my things that you stole from me!” Annastaria demanded, recovering from the loud gunshots once more.

Bastillina looked frantically for it, and saw the voluum and case sitting on Leno’s table, snatching them and returning to Annastaria to take her by the hand. “Come on!” she insisted, and they raced out the door to lead her out.

They ran out the door, only to be halted by the sight of remnants of Leno’s men, waiting for them. Annastaria grabbed the little girl by the arm, and pulled her back behind her to finish these damned aenmen off. She spotted one raising his pistol. She had enough of these damned weapons. She lunged forward, and knocked his pistol away before he could even raise it, and with her other foot, she kicked him in the jaw, rendering him unconscious. The two-fold move put Annastaria on her back when another thug tried to strike her from above, but she rolled out of the way, and his melee weapon smashed into the floor. He swung it at her from her left as she rolled up, but she saw it, ducked, and drove a fist into his right thigh while it was flexed supporting his weight. He fell in a limp at the blow, but tried to keep fighting, swinging his melee weapon behind his right to strike Annastaria as she came on his right flank, but she grabbed the extended arm in a lock and forced him to the ground, where his face ploughed into the floor.

The last thug took aim with his pistol and opened fire. “Look out!” Bastillina shouted, but it was too late, the gun went off four times. 

But through the pounding gunshot sounds, Bastillina looked and saw that Annastaria had thrown out her right hand at the shots, and every bullet seemed to instead strike some kind of transparent aura shield that she produced from her right hand. Bastillina saw her eyes seem to emit some kind of glow as she did, but didn’t have time to pay attention. The thug fired off the last two shots in his revolver and they did him no good. In a desperate attempt, he went to throw his revolver at Annastaria, but she pulled back her right arm, and sent her left arm forward, blasting him with an airburst, sending him backwards and smashing through a closed room door.

It was silent again, save for the sounds of movement below. Bastillina heard  voices in communication, and knew the police were on their way up. “Follow me!” she said to Annastaria, “I know a better way out.”

The last thing Annastaria wanted was to trust this thief, who already baited her into a trap, but if she would lead her out, it was the only choice she had. She would deal with the injustice done to her later. Bastillina took her to a stairway behind the complex, and down it. It was rundown and cluttered with trash, and poor-looking people walking up it. Annastaria feared at any moment the police could come around a corner, and she figured that they ought to, but Bastillina pushed forward hastily, without hesitation, as if she knew this route. Maybe she used it before to escape authorities.

Finally, they came to a door, and through its window was clear sunlight and Bastillina ran through it, followed by Annastaria. They were outside in a back alley at this point, and could still hear sirens echo from the walls of the buildings. “This way.” Bastillina said, continuing to lead Annastaria through the alleys, which were of little difference from the inside of the market place they came from. Now Annastaria saw what seemed to lie behind all the glamor of the Industrial Era; the pits of this great city were infested with filth, living and nonliving. After a few more minutes, she stopped. They had to be well out of danger.

“That is far enough.” Annastaria said.

Bastillina stopped as well, as if Annastaria had some kind of leash on the girl that forced her to halt. “We’ve got to move!” Bastillina insisted, “They’ll be searching this whole place for us!”

“I can handle my own way from here.” Annastaria said, holding her hand out, “Now give to me the things you stole.” She waited for Bastillina, who stood still and stared at her with disdain for a moment. “Do not think that I am so foolish to have forgotten how I came to that dreaded place.” she added, looking the girl dead in the eye, through the girl’s defiant look. It had no sway with Annastaria.

Bastillina handed her the case and voluum vial. “Now go home.” Annastaria said, “You have caused me enough trouble.” Without another word, she turned and walked away. Bastillina listened to the sirens for a moment, turning around to them. Behind her was punishment, if not death. What was waiting for her was either torture by Leno, or a life running from him and the other gangs out here, which was just like before, but now even more desperate. She looked ahead at Annastaria walking away, and for some strange reason, the belltower came to mind.

“Wait!” Bastillina said, running up to her, “Can’t I go with you?”

“No, you cannot.” Annastaria replied.

“Please! I can’t go back there!”

“And why not? You belong in such a vile place, being what you are.”

“Please… I’m sorry for what I did to you. I only did it because I had to. I got in trouble with Leno, and he was going to turn me over if I didn’t pay him off somehow.”

Annastaria stopped and looked at her, “You stole from me because you had to? That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard.”

“It’s the truth! I don’t have anything–Leno was it, and… and I can’t go back there.”

“Do you not have parents? Are you people so decrepit that you do not have faithful parents?” Annastaria’s contempt had never found any outlet to unleash upon children, but she found herself venting it now on this girl. She was a petty thief, and the elvish scriptures had not made any distinction between gown and young thiefs. They were all equally criminal and worthy of the death penalty.

Bastillina paused, and looked away, which Annastaria noticed. “They’re gone.” she said softly, as if wounded by the question. The answer caused Annastaria to mentally step back, realizing she may have pressed too hard on this girl. But it did not soften her sternness on her decision towards the girl’s request.

“You cannot come with me.” she said, softer now in her tone, “It is for your own good.”

“My own good?” Bastillina said, nearly scoffing at the words, “And what’s my own good now? To go back there? Leno will kill me! He knows what I did, and I may as well be dead if I stay here.” She paused for a moment, retreating into the shadow of her words, looking down and away in shame. “I don’t… I don’t have a home.” she confessed.

Again, Annastaria felt a tug in her heart, or rather a sinking of it, and for some reason, she only now noticed this little girl’s eyes. They were of an abnormal blue, much like her own. They seemed almost like a kind of silver. It brought to mind what happened back in that room. “What you did,” Annastaria said, echoing Bastillina’s words, “what was that back there?”

Bastillina looked up at her, confused. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“You destroyed that man’s weapon. There was no one else in the room, and just as I saw the weapon explode, a bolt of magic came like an arrow to it… Girl, that was pure magic, a feat that even novice masters can rarely achieve… How did you do that?”

Bastillina became uncomfortable, and regretted mentioning what she did to Annastaria. “I… I don’t know,” she confessed, with a shrug of the shoulders, “I just… whenever I get angry, or scared… It’s like I can grab hold of things I can’t really grab.”

Annastaria paused, with the girl’s words echoing in her mind. She was definitely a master, but much of what she was describing was foreign to her. A master using raw emotion to channel magic? For a moment, she was curious, and now tempted by that curiosity to bring the girl with her. But the sirens they heard, brought back to mind that she would be in trouble with the law, taking a child without parental consent, and worst of all, what would her people think? She looked at Bella again. 

“You do not understand.” Annastaria said, almost pleading to the girl, “If you were to come with me–and I am not even considering that you are able to–you would be in grave danger. Where I am going is not safer for you.”

Bastillina shrugged, “And how is that any different than if I went back there?”

Annastaria was silenced again. The girl had a point. And once again, she looked into her eyes and they carried some weight to them that she could not understand. For some reason, all Annastaria could think about were the words that she had been given by an elder in her clan about always keeping a watchful eye for things in the world that felt heavier than they seemed. And Uramuun once spoke to the young acolytes in training, Annastaria herself being among them, of mysteries in the world, remnants of ancient legends that carry on even to the modern day. 

“The spiritual world, though it cannot be seen, nevertheless carries weight.” said her father once, “Always be watchful to the weight of something that you cannot see.”

She and the others didn’t really understand what Uramuun, nor her father were saying, but what she always took from it, was that she had to be vigilant about what she encountered in the world. Not all is as it seems. Was she getting the same feeling here?

Still, the realistic part of her knew she could not allow a child, let alone an aenman accompany her on this absolutely secret quest. This girl could not know of the quest, and Annastaria could not put her in such danger. But this rational thought was effortlessly overpowered by the thought that she could be allowing all that she had been told by wise men over her to entirely evade her. There was something about this girl, with blue eyes. What was it? Why was Annastaria struggling to say no? 

“Listen to me closely, girl.” Annastaria said sternly. Bastillina stood frozen and anxious as Annastaria looked around, pushing her next words out through hesitation, “Where I am going, you cannot come.” Bastillina’s eyes and face sank in despair. But Annastaria was not finished, “But I can take you to a place where you will be safer.” 

Bastillina’s face began to light up. “Right now?” she asked.

“Yes.” Annastaria said, sticking a finger in the air, “Yet you must understand one rule, and one rule only: You will do all that I say, and you will give no questions. You have sinned against me. You will consider your travel with me as payment for your crimes. Or I will turn you over to authorities that should rightly have you in chains.”

Bastillina could almost shout for joy, but she knew they were still in danger. “Thank you!” she said, ambushing Annastaria with a hug around her waist. Though a strange part of Annastaria wanted to enjoy the moment, she pushed the girl away, “Do not thank me so quickly. Remember, this is your debt payment to me.”

“Got it.” Bastillina said, “I am at your service.” 

She didn’t seem bothered at all by Annastaria’s demands, which Annastaria didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. Annastaria hated that she was okay with this, but part of her simply could not refuse to feel sympathy for this girl, and she didn’t know why. Why should she have pity for a thief? And an aenman thief? She began to think backwards farther and how she also was inclined to help aenmen, and young aenmen back in Mennadesh numerous times, and considered a possible truth that even she did not know about herself. What if Errnos was right? What if her aenman side was proving a weakness? 

“Oh,” Bastillina added, “and my name is Bastillina. Most people call me Bella.”

“Call me Erene.” Annastaria answered.

“Call you that?” Bastillina inquired, “Is that your real name?”

“I told you there will be no questions, did I not?”

“Right.” Bastillina said, smiling innocently, “Got it.”

“Good… Now, since you clearly know this city better than I, show me the way to the trainstation to leave in the direction of the west. We must leave immediately.”

Bastillina became even more excited. She was about to leave Levaan! But she had to shelf her eagerness for the time being, and help Erene get to the trains. “Come on.” she said, “Follow me.”

Agent Elise Bellerd was in her office, speaking on the phone with her supervisor, discussing some cases that were being finalized. Every minute on the phone with him was like walking on eggshells.. As much as Elise was grateful for her position in the SIU, and the benefits it brought to her and her husband, it nevertheless came with some major drawbacks. This was one of them. She missed the days of being out in the action itself. Maybe she should have expected this to eventually happen. Maybe it was for the best, given she was getting older. Still, she wasn’t that old yet.

As she relaxed in her chair, casually speaking on the phone, an office worker came in, along with agent Dylen. Elise noticed rather quickly the two were in a state of alarm. So much so, that they even quietly attempted to interrupt her call. She shooed them out of the room with strong hand gestures, unwilling to interrupt her supervisor in the middle of his sentence. But they did not relent. This must have been important. But what could be more important than this?

Finally, Elise was able to end the call with her superior. She realized this was an important matter, and managed to end the call. After she hung up the phone, she looked at the two, tossing her hands up, “What!?” she exclaimed. 

“We have a developing situation, ma’am.” the office worker said. His words ignored Elise’s rebuke, which caused her to go silent, “We got a call about an assault and altercation downtown, near the train station.”

This was what she was being interrupted for? Her temper only boiled, “So what? That’s a local police issue! Is this why you made me cut my conversation with the captain short? You know I can’t just let you interrupt me in a conversation with him, especially after what happened recently. I’m on thin ice as it is–”

“–Ma’am,” the agent interrupted, “It’s Leno.”

Elise froze, not even a blink, slapped in the face with the mention of that name and left stunned. She snapped out of it, stood out of her chair, grabbed her coat and started out the door, followed by Dylen.

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.

Something Calls From the West

Somewhere in the far northern Foregoth mountains, a horse rider raced across a valley, beneath thick clouds, and amidst a blistering cold. He stopped to catch his breath, and to wipe his face of the chill that pushed against his ride through the rocky, mountainous terrain, and he looked down upon the village of Darrael. A gust of wind chilled him, forcing a gasp from him as he turned quickly to the mountains he came from. A whisper? Some voice? His eyes searched what he could see of the mountain through the light, snowy fog, but he saw nothing, only gray, dead mountains covered in cold, lifeless snow, that peered down on him. It was like they were watching him, tracking him. He forced himself to turn around, back to the village, and after a quick ride through, he came to an inn. 

Once inside, he removed his thick hood to get a better look at the place: peace, and people. Still, there was something outside these wooden walls, stalking, like a lion in the tall grass, waiting for its moment. And yet, there were simple people within these walls, walls which encapsulated everyone inside with bliss by way of food, drink, the company of townsfolk and travelers, and a warm fireplace which dimly lit the place with a flickering, orange light. What if he brought doom on them all by coming here? The idea wouldn’t leave his mind, but he couldn’t afford to show such wild thoughts to anyone. He scanned the room in search of someone, but to no avail. He recognized no one, and there was no time to search himself. 

He turned to the bartender. “Is Ilsga here?” he asked, “I must see him.”

The bartender gave the young man a look over, “What business do you have with him?”

“I have to speak with him regarding some business. It’s urgent.”

The bartender paused, looking off for a moment as he thought. But his eyes returned to look back at the young horse rider, only with more skepticism in them. “He’s in the next room.” answered the bartender, “Having some drinks with a group. But don’t say you weren’t warned when you intrude upon his leisure time.”

“Don’t worry, I promise this will be something he’ll want to hear.”

The bartender wasn’t sure of the young man’s insistence, but sent him on his way, and he went to the next room, which was the second half of the main inn floor. After a moment of looking through the crowds, the young man spotted, in a corner table filled with men, Ilsga, a middle-aged man, speaking with them and having drinks and a few laughs. It took a moment of calming down from his own laughter for Ilsga to stop the horse rider, but when he did, his eyes and face froze, and his laughing smile shrinked. But he did not allow it to infect his entire face and manner in front of the others. “Mr. Redlic.” Ilsga said, pushing a cheerful tone through his momentary shock, “What brings you down here?”

“I believe I may have someone to buy my house, Mr. Ilsga.” the young man replied.

Ilsga swallowed, visibly, and was quiet.  The others weren’t sure what to do, as the moment turned awkward. “… I see.” said Ilsga. It was like the statement Redlic spoke sucked the laughter out of the room. “Gentlemen,” he continued, as he stood out of his seat suddenly, “I must tend to this.” He turned to look at them, putting his arm around Redlic’s shoulder with a confident smile, “Mr. Redlic here is hoping to begin some adventures as a mercenary with us out there, especially hoping to help fight for the Febian monarch pretty soon.”

“You picked a terrible time to be joining the mercenary world, young man.” said one of the men, “Going to fight for the Febian king is practically a death wish.”

“It can’t be that bad down there,” said another of them, “We’re only going to help him with crowd control, aren’t we?”

“If he has to be hiring mercenaries to do his bidding, it’s that bad. His own armies are deserting him, joining the revolution even, last I heard.”

“You hear a lot of things, don’t you?”

“Yes, and you would do well to heed them. The last time a monarch’s army began to desert him, an entire empire fell nearly overnight and engulfed all of Enussia with it, and that was only fifteen years ago. Mark my words, this revolution will be the end of the Febian monarch, and guess who will sweep in? The Enussian Union, of course, trying to collect all of the Enussian nations into one giant government.”

“In any case,” intervened Ilsga, before the conspiracy theories could continue further, “I must see to this situation as soon as possible, before the day gets too late. Time is money, no? I’ll be back in a few.”

Ilsga and Redlic left the men to a table for two, where they could talk one to one. He looked around, as if to be searching for anyone who might want to spy on them. “What have you got?” he asked quietly, in the midst of an inn full of loud patrons.

Redlic almost had to swallow down the impact of what he was about to speak to Ilsga. He didn’t think he would believe him. But the words had to come to light, “We have a code red.”

Ilsga nearly froze again at the words. “Gods…” he spoke with a hush, “Are you sure?”

“I checked with positions two, four and three to be sure, and we cross-examined our readings… It’s confirmed, Ilsga… We’ve found the readings we’ve been looking for.”

“I see…” said Ilsga, rubbing his beard while looking away for a moment to ponder, “Were you followed?” he asked, his eyes quickly setting back on Redlic.

Redlic shook his head, “I don’t believe so.”

Ilsga tilted his head, “That’s not reassuring, Redlic.”

“How could I have been followed? We’re alone out there–there’s no way anyone else can know about it. We need to move, now.”

“On that, we both agree… Where did you find the readings?”

“Several places pinged. One in Aorling, another in Mennix, but the most significant in Bokshaer.”

Ilsga paused again to think. “That doesn’t… make much sense.” he said, trying to reason it out in his mind and speak at the same time, “What do those places have to do with dark magic?”

Redlic shrugged, “Beats me. But you know just as well as me that this whole damned continent was overrun with the stuff not more than fifty years ago.”

“Of course, but… Why these places? Seems far too random.”

“You wanna know what isn’t random? Being out there with magic-detecting radars for months without finding anything that we were told to look for, and then suddenly, within a single afternoon, the readings we were looking for pop up in not one, but three different places.” 

Ilsga was silenced by the words. He had no way of arguing against that. It was time to change focus. “I see.” he began, “And you said the most significant was in Bokshaer? I wonder what the significance of that is.”

“I don’t know. But we need to contact Vessuur.”

Two days had passed, early before the sunrise. An open book lay upon a desk, amidst scattered papers and other books. This book took the center of the desk, and the center of the attention of Annastaria, whose eyes were fixed upon it, reading through the clean, white pages, bearing the elvish language lined across them. Every time Annastaria read from it, the style in which the words were printed was more than simple ink, but as though every line, every sentence, and every letter was a magical rune placement upon the pages. The edges of the pages were decorated with circular and spiral-like designs, and small leaves printed on some of the ends and edges of the lines, as though the book was to symbolically emerge from a tree. The same kind of art inspired the architecture of Annastaria’s room, and the home she lived in. Her caramel-colored hair was tied neatly in a bun behind her head, leaving just her wavy bangs and sideburn hairs to rest free, and she was dressed in brown, fur coating, meant to keep warm, but maintain mobility in the cold. She read the words within the book, in the ancient elvish,

“Out of the north comes my chosen one

Preparing the way out of the burning sun

In shadow and flame, out of the oppression of man

He shall unveil by fire the wickedness upon the land

My Child of Fire, she bears the tears of death

She will defeat the corruption with a new heart in her breast

But only in death can she live to defeat the darkness

To the glory of Artharos shall she be honored in Madaress.” -Edron 45:5-6.

A prophecy from the great high priest and prophet, Edron of the ancient elves. The first known prophecy of what the elves called “the Phoenix Child”, the one that they were waiting and looking for, who would destroy the curse of corruption upon magic in the world and end the dispersion of the elves, restoring the mighty kingdom. As a girl, she didn’t care much for these kinds of words; she was more interested in her duty as a member of the sacred elves. But as she grew older, the ancient words of prophecy became more real, like an ember flame that grew bigger and bigger, especially knowing what she had imprinted on her right forearm. She looked at the arm, which was covered in her fur clothing, wondering if she was that child. The thought scared her, and it was the fear of it that made her unwilling to confront anyone about her growing need to understand the passages about the Phoenix Child.

An energetic series of knocks came at her door. “Anne!” a female voice was heard speaking behind it, calling Annastaria by her shortened name. Annastaria recognized it without a second thought; it could be no one else but her sister Ellumar, obviously in haste to set off for the morning, minding not Annastaria’s morning meditation. “Hurry, sister! We must go now!”

Annastaria sighed, feeling as though someone pulled her chair out from under her. But she couldn’t complain entirely; she didn’t want to think about this prophecy anymore. Standing up, she went to the door and opened it to see her red-haired sister also dressed in fur-clothing, with her elven bow in her left hand, and quiver full of arrows secured on her back. “Are you ready to find us a paragott?” Ellumar said with a glowing smile.

Annastaria smiled back at her, “I am.”

The short affirmation by her was simple, yet it contained much meaning for her that Ellumar sensed when she spoke it; she saw it in Annastaria’s face as well as heard it in the tone of voice. She wanted to say something, but not now. Now they had to set out, for the sun would rise soon, and the paragotts often retreat to the caves deep in the mountains once the sun rises at the end of the summer season. 

The two left quietly from their father Clorrdes’s home, the elder and high priest of their tribe. Upon their horses they set off, going southwest, twenty miles from the clan forest into the Mugadai Hills. The air was cold, but for these elves, born and raised in these parts, they were built by the cold region. The clouds were gray and thick, and the wind howled constantly from the east. As they rode, there was an unsettling silence between the two of them, one Ellumar sensed. 

“Remember,” Ellumar said, breaking the silence, “paragotts are not the same as ordinary fawns. Their fur is lightly flaked with turquoise-tipped hair, and they bear yellow-tipped tails.”

“I remember, sister.” Annastaria replied. She pondered a moment, recalling certain stories about the paragotts, which were extremely rare creatures found mostly in the north. “I wonder if it’s true their fur radiates magic.” she said, “Like the stories say.”

“Nonsense.” Ellumar lightly scoffed, “You need to stop listening to Ghastrid and his foolish stories.”

“I didn’t get that from Ghastrid!” Annastaria argued back, with a poor attempt to convince her sister.

Ellumar giggled, “Dear sister. When are you going to learn you are a terrible liar? At least to me.”

Annastaria grew agitated by Ellumar’s patronizing attitude, which she had to put up with all her childhood, but she couldn’t deny the fact that her cheeks went warm, even in the cold.

“Ghastrid says all kinds of dumb things to try and make himself smarter than he really is.” Ellumar said, “In truth, the paragott’s fur contains myre crystals within them, highly valuable materials for anyone, whether it be elves, dwarves, kamorjien and of course the aenmen. What’s really sad is you don’t need to embellish the paragotts. They change colors in the moonlight, as well as in the dusk and dawn. During the day, they appear almost like any normal fawn, but when the sun rises and sleeps, they can change from purple, to turquoise.”

“And that’s why we’re going early, right? They’re best identified in the changing sunlight?”

Ellumar nodded with a confident smile, “Correct. Plus, they’re still basically like other deer, and usually run off into the woods somewhere during the day. The morning and evening times they’re more bold, and relaxed; most hunters are keeping warm in the early hours of the day. But not us. We’re made for the cold.”

Annastaria smiled. Confidence came from Ellumar’s words. She pondered a moment before she replied. “I just hope we’re careful enough this time.” said Annastaria, “Last time was…” 

Ellumar looked over and saw her sister pause. She knew what was weighing her mind down. “Don’t worry, sister.” Ellumar said.

“I know… I just hope your plan will work this time.”

“That’s not what I’m speaking of.”

Annastaria, as if dispelled from a trance, looked to her sister. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I know your mind right now. This is a great opportunity for you.”

“It’s not for both of us?”

“Indeed it is… But I know why for you it is especially important.” Ellumar thought for a moment on what to say next. She knew this was a sensitive area for Annastaria that she was going into. But she cared too much for her not to say it. “You must remember, sister… don’t see this as proving your place here.”

“I never said such a thing.” Annastaria said back.

Ellumar’s smile grew as she saw her sister try to play dumb. “I know you too well, sister. You’ve been given so much in this place, despite not being fully elvish. You of all of us have the greatest privilege, and yet you refuse it more than any in all the dangers you throw yourself into. I know why you do it, and I want you to know, sister… you are one of us, you always will be.”

Annastaria looked away. “It’s easy for you to say.” she replied, “You were born here. This, by right, is your destiny. Where was I born?” 

Ellumar didn’t know what to say. No one she knew took the Celestial and Covenant Doctrine of the elves more seriously than Annastaria. And yet, there was no one she wished more would take it seriously than Annastaria. “Just because you’re not pure elvish,” said Ellumar, “doesn’t mean you’re not one of us… And just because you weren’t born here, doesn’t mean your destiny is not this place.”

“Then what is?” said Annastaria, looking at Ellumar with distant eyes.

Ellumar was momentarily more strained by Annastaria’s growing despair. But her mood turned ‘round again, and she smiled at her sister. “Let’s get to those woods,” she said, “and find out.” 

Annastaria paused, and felt her estrangement dissipate. She couldn’t tell if it was the words Ellumar spoke, or if it was simply her warm smile in the midst of the cold Sarke air. “But never forget,” Ellumar continued, “no matter what may happen, you are one of us. Don’t ever forget that, sister.”

Annastaria pondered once more on Ellumar’s convicting words. She truly spoke with concern and love for her sister. Annastaria did indeed throw herself into so much danger in her short life, risking death to prove she was not simply a privileged relic for the clans, and that what she hid under the sleeve on her arm did not make her special. But no matter how often she had to hear the words from Ellumar and her father, the spectre of this thing never went away, nor the spectre of the clan’s demands.

An hour had passed, and the sun crept through thick, cold clouds smeared across the young sky, which would often be rare for a cold region such as this, but it was in the tail end of the summer season, which granted the Sarke land more days of sunlight and warmth than normal. Its light beamed upon the gray mountains in the northwest, adding a faint, golden tint to the peaks. Out in the wilderness, where a light snow glittered in the air, young Ellumar moved cautiously, gently brushing against the wind-taken tall grass. She moved from the treeline to an open plain that stretched far to the hills in the east. There in the field, she saw it, the paragott that she and Annastaria had been hunting all morning. 

Only twenty feet away was Annastaria, moving just as Ellumar was. But her heart rate was faster than normal, even for a hunt. Something was wrong. She couldn’t control it, and the closer she got, the more she envisioned Ellumar getting even closer, with a cleaner shot than she had. Would Ellumar really take the kill? Surely she wouldn’t. Still, Annastaria couldn’t suppress the idea. And Ellumar didn’t even need to get too close; she had a longbow, while Annastaria had only her compact bow, meant for quick draw shots. Quick, but less accurate at longer ranges, and in this wind, she couldn’t risk a shot until she knew she was close. If Ellumar could kill it, and surely she could, why didn’t she? Her heart pounded even more, like a drum in her chest, ready to burst. She couldn’t risk it, and her foot-movement increased.

A few more careful steps closer to the unsuspecting paragott until Ellumar slowly drew back the arrow. She aimed for the leg, hoping to injure it so Annastaria could finish the job. Any normal, poorly-made aenman craft would croak and crack loudly at the pulling of the string and bending of the bow. But this was an elvish bow, made by the finest craftsmen in the northeast. The draw was smooth and nearly soundless. With her sharp elvish sight focused on the target, she adjusted her shot to compensate for her range and the wind, which was cold, and blew in from the east, against her face.

She took in one final breath, and let it out slowly when the paragott flung its head up. It was disturbed by a noise, a noise that she also heard. It was off in the distance, coming from the east. It was difficult to make out with the wind, as well as its distance, just barely making out from the fog of sound, but it began to sound as though gallops of some kind. Whatever it was, it was enough to startle the creature. Annastaria caught a gasp fleeing her lips–she couldn’t let the paragott get away. She threw caution, and rose up, twenty feet from the creature. 

Ellumar’s eyes widened as her heart rate spiked. Annastaria blew her shot. But it wasn’t lost yet; as Annastaria drew her arrow to fire, Ellumar adjusted, grabbing hold of her breathing. Just as the creature flew past Annastaria, who couldn’t get a shot in her panic, Ellumar held her shot, and held it.

“Ellumar!” Annastaria shouted, “It’s getting away! Shoot it!”

Finally, Ellumar released the arrow. It whistled through the air, slicing through the grass, striking the beast in the rear left thigh as it ran. It stumbled, and yelped but recovered and darted into the woods. “I got it’s leg!” Ellumar shouted, “Go after it!”

Annastaria raced into the woods after it, quickly fleeing into the trees, using her elvish hearing to triangulate the wisps of the creature as it flew through the trees. With the elevated vantage point, she spotted the paragott just for a second and dashed through the trees after it, with Ellumar somewhere behind. Annastaria spotted it again, and with her short bow, meant for quick, short-range releases, drew an arrow from the quiver on her back, setting herself upon two branches in a tripod stance, pulled and let loose. The arrow whistled through the air and struck the paragott in the rear left leg with Ellumar’s arrow. “I got it in the leg!” she shouted for Ellumar to hear.

Ellumar heard her sister’s words, and continued her pursuit, knowing it could only slow down from here. Annastaria channeled through the trees and their branches, like water finding its way around any obstacle in its path. In her eyes, moving about the trees was slow. She got close enough once more, and noticed the paragott losing speed due to the arrows. She was ahead of it now, and saw her chance to finish it off. Father would never forgive her for such a brash move, but she couldn’t let her prize and reward get away. She dropped from the trees to shoot it through the heart. Father would surely be angry with her for this if he found out. But he didn’t need to know, nor did Ellumar for that matter.

Once she dropped, the paragott tilted its head forward to charge into her. Annastaria fired, but was too late as the antlers came down and deflected the arrow; nothing prevented it from mauling Annastaria faster than she could get another arrow. She panicked and blasted the creature with an airburst, a magic-based, elemental attack that sent a burst of air outward from her proximity. The blast managed to blunt the creature’s charge, but spun it around, with its rear coming counter clockwise and slamming into Annastaria, knocking her off her feet and tumbling down a small slope.

The paragott recovered from the airburst and continued sprinting ahead. Annastaria shook off the daze, looking up, and saw it moving quickly to escape. She sprang to her feet, shaking off the small whiplash, gripping her bow again and was up in the trees once more within seconds to catch an overhead view of it. Ellumar had caught up, and looked to cut the creature off. “It’s moved west!” shouted Annastaria from the trees. Ellumar heard and adjusted her direction accordingly, listening carefully to the sound of the paragott moving through the trees.

Annastaria leaped through a gap in the trees, catching a branch with her hands and swinging herself to a taller tree, climbing up and through it just in time to see the parragott run down a bluff that went north into a deepened canyon, which made it more difficult for the two of them to track it, especially in its alertness. They both knew this place, which had an energetic river running through it towards the far end of the canyon, with water from above creeping down in multiple places from the mountains above. 

“It went into the canyon!” Annastaria called out to Ellumar.

Ellumar stopped to listen to the faint echoes from her sister. “Anne!” she called back, “Do not go in there alone! Please for the love of Kai, wait for me!”

Annastaria faintly heard her sister’s plea, obscured by the echoing river below, and the echoes from her voice conflating together. But she still heard her, and tried to convince herself she didn’t. She turned back to the canyon, feeling the pull to go in, but knowing it was unwise to. The paragott, if she knew anything at all, was attempting to hide, and possibly ambush its hunters, as they often do, especially when injured. Each passing second felt like a minute. She couldn’t lose the creature after having come so close. She could no longer tell where it was, as the river at the bottom, and the trickling of small waterfalls from above overtook the paragott’s own sounds. It was disappearing into the noise. She looked back once more. She could feel the need to hunt pull her down from the tree, and yet the need to heed Ellumar’s warning holding her within it. She began to scan the slope and the bluffs beneath her for a safe place to fall into. It went down about thirty feet, filled with luscious foliage throughout, and it was still dark in this area; the sun was nowhere near beaming light into this place. 

It was unbearable anymore; she could not return home empty-handed again, and with the shame of once more losing a paragott to the mockery of the others, who always saw her as a half-blood, pampered relic, an invalid royal, only accepted into the royal family of her adopted father because of her special abilities. It gnawed at her mind. Ellumar couldn’t be far behind; she dropped from the tree, and made her way down the slopes, sliding down even at certain points until she came next to the river that ran southwest. She prepared her small bow with another arrow, ready to pull fast and release. There was no turning back now. 

She had entered an arena, enclosed by the natural formation of the canyon and steep bluffs. The only way was forward now. She moved steadily through the canyon walls, going north, trying to control her breathing so as not to be heard too loudly, but also so that she might herself be focused on hearing whatever anomalies she could.

The paragott, if indeed it had gone this far, was going to attempt to hide due to its injuries, which meant that it was cornered, and that was when they were most dangerous. She swallowed once as she began to steadily realize what she had done. The tables between hunter and prey could change at any given moment were she not careful.

She was fortunate at least that the persistent sounds of trickling water bouncing off the canyon walls muffled her own footsteps, but it did not help her battle the insistence her mind bore on her, making her hear an unnatural trickling of rocks and thumps, and the sound of birds that startled her. It was just the world around her, she told herself, and she had to stay focused. Yet at the same time was a battle against tunnel vision that would prevent her from seeing an ambush. She reached the end of a narrow closing of two boulders, where the stream ran between, going past her, and she knew upon stepping out into the open area beyond them, where there was tall grass growing from the shallow stream, she could step out directly into an attack that could come from any direction. 

She would have to step through the narrow opening between the two boulders before her and drop into the water below, which would create a splash that would most surely, no matter how soft she attempted to make it, be heard throughout the canyon. She climbed through the opening, holding the arrow and bow together with her left hand. Apart from her current situation, it was a beautiful place, with the small, yellow-glowing fairies still fluttering about, illuminating anything they came within four feet of with a combination of blue, red and green colors. Ahead the canyon went deeper, and a waterfall to the left canyon wall was seen beyond a pile of fallen rocks. But in front of that, was the tall grass just seven feet in front of her, utterly obstructing her immediate field of vision. Anything could be hiding in there, even a frightened and panicking paragott.

She looked to the right, where a small shore of wet sand was steadily going up to the right and dry ground. It was best for her to try and leap towards that, to lessen the splash. She would have to be ready, within a second, to stretch her bow and arrow for a fast shot. She took in a deep breath and leaped off the jagged rock and struck the damp sand. It felt loud, it sounded loud, and within the second she struck the sand, she drew her bow once more and the arrow in place, ready to fire, looking all around herself for danger coming anywhere. She turned so quickly, gasping as she did, sinking in unstable nerves, that she lost track of left and right for a moment.

What was that? Waterfall? No–it was rising in a noise, and rapidly, closer and it rushed from behind her, like a wave from the ocean about to ambush. A gasp half-escaped her mouth before she choked it down, flipping around as she drew back the arrow and aimed to the right, where the sounds seemed to come from. It was a small group of bats. Just bats. Annastaria’s heart, for the first time since she fired the first shot, found a moment to rest. She took control of her breathing, and slowly relaxed her shot. 

Thundering hooves sprang her senses back to focus, and out of the shadows of the cave, the paragott came roaring out into what light she had to see it, charging her with its antlers ready to bludgeon. Annastaria had only a second to react and she jumped to her right as the creature roared past her, like a tumbling boulder. She was immediately confronted with the blow of the wind carrying the creature’s distinct smell. Annastaria leaped up and pulled her arrow back to fire, but even as fast as she rose up, the paragott was nowhere to be found. She heard it moan somewhere beyond the tall grass. She looked down briefly, and saw a trail of its red blood leading into the tall grass.

She was losing control of her breathing again, able to see her own breath in the cold air, which seemed thicker than she was comfortable with, obscuring her sight. She moved slowly towards the grass, arrow at the ready, but was prevented from going any farther by a pure fear of the paragott. This creature was in full-fighting mode, it wanted the fight now. As she stepped backwards, she allowed her panic to subside enough to notice through the grass, the glowing fairies were moving abnormally, as if to be avoiding something. They must’ve been reacting to the paragott moving in the grass. She didn’t need to go inside, she could use the fairies’ dispersing from the paragott to locate it. She drew back her arrow and took a moment to focus, and released it. It whistled into the grass, slicing through until the paragott yelped. A critical hit.

She froze as silence seemed to still the whole area, but only for a long, grueling moment. The area erupted to the sound of thunderous gallops which followed as from before. The fairies scattered almost out of the tall grass entirely as the paragott burst from them, straight towards Annastaria. Her eyes went wide, daring not to blink, and all she could think was to try and fire an airburst at it again. Like before she blasted the creature, blunting its charge, but this time her panic caused her airburst to miss a direct hit; the creature recovered, driving its antlers at her. She dropped her bow and grabbed two of the series of antlers to prevent them from completely mauling her as the creature threw her from the solid ground, and slammed her against one of the fallen rocks within the shallow pool. She gasped and grunted as the creature jerked up, left and right to rip her apart. The world around her disappeared; up and down, left or right didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered in her mind was the strength in her hands, and these jaws for antlers. 

Finally, it gave one powerful jerk to the left, throwing Annastaria like a ragdoll over ten feet away, tumbling across the dry ground. She struggled to her feet as fast as she could, drawing her belt blade as the paragott charged at her once again. She prepared herself for another terrifying and merciless battle with the jaws of the paragott’s antlers, her arms weak and shaking. But her hyper-focused eyes caught an arrow coming from the left, curving with the wind, straight into the paragott’s temple and out of its forehead just as it came within striking distance. Annastaria leaped to her left, out of the way, plunging her blade into its left cheek.

She fell once again, letting go of her blade as she did, and the paragott slammed to the ground. On her buttox, Annastaria backed up, taking the moment to remember how heavy she was breathing. She backed far enough until she felt safe enough to pick herself up. Ellumar came racing towards her with her bow in hand, also breathing heavily. “Anne!” she cried out, “Are you alright–did it hurt you?”

Annastaria looked at her for a moment, as if she had to take in the fact that her sister was really here, then at herself, “No… I-I don’t think so.”

The air calmed, like a pile of leaves blowing up and finally settling down, and the two of them looked at the dead paragott, approaching it slowly. It wasn’t breathing, nor moving in any way, and it’s blood began to contaminate the water. Another few seconds followed as they listened to each other’s breathing. And then, Ellumar let out a breath of excitement. “That was amazing!” she exclaimed, gripping Annastaria’s shoulder, “We’ve finally slain a paragott!” She retrieved her hand, looking at their dead trophy, and brushing the hand through her own hair. She could hardly stay still.

Annastaria smiled, but didn’t seem as excited as Ellumar. “That was quite a kill, sister.” she said calmly, “You are truly the best shot in the whole clan.”

Ellumar could sense the disappointment in Annastaria’s voice, and her own excitement came down slightly. She put a hand on Annastaria’s shoulder, now more calm. “Hey,” she said to her, “don’t think that way. See your blade in the head? You killed it.”

“I saw the arrow before my blade, Ellumar. I only struck the creature with my blade in the last second. It was dead before my blow. Plus, mine wasn’t a killing blow, I just pierced its cheek.”

“How can you know that?” Ellumar asked, chuckling slightly.

But Annastaria looked her in the eye, “I’ve killed many beasts before, Ellumar, and with my bow. I know what it’s like when they die. Your arrow killed it instantly.”

Ellumar paused, and her excitement was deflated by Annastaria’s loathing attitude. Annastaria was once more beating herself unnecessarily for things not going how she hoped. Especially given that Ellumar took the shot to save her sister. But Ellumar wasn’t about to let it ruin this. An idea came to mind. 

“You shall be the one who slew it.” she said, raising her spirit again. Only the two of them had witnessed it, and it could easily be said.

But Annastaria shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.” she replied.

“Why not? No one has to know.”

Annastaria smirked at Ellumar and said, “It’s against the creed, sister–you know that. You killed the paragott… You deserve the honor for it.”

Ellumar struggled for words. It didn’t matter to her who took it, even if she lied against the creed. She smiled again. “Okay then.” she said, “You shall be honored as the only reason I was able to slay it, sister. I was only able to do this because of you.” The words stung Ellumar in the heart. Annastaria was the one who struggled with the paragott, and her clothes had been torn by fighting bare-hands with it. Even to those that were able to kill a paragott, few could say that.

Annastaria smiled, looking at Ellumar, one Ellumar saw with more life. With the attention and focus taken off the dead paragott, both Annastaria and Ellumar now turned their focus to the galloping horses from before. The two girls would grow worrisome if the gallops were not accompanied by a special clanging of metal upon the buckles and straps. These were elvish riders and they were probably looking for the two of them.

Annastaria and Ellumar knew they would not be able to carry the paragott out. Luckily, they only needed some of its fur, which they took with them, out of the forest and to the plains they came from, where they began to hear the gallops again, and saw three riders approaching them from the eastern hills. Both girls waited patiently until they had arrived. 

“Hello lord and chief Uramuun.” Ellumar formally said to the lead rider, “What urgency brings you out here?”

“We have an urgent report from our agents in the west.” he said.

Both Annastaria and Ellumar looked at each other, and back at him. “With respect, lord chief,” Ellumar replied, “for what does this concern us?”

“It is in regard to Dredok Skies.” The girls once more froze, first to make sure they knew what they had just heard. 

“You mean… the call is made?” Annastaria managed to say.

“Yes.” Uramuun said plainly, “Something calls from the west. And we shall answer… The council has been summoned at once. Your father will be there, and he requests that you two be present.” Uramuun paused as his eyes turned to the fresh fur Ellumar had over her horse’s back. “Is that… a paragott hide?” he asked. Ellumar smiled and confirmed it. He couldn’t help a smile himself, even in this urgent situation, and a smiling Uramuun was a rare sight, and indeed, a sign of great favor. “And to whom might the glory of the kill go to?” he asked.

A short hesitation came from the two girls until Ellumar spoke, “It was Anne, lord chief.” Annastaria froze, yet again. Her heart rate, which was previously dropping as she caught her breath, made a sudden rise again, and she nearly blurted out to correct her sister. But something pushed it down until the moment passed. Ellumar looked at Annastaria and said, “She struck him with an arrow to the head. His carcass is at the end of the river in the Durdenne Canyon.” Looking back at Uramuun she was now more emboldened, “It was an amazing shot, lord chief! You should have witnessed it!”

Uramuun looked at Annastaria, who was wet and covered in dirt and torn clothing, and with a smirk on his face he said, “Well, young Annastaria… It appears the aenman blood has not completely crippled your abilities after all. Well done, child; you shall be rewarded mightily for this. And in no less a greater time than now. We shall be sure that your father knows of this before the end of our meeting.”

Annastaria hesitated again, realizing what had just been done, but feeling unable to speak her mind on it for some reason. It was easy to get away with; the only witness was more than willing to make the lie true, and it surely must raise her status among her peers and the other elders. But Annastaria didn’t know what to think about it anymore. “Thank you, lord chief.” she said. 

Uramuun nodded. “Come now.” he said, more serious once more, “We must leave for Ill’karren at once.” With the orders given, the group saddled up, and they rode a half-hour’s journey northeast to their clan’s main city, Ill’karren.