A Debt of Blood

[Misery]

A Debt of Blood
Prologue: The Sins of the Father

For nigh upon a millennium the six kingdoms of Earth remained at peace.

As the lives of men dwindled, and after them the lives of dwarves, the records of the wars long past slowly faded into memory, and then into myth and legend. Only the immortals, the Fae and the Elves remembered the dark times, when blood flowed so freely that it was like rivers upon the land, and the kingdoms of darkness lived in the open. Only Aurellius, the noblest king of men, was able to join the kingdoms to stave off the darkness before all of the true kingdoms of Earth were finally lost to the darkness once and for all. Near the entrance to the blackest pit of the underworld, Aurellius lead the intermixed forces of all of the kingdoms to victory, and gave his life as sacrifice in order to seal the underworld for all time. Aurellius' sacrifice was by no means the only on that day, but by far the noblest, for he took the blow that would have otherwise claimed the life of Taesius, King of the Elves.

It was this sacrifice that the Elves never forgot, and thus when Aegrius the Just assumed his father's throne once more, the Elves nominated the throne of man as the leader of the newly formed Great Council, a meeting of the Great Lords of the Kingdoms to ensure that the Great Calamity that had nearly fallen upon the Earth was never allowed to happen once again, and to ensure peace and trade between all of the kingdoms. Like his father, Aegrius' integrity and self sacrifice was truly the best of men, and he lead the Council's greatest works, and created the great roadways between the kingdoms, so that all could travel in peace and not fear brigands or those who would counteract the carefully crafted peace of all of the kingdoms.

And so the years passed. For the immortals the passage of time meant little, but for the kingdom of men, over one hundred men would assume the throne, the long line of Aurellius remained constant throughout, as did the loyalty of the Elves.

And so it was that the lords of the Elflands were there when Cruor, son of Cassius was crowned King, though not for all the same reason.

There had been a prophecy, hidden from the other kingdoms, that there would arise a man who held enough power to conquer all of the twelve kingdoms, but would be spawned from a cursed union of a king whose cruel shadow would scar the very Earth itself. There were those who believed that Cruor was the king spoken of in the prophecy, for upon his birth the very sky itself seemed devoid of stars, yet there were no clouds.

But Taesius, whose life had been saved so long ago rebuked the others, denying their traitorous beliefs. And for the first few years of Cruor's young rule it was Taesius who had his faith rewarded. Cruor sought a closer unity between all of the kingdoms than ever before, and brought forth the idea of embassies built by the kingdom of man to link the kingdoms instantly by teleportation crystals. Now meetings could be had in the space of a day rather than the near year long journey it took to go from one kingdom to the other by non magical means.

As Cruour's reign moved on it was noted by the Fae lords that Cruor himself did not seem to age as swiftly as those who had come before him. As he approached his fifties, Cruor's house grew larger and larger, and he begat 12 sons. Unlike their father, there was no outward virtuous appearance in his children. In fact, rumors said that each one was more cruel than the next. Cruor, unknown or uncaring of their reputations, dispatched his eldest 5 sons to each of the embassies to oversee relations between those of the other lands, which only served to make their cruelty and greed more known throughout the other kingdoms of men.

Still, it was not until Cruor's visit to the kingdom of the Elves before Taesius would allow his suspicions to influence his actions. For weeks there had been no word from either the lands of the Fae or the dwarflands, and contact with the Elves guarding the Great Seal had not been heard from in some time. When Cruor came through the portal connecting their worlds with a battalion of men, speaking of a need to have his magi enhance the portal for a grand feast in the honor of the Elves, Taesius finally acted upon his fears, the only thing that saved the Elf Lands from the days to come.

Whispering in secret to his most trusted messengers he had his wisest sages crack the teleportation crystal so that it would not be usable. When the king of men found out that the portal was unusable he threw himself into a rage the likes of which Taesius had never seen, and demanded his dispatch be escorted to the edge of the kingdom of men with the fastest horses that could be taken. Worse still, in the middle of the night Taesius was woken by aides due to a disturbance in the rooms that had been offered to the king. What Taesius saw there saddened his heart, and confirmed once and for all the fears of the other Elf Lords.

Cruor had, in his own drunken stupor, raped his own sister, the princess Emily, brutally. Through her sobs, Emily revealed that Cruors vitality was not due to his heritage, but rather a spell so old that it had been forbidden long before the dark times and the great war to seal the underworld. If both were willing, it would trade the life force of one creature with another. If both were not, however, the end result was death. Cruor's first wife had loved him so much that she had been willing to sacrifice her youth at his whim, and had met a short end after that. There was no doubt that he planned to do such again, as did his own children.

But what Cruor truly strove for was the immortality of the Elves or Fae, so that he could live eternally, without needing to seek another to feed from. Taesius was so grief stricken with the news that he broke the pact he had sealed with the kingdom of men long ago and ordered the death of Cruor. A bloody battle ensued, but with the sacrifices of many lives, Cruor managed to escape the Elven kingdom and vanished into the elf woods, setting the old wood ablaze behind him.

While the fire was contained, and Cruor chased out of the Elven woods, he lived and escaped into the kingdoms of man. By this time, Emily, hidden away by the Elves, had grown large with child, and demanded to keep it, even though to both Elves and men such a union was considered abomination. When Taesius demanded to know why, she told him of her brother's greatest fear, of a thirteenth child.

After the birth of his twelfth child, she explained, there had been unrest in one of the border towns near the Fae woods, where the mystics of men were most prominent. Fearing losing the power of the mystics under his command, Cruor rode himself to the town, beheaded it's leader, and claimed the leader's daughter for his pleasure slave. Unbeknownst to him, the woman had been a powerful sorceress, who, upon seeing him in his bed chamber, cast a powerful curse upon him, that the fruit he bore forth from this point on would hereby be poison to him, and would change the face of the world simply to destroy him and his works. For his transgression against her, Princess Emily swore to bear the child to term, in order to give even the smallest chance of the sorceress' curse a chance to come true.

Weeks before the child was due, a royal declaration was delivered to the Elves, declaring their race traitors and swearing to burn down the sacred woods if their leader was not surrendered to face trial for high treason. Taesius knew that there would be no peace between men and Elves, but that Cruor would clearly follow through on his threat to burn the Elven woods to the ground if he did not deliver himself. He knew that more than his hatred of the Elves, it was Taesius' order to kill him that wounded the king's pride, and that his justice would neither be swift nor merciful.

But given time, the kingdom of Elves could be saved.

In this dark time, the child was born, and Princess Emily took her own life shortly thereafter.

Taesius grieved for the loss of the young life, but shared her hope that the child born of such horrors might be the one spoken of in the prophecy who would hold the power to reshape the world. Rather than risk an eternity of torment at the hands of his enemy, Taesius instead cast the same forbidden spell upon the newborn child, exchanging an eternity for a single mortal life, and in the process giving the child he had named Calanon an eternity to gain the wisdom of the Elves before he tried to take on his father's wicked reign.

His life surrendered, Taesius rode alone to the kingdom of men and allowed himself to stand trial, leaving only a missive with the elf lords to explain his own actions.

The child, he claimed, had been lost to the wilds forever, and that no elf was to follow him, but rather to cast their post powerful protections around the Elven lands, and use the time he had bought them to hide the elvish lands from the world of men forever.

Calanon, not lost to the wilds at all, had been instead changed permanently to look like an Elven child, and gave him to an elvish mistress who was unable to produce one of her own, instructing her to offer him all the kindness in the world, for it was not said that the one who would come from the line of men would be a savior or a tyrant, and Taesius believed only by having the boy know true kindness could he understand what was sacred to protect.

Taesius was put on trial and thrown in the dungeons of men, where he was tormented until he managed to take his own life. But his sacrifice was not in vain, the elf lands were shielded under a powerful glamour that even the best of the mystics of men could not undo.

Calanon, the boy who would be an elf, lead a quiet and peaceful life, for the most part. Unfortunately, having never used the spell before, Taesius could not have known that the forbidden spell only transferred longevity and nothing more. While most Elves grew to adulthood slowly over the period of ninety years or more, Calanon grew rapidly, far out-sizing his peers, without understanding why...

But unknownst to the Elves, Cruors greed and corruption for power did not stop with his domination of the six kingdoms. Instead, after years he opened the great seal to the underworld, to make dealings with the denizens therein. And where the magics of men could not break the barrier of the Elves, demonic magic is far older, and more powerful...

[Misery]

Chapter 1: This was My Home

"DRAW!"

A line of elves drew their bows in perfect formation and timing, their bows sighing with the perfect amount of tension, their eyes locked on a target near a mile in the distance. Like their weaponry, their bodies were taut, and it would take a seasoned archer to even see the small imperfections in the way that they held themselves, which was perhaps why their instructor stared at them with cold eyes, seeming to take in every single inch of their forms, now and again moving to touch one so lightly that it looked as if he were tapping, so fine was the adjustments that he made to their postures, to their stances. Still, throughout each movement, there was a quiet un-shown smile, a light twinkle in his eyes that never faded with each movement.

Until he got to the end of the row.

Clearing his throat at the elf on the end, he stared down the elf with darkish hair on the end. Unlike the others, he had not even drawn his bow, not attempted to pull back his bow and prepare himself for shooting. He gave the instructor a helpless look, only to get one of resentment back as the instructor slowly crossed his arms. Closing his eyes tight, the elf took in a slow breath as he braced himself, and then nocking the arrow, exhaled and then drew in a breath as he pulled back the way that he had been instructed to, he pulled back the bow roughly, putting his force into balancing it. The key was balance, to put in all of your energy and wait until that perfect moment. He heard the bow start to sigh in the way that he expected, and he relaxed visibly as he pulled back further, as instructed, to the point where the bow would hold all of his energy-

A soft crack echoed through the air as the bow went slack in his hands, and the elf opened his eyes, trying to figure out what happened when the pain of it hit him. The side of his forehead and his fingertips were both a crimson red with new welts that had formed with the string of the bow had snapped violently under the strain. The elf tensed his hand with the agony and winced visibly, but didn't give voice to the cacophony of curses that were ringing through his head. He tried not to make the pain show on his face, even though he knew that it would.

Of all the classes that he hated, archery was by far the one he hated the most.

Opening his eyes he looked out in the distance. He couldn't even see the thrice damned target, even though none of the other students seemed to have the slightest problems with it, or hitting it. He had asked Suiadan about it once, asked him to shoot an arrow at one of the targets that they were supposed to see. After shooting 3, he had made the trek out and had been astounded to find that not only were there three arrows in the target, but they were in the smallest circle of the target as well. Suiadan had simply shrugged it off and said that each elf had their own talents, but the questions were there in his eyes the way they were with all of the elves, save for Mother, who seemed to accept any flaw, regardless of how embarrassing.

As he turned his eyes from the distance he looked at a row of elves now looking at him rather than aiming their bows. There were some smiles on some of their faces, and others stared at him as if they weren't certain if this wasn't an elaborate prank he had set up before class. Daermaethor and the two beside him simply rolled their eyes in what was completely unabashed disgust. The dark haired elf lowered his head before calmly setting down the bow he had broken, and then bowed his head to his instructor in apology. "I am sorry, I-..."

"That's enough, Calanon." Came the instructor's sharp reply, and the elf on the receiving end of it winced a little as he looked up at the instructor with bright amber eyes. Unlike the other elves who had softer, more beautiful eyes, Calanon had the 'eyes of the wolf' as Vanya would teasingly describe them. Mother had agreed with her and smiled upon hearing it, though Calanon had sworn he saw a little of the joy fade from her eyes when he had told her. Focused now on the instructor, he did not feel like the wolf at all, but rather like the bumbling ox that Daermaethor loved to describe him as. Swallowing, Calanon bowed his head and prepared for the worst. "Class is dismissed for the day. Calanon, you are to spend some time this evening reflecting upon why it is you fail."

Calanon winced lightly. He hated thinking about why it was that he failed. They acted as if it wasn't something that he did almost constantly, wonder why it was that he failed, wondered how to fix it. His lips tightening into a grim expression he nodded lightly, and calmly left the shooting platform, taking the steps down from the ladder so quickly that he nearly missed on and tripped. Sighing and taking a deep breath to calm himself, he started to move from the archery platform across the rope bridge that lead to one of the greater trees in the area. There were several archery ranges in this part of the woods, in order to get to his training session, he would need to head to the section of trees just north of here, where the swords bearers practiced.

"Ox! Hey OX!" a dark voice growled behind him. Unlike Calanon, Daermaethor and his two compatriots made almost no movement on the rope bridge as they crossed it, but Calanon could tell from how far away his voice was that he could at least get off of the bridge before Daer tried to shove him to the side of it so that he could threaten him with the fall. Balance was another one of those things that Calanon was not the master of like those in his classes. Like Mother, he tried to remind himself that it was partially due to the fact that they had spent as much time practicing it as he had been alive, but it was a small comfort when Daer and his gang decided to make his life difficult. "I'm talking to you, you fat Ox." Daer growled.

Calanon kept walking in silence, that was until he felt a sharp blow to the back of his knee, stepping forward to brace himself, managing to keep himself from falling flat on his face even as he saw Daer rounding him to give him that self satisfied smirk. "Well, it looks like even though oxen can't shoot arrows, they can bow to their superiors, the way that they should."

Daer was fair in features and in the hair. Unlike Calanon, his eyes were a deep chocolate hue that seemed to make the ladies in their classes swoon, but held none of their allure at this particular juncture. Daermaethor, like his friends and the other elves in the class Calanon had been in, was over eight decades old, though they still appeared to Calanon the way Calanon had looked 5 years previous, though far more slender and with the ageless features in the face that he had only just developed a few years ago when things had finally stopped... growing. At least he hoped so... given that he was already bigger than a fully grown elf, if not taller than most of them.

Daer, on the other hand, would grow for at least another twenty years, a full decade past the marrying age of elves. Still, despite being somewhat smaller, Calanon knew well enough to know that he was dangerous, and had spend more time training with weapons and in unarmed combat than Calanon could even remember. Part of that, of course, was why there was so much animosity. "I just don't understand, Ox. Why did they even put you in our class, other than perhaps to serve as the class mascot? Oh right, I remember, mommy managed to get you in it. How did she do that, I wonder?"

Calanon growled, and stood quickly up, shoving Daer and one of his friends out of the way. Calanon could hear the soft shuffle of feat that was the only warning before a punch flew at his face. He managed to deflect it, but another one came to his side, while something roughly pulled his feet out from underneath him. The kicks that followed it were swift, merciless, and seemingly unending. Calanon had seen Daer beating others in this fashion, and knew that these blows were meant to completely disable him...

All it seemed to do was make him madder. Growling he stood up, the fire in his yellow eyes as he stared at Daer, starting to move again even as the elf punched him hard in his stomach. Thankfully Calanon had managed to flex, the sheath of well formed abdominal muscles catching most of the blow, but it still pushed the air out of his lungs, causing him to grip his sides.

"You really are too stupid to know when to stay down, Ox. Sometimes I wonder how it is an elf can be born so large and stupid, but then I remember that your mother was so desperate for a child that she pretty much would have spread her legs for any-"

Daermaethor's nose broke with a satisfying crunch that was worth the pain in Calanon's knuckles. He stumbled back, shocked that his prey was not as stunned as expected, and Calanon used the surprise to dash forward and seize the elf by the throat, lifting him up off of his feet as the wolf eyes stared through him, filled with a dark and powerful rage. One of Daer's accomplices tried to grab at Calanon's arm but was roughly brushed off and thrown to his feet with a shrug from the bigger elf.

Calanon took a deep breath, feeling his rage start to wear off as Daer struggled impotently in his arms, but the moment he began to set him down he felt a familar pressure in his arm, and noticed a hand there, which then pushed the nerves in his wrist until he dropped Daer, only to get a sharp elbow in his chest hard enough to send him flying back off his feet rolling to the edge of the platform.

The dark haired elf didn't even need to look through the disheveled strands of hair to know that it was Arbellason, his sword instructor. Groaning, Calanon rubbed his chest to make sure that the seasoned elf hadn't broken a rib, something that had happened more than once in their training sessions. Arbellason had been a survivor of the War against the Darkness, and unlike others, had not forgotten the lessons that he had learned in it. It was whispered that Mother had called in a favor to have him train with the old knight, however it had been Arbellason himself that had suggested such a training, though Calanon knew not the reason why, only that Mother had said that Arbellason saw 'there was something special' about Calanon.

"Calanon of House Fael! What have I taught you about restraint?!" Arbellason snapped darkly.

"That it must... be used at all times, unless I intend to kill, or am defending myself." Calanon repeated by memory, grunting a little as he got to his feet.

"And your excuse for attacking these elves?"

"I didn't, they-"

"You could have killed them, Calanon. I am disappointed in you. You two, take him to the healers. I will deal with my wayward pupil's punishment myself."

Calanon set his jaw, opening his mouth to protest for a moment before setting it again and looking down. It wouldn't do any good to argue, Arbellason would not listen to him now anyway.

"I had expected that you might be late due to dallying with Vanya, not using the lessons I taught you in order to pick fights, Calanon." The old knight growled as he grabbed the dark haired elf by the arm and pulled him along with him. "You are going to do an extra hour of slices with each blade, just for that."

Calanon groaned inwardly, but knew enough to keep silent as they entered the training hut. Sighing as he picked up one of the elvish rapiers. It felt small and weak in his hands, like he was fighting with a stick, but he knew it could be deadly. Still, after a few moments of sparring it became clear that like most sessions, this training session wasn't going to go anywhere.

"I hate this... I'm just not cut out for fighting." Calanon said with a sigh, making as if to throw down the sword, only to catch the steely glare from Arbellason's eyes and think better of it. A weapon was to be respected, like an extension of oneself. It was just... when he fought with a rapier it didn't feel like he was fighting with himself.

"Try this, then." With a swift motion the elf reached behind him and tossed him a package that Calanon had to catch with both hands. Blinking at it he slowly unwrapped the soft cloth fabric to reveal a dingy looking blade that was rusted. As he tried to hold it Calanon blinked at how much heavier it was than the rapiers. It was more like the longswords that were used and yet it was heavier still. Calanon couldn't remember seeing anything like it before, but when he waved it around, it felt... right.

"What is it?"

"A weapon crafted by man." Arbellason growled.

Calanon nearly dropped the sword before remembering to respect it, even if it was... "W-why would I want to use something created by a race of betrayers?" Calanon said with a scowl.

"Because once their blood ran as noble as elves, and may do so again, Calanon." Arbellason's face seemed as if it could have been carved from the hardest stone at that point. "And a weapon is merely a weapon. Besides, you move smoother with it than you do any of the other swords I have given you. It seems that your muscles aren't all for show after all. Use it with the hacking motions. A broadsword is not used like a rapier, it is not about finess, it is made to cleave, made to cut through bone and armour alike."

Calanon moved with it, and was surprised at the flow of it. It did feel right, and surprisingly not as clunky as he might have expected. With it, his muscles could move, and felt like they were doing something, it was not simply waving about a twig, but rather an extension of his arm, an extension of who he was. He felt almost as if... he had touched such a thing before.

Blinking, he paused, staring at it. Had he weilded this weapon before?

Arbellason came up and put his hand on his shoulder, breaking his revarie, holding up a crystal. Calanon sighed, he hated meditation time, it was so incredibly boring...

"Look into it, Calanon... feel the crystal... let yourself meld with it until the two of you are inseparable, the same..."

Calanon's wolf eyes stared into the heart of the clear rock before him, watching the light of it pulse slowly. The more he watched it pulse, the more he could hear it starting to hum, feel it's vibration in the air. And then he was vibrating, like the crystal, everything was slowing...

Smoke filled the air, causing Calanon to cough as he blinked, looking around slowly, trying to find the source of it. In the side of the hut there was now a hole about the size of a man's chest, smoldering, and the broadsword he had been holding a moment ago was now buried into the wall a few feet from that. Calanon blinked, and then realized his chest hurt more now than it had previously. On the other side of the room, Arbellason was staring at him, he looked paler than he had before. His eyes were locked on Calanon in a way that made the dark haired elf shiver inside.

"What... what happened, Arbellason?" Calanon finally asked, and noted how the elder elf relaxed visibly at that.

"You fainted." The older elf growled, reaching up to pull the large sword out of the wall, seeming to struggle with it for a moment before finally getting it out. He handed it to Calanon as the dark haired elf got up. "You should eat better. Take this home with you and practice with it some before you see me again tonight, I don't want you fainting again."

Calanon nodded a little and looked at the hole. "But how..."

"There was a magic training a few trees over. Our training session is cancelled for today. Go home, Calanon." Arbellason said, cutting him off and pointed ot the door. Calanon opened his mouth to protest again but instead sighed and headed for the door, pausing outside of it to lean up against the side of the training lodge. As he stared up at the sky for a moment, he could have sworn he heard Arbellason say: "What have you done, Taesius?"

Rather than dwell on it though, Calanon made a quick escape for another tree. After all, if Arbellason caught him eavesdropping, who knew what he might do. That and his teacher had forgotten about his punishment earlier, which meant that he wouldn't be up all night in self reflection as well as practicing with all of the blades, something that Calanon hated.

Before he could make it home, however, he was ambushed by Vanya who, in what had become a standard greeting, leapt up on his shoulders from behind and hung there against his shoulders, pressing into the small of his back with her cheek. "Hello my love..." she whispered to him, though he had known it was her long before she had said a word.

"Vanya... if someone sees you like this you could get in trouble..." Calanon said softly, though he didn't make any motion to remove her, and was a little sad when she did it herself. Still, there were appearances to keep up, she was of House Naur, one of the most noble elvish houses, and her father was the right hand of the head of the High Council.

"You worry so much," Vanya said as she came in front of him. Her hair, like his own, was dark, but her eyes, unlike his, were the shade of spring leaves and glistened when she smiled at him the way she was now. She looked like Calanon had at sixteen years of age, even though she was far older, nearly thirty years from the marrying age. Calanon often wondered what would happen when she hit such an age, and he still had 40 years before he could marry her. They had only been together for nearly two years, he couldn't even fathom waiting another sixty seven... "Father knows I see you, and has caught us kissing before. You survived that..." Vanya whispered with a devilish smile as she claimed his lips, locking her arms around his neck.

Calanon groaned a little as she pressed to his chest, both because he enjoyed it and because his chest happened to be somewhat battered and bruised at the moment from Arbellason's punishment earlier. He knew if he mentioned it Vanya would offer to heal him, though he knew that it had more to do with wanting to be rid of his shirt at the moment.

"You should come with me tonight..." she whispered at him, sweet and sultry. "It has been so long since we have spent a night alone, wandering the south woods, with no one to worry about seeing us." The way she looked in his eyes made it hard to look away from them as she bit her lip and kissed him softly again, whispering against his lips. "I... I think I'm ready for it."

Calanon froze lightly, and blinked, looking around. While kissing could get him in trouble, talking about laying with one another before the sacred vows, that could get him in some serious trouble. There were elves who did it, of course. Calanon knew that his mother would approve of such a thing, even if not openly. But for Authion's daughter, Vanya, to do such a thing, and before her marrying age no less, would cause quite the scandal. Especially given that he was barely older than a child...

"We can't, Vanya, you know this..." Calanon said, feeling his thoughts stray to betray him even as he said it.

"Yes we can, and we both... know... you... want... it..." she said, teasing him with each word as her hand crept a little lower with each syllable.

Calanon shifted, and took her hands and put them back up on his chest, shaking his head lightly. Inwardly his body groaned at his mind's lack of compliance, but the risk was just too great.

"Please, Calanon, even if we don't do anything, walk with me tonight." Vanya said, staring at him, her eyes seeming to glass slightly.

"I... another night, my love. I promised Mother I would help her prepare for the feast tonight. The scouts say that Nieri will return by nightfall, and with guests weary from travel. Your father will expect you there as well..."

"He... he will understand, Calanon. Please..." Vanya pleaded again.

"Another night, I promise. Another night." he said. He could see the pain in her eyes and leaned down to kiss the top of her head, knowing she was upset with him. "I promise you, nothing will change in the space of one night."

Giving her a smile and a kiss, he promised her that he would see her at the feast, frowning a little at the way she just stared after him. He wondered if she was upset that she had offered him such a gift and he had not accepted it. Maybe... maybe when they did go for the walk, he should. It would make her happy, and it was not as if he didn't desire her that way...

As he entered his house, he paused and set the sword down in the entry way, calling out softly. "Mother, I'm home."

Laucamiluiel, the Lady of House Fael, seemed almost to glide down the steps towards him. As usual she wore pure white that almost blended in with her platinum hair that hung softly down her back. Unlike Calanon, her hair hung straight down, diverted only by a large clasp in the back of it that shaped the long flat stream of golden hair into a more contensed bundle which trailed down further still. "You are hurt." she said with a gentle sigh, before her greeting.

Calanon didn't fight it as she peeled off his shirt to reveal his bruises. She always seemed to be able to tell, regardless of how he tried to hide it, when he had even the slightest injury to him. Her hands glowed softly as she reached up to cup his cheeks, and he gasped a little as he felt her light pierce him, forcing flesh to reknit itself to the way that it had been. It was awe inspiring and yet uncomfortable at the same time, the way that his arm felt when he cut the blood flow off from it for too long.

But a moment later it was gone, and Calanon felt as new as he had this morning. Blinking a little he looked down at the rows of muscles that he usually kept hidden under loose flowing robes. Even Arbellason's muscles were not as big as Calanon's, nor was his body as bulky. Part of that, of course, was Mother's fault.

When Calanon had hit fifteen years of age, the Lady of House Fael had started to ask him to move things around the house. Heavy things. And it seemed that just when he had gotten used to moving one heavy thing, she would find something even heavier for him to lift, or hold some place so she could see how it would look there, only to move it a moment later. It had been torturous, but by the time he had turned sixteen years of age, his arms had nearly doubled in size, and that combined with all of the training she had him do had taken what had once been a gangly frame and turned it into something that was covered with muscles.

Not that Calanon could protest too much. After all, Vanya had not even noticed that he had existed until she had spotted him coming from a dip in the clear lake in the southern forests. Thankfully he had managed to get his trousers on before she had spotted him, but she had demanded that he not replace his shirt until she had gotten to touch his stomach. Touching had lead to a kiss, and a night spent walking and holding hands in the woods...

"What happened?" Laucamiluiel asked softly, breaking Calanon from his memories.

"I... the other elves hate me." Calanon said softly. "I am a monster to them."

Calanon swallowed as he saw his mother's face darken. "You are not a monster." Sighing, she touched his cheek and kissed his forehead. "Do you know what your name means in the old tongue? It means light. You are not a monster, you are a light in the darkness. You are hope, Calanon. You must never think of yourself as a monster, or as something to be hated?"

"But... what if I am?"

"You must trust in your heart that you are not, my beloved son." The Lady of House Fael whispered as she pulled him into a tight embrace, sighing against him. "Things were so much simpler when you were asking Neiri to marry you..."

Calanon went so crimson that he could feel his ears burning with rushing blood. "Mother! That... I was... I was thirteen years old then..." he protested as he pushed back from her lightly.

"Oh yes, I remember it well. I think Neiri was more embarrassed of it then than you are now..." she said with a light smile. "Just remember to dance with Vanya tonight after the feast, or she'll think that your heart has been stolen away by your first love..."

"Mother!" Calanon said again, blushing deeper.

"Now hurry along, and go help set up the feast for tonight, Neiri will be weary, and this should be the best meal she's had in a decade, even if her admirer has grown up and moved on..." Laucamiluiel said, gliding out of the room before Calanon could protest once again.

[Kathryn Lacey]

Dark, fae eyes peered through the darkness, their vision hazy. Her entire body ached, and parts of her screamed in pain though there was nothing to be done about it. Her naked, pale flesh, once so smooth and creamy was caked in dirt and in dried blood. Once long, white-gold hair had been sloppily sheared as another sign of her degradation, it was stained with crusted blood.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to string together coherent thoughts. How much time had passed? A day? A year? She had no recollection of that. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to die, but she also knew that she couldn’t die because she had a duty to do. Just what was that duty? Maybe she would remember another time. Right now, it wasn’t coming to her, but she knew she had something important that she had to do, and for now, that was enough for her to continue to live, to keep her soul from departing her body and this world no matter how difficult it was to continue.

A crack of light broke through the room from the door, and she huddled tighter into a corner, trying to hide though she didn’t have enough energy to glamour herself into visual nonexistence. Whenever that door opened, bad things came for her, and as her heart beat faster beneath her breath, she knew she didn’t want to go through it all again, but she knew she would survive it whatever the cost. They had threatened to disfigure her the next time, to cut the pointed tips from her ears, or had they already done it? So much of her hurt that she couldn’t tell. She lifted an emaciated limb to the side of her head, her too-thin fingers moving over the tops of her ears, feeling the familiar leaf-shape of them. They hadn’t done it yet, but she had no doubts they would.

The crack of light grew larger, and her heart pounded painfully and fiercely beneath her breast. What was she going to do? She was half starved, lacking strength, and lacking speed. They knew that, and they made sure she did, too, no matter how difficult it was to think sometimes. She tried to make herself as small as possible as the door opened even more.

A shape became silhouetted in the light, but it was too bright compared to the darkness in which she had learned to live. The light stung her eyes, and she was forced to look away. She heard shuffling as the shape entered the room and paused before making its way toward her. The girl clutched herself tighter. “Nieri Mahtar?” It whispered.

What were those words? They sounded so familiar, like an old friend from long ago in a far away place. Her dark, haunted eyes lifted toward the source, and she would have started had she had the energy to jerk her body in such a way. This one looked nothing like the others. It’s eyes were round and seemed to glow in the darkness. It had dark circles marking its face, and two, cat-like, furry ears were placed where rounded, furless ears should have been. Whiskers protruded from above its lips. Some distant memory informed her that this was one from the kingdom of Beastmen. Those who had tormented her also hated these people.

Was this an ally? No! It was a trick. Her head drooped, her eyes closing tightly, willing the illusion away. “Nieri Mahtar of the Kingdom of Elves?” It questioned her again, and a bit of the haze left her mind. That was her name, Nieri Mahtar. It had been so long since she’d heard it or even thought it.

“It is not real. It’s a trick.” The words left her parched throat as barely more than a whisper, nearly undetectable, but he must have heard for he crouched in front of her. His hand reached out to touch hers. His hands were covered in fur though the palm felt furless. Claws were visible where regular nails would have been.

“It is no trick. We have come to take you away from here, to give you freedom, free from pain.” His voice was soothing and sincere in ways she had not heard in what felt like an eternity. She looked at him again, and tears swam in her eyes.

“How long?” It was all she could manage to croak.

“It has been eighteen months since you were stolen from us.” He said. To him, it sounded like a long time, but she knew better. She would live far longer than a year and a half, but surviving this way, half alive, it had felt like half her life had passed by her. “Can you walk?” At this question, the tears finally fell, and she shook her head. She hardly had the energy to comprehend his words, let alone move from this place. She felt weak and useless.

She felt his arms slip under her and around her. Pain seared through her body, and she moaned weakly, but she did not protest as he lifted her. Nieri would be as light as feathers to him in her emaciated state. Naturally, her heritage gave her lightness of foot and of body, but this was altogether different. She felt the warmth of him against her unclothed skin, and she felt him swing his cloak over her, hiding her from view though it created a bulge in his attire.

He took her away from the cell and through the door. She was grateful that he had passed the cloak over her form, for she could see there was bright light in the corridor, and she could not have withstood it. “You have her?” A familiar, male voice asked, but she could not understand why the voice was familiar.

“Aye. She is weak, but she is alive, and she will recover.” She felt the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and she clung to his tunic more tightly. He was comforting to her though she could also feel his heart beating rapidly. He felt fear or excitement or both. She felt a hand press gently into her shoulder, a comforting gesture, presumably from the one who sounded familiar. As they moved, she saw the still boot of some unnamed person who was lying on the floor, still as if dead or unconscious. The boot resembled the style worn by her tormenters, and she felt no twinge of remorse at his fate.

Then they were running. Every step caused Nieri agony, but she had been through worse over the last eighteen months, and she would prevail over this pain as well. Two more seemed to join them, one voice was feminine, but they were friendly. The four – one carrying a fifth – ran as quickly as they could. Then they halted, and the sound of swords being drawn rang through the air. “Go! I will hold them off!” The second friendly voice she had heard that day, the one that had sounded so familiar, was the one that yelled. Her mind cleared a little, and a name came to her along with a face. Ohtar who had fair hair and kind, sea-blue eyes. She had known him since her own childhood, and she suddenly realized the implications of his staying behind to fight what sounded like many men. “No…” She whispered, but none seemed to hear her.

“Go!” He shouted more fiercely, and the three ran just as the clanging of blades meeting shook the night. It was only a short time before the pounding of feet against pavement turned to the whisper of feet on dirt and on grass. Eventually, she could hear the rustling of leaves on trees, and she knew she would be safe. Ohtar had sacrificed his life to save hers, and she would survive and live well, always remembering the great kindness he had done her as well as the kindness of the others who had risked their lives to rescue her from darkness.

---

Nieri Mahtar walked among a group of twenty. Her large eyes shown brilliantly in the light of the setting of the sun. They were dark and slightly slanted, but at times, one could view the changeling flecks of colour that speckled her irises, sometimes appearing to be blue, other times a smoky violet, and still others could see gold or green. These were the eyes she had inherited from her mother who had hailed from the Kingdom of Fae. In the light of the moon, certain angles would enable one to see the rainbow flecks most clearly, but none would be able to say what colour they became.

Her hair was plaited into a long, beautiful braid of white-gold that extended to the small of her back. Wisps had escaped the braid to frame her heart-shaped face. A smile passed over her full lips as a line of familiar trees came into sight as they scaled the top of a hill.

“We’re almost home!” A shout emitted next to her from Pilin, causing Nieri’s smile to widen and a cheer to move through the crowd. After ten short years, little would have changed, but that decade had been hard on all of them and they’d had little true rest. It would be wonderful to be home again, to see her family and her friends. With a small pang, she wondered if Hlaron had married Alyë. She had loved him, but he had not wanted her, for she was of lower birth and not as beautiful as Alyë, the girl of his political and romantic dreams. Perhaps she had been hasty to leave on her decade-long mission because of his rebuff, but the mission had been important, and she had seen it through. Now, she would return home as one of twenty-one heroes, all of whom could not help but to have been changed by their experiences despite the shortness of the time that had passed.

In the party of twenty-one, the majority were elves, but they had gathered one dwarf, two beastmen males and one female, and four faeries. Seven of the elves, the dwarf, the wolf-woman, and two of the faeries had been rescued from the Kingdom of Man, and the rest had simply joined the original six remaining elves in their quest to rescue as many of the repressed races as possible from the slavery and the torture men seemed all too willing to inflict upon them. Nieri was all too familiar with the punishments they inflicted upon those who were “less” than human.

Their pace seemed to increase as they entered the trees, ready to be home, to be among those they loved. Those who were not elf-born were just as eager, for they maintained a curiosity about the Kingdom of Elves or else they had visited once upon a time and longed to behold its beauty once more. Three scouts had been sent ahead of them to ensure nothing had gone wrong or would go wrong for them. They had already reported back to them that their way was clear and peaceful.

The full moon’s light rose and began to dapple the ground and the companions as it shone between the leaves of the trees, but the group saw it not as an omen of fear but of something beautiful. Full moons were sacred times for elves and for fae for the full moon held great power and light. After three hours of walking through this wonderland of night-time beauty, the capitol of the Elf Kingdom came into view along with a large group of elves who cheered loudly as they all came into sight. The group of journey-stained travelers cheered in return, lifting their arms as they did so.

“There will be a feast in your honor!” One of the elven High Council members exclaimed above the din. This garnered another cheer from both the travelers and from those who had come to greet them.

“Come now! We must get you washed and changed. I am sure you are weary from your travels.” A beautiful elf with raven hair led the five women away to a building where they had clothing ready for them while the fourteen men were led away by a male with hair the colour of rich, tree bark.

The women were sent to different chambers where another woman was waiting to help them get clean and dress. It was a little awkward for Nieri, having someone fawn over her. Ten years wasn’t long, but she had been taking care of herself for that decade, and having someone insisting on helping was just strange to her. She began by removing her weapons – her recurve bow, a quiver filled with arrows, and several knives – and placing them onto a table in the room. The fair-haired elf looked at these items like they were some foreign object that would curse her should she touch them. “Be careful with these; they’re valuable to me.” In fact, Nieri didn’t want the other female to touch them at all, but elves were graceful and they weren’t as careless as humans. She knew that her weapons wouldn’t be harmed.

She then proceeded to peel away her light armor, her boots, and her figure-hugging clothing until she stood naked in the room. Nieri heard a small gasp as the woman looked at her, and she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Nudity wasn’t anything strange, for all were born naked, but she knew exactly what had distressed her helper – the scars. All along her back and thighs were thin, raised scars. Scars were not considered attractive to elves as a society. Keeping one’s flesh clear and smooth and blemish-free was important, especially as a woman. However, it wasn’t as if the fae-elf had asked to be so terribly marred. It had simply been something terrible that had happened to her over the last decade. “I am sorry.” The blond elf apologized. “I was simply… taken off guard.”

Nieri said nothing, for what could she say? The helpful elf looked away from the white-haired elf as she led her to the bath where she could wash away the dirt of her travels. When she was clean, the other female brought her a beautiful gown of two pieces. She pulled a sea-foam green dress with silver trim over her head. It’s sleeves were long and ended in a V on the back of her hands, but the fabric was so light and airy that she would not be overly warm. Though she was not overly large in the chest, this dress allowed the swell of her breasts to be seen, accenting them elegantly. Then she pulled the second piece over her head. This was the colour of the sky at twilight. The sleeves cam over her shoulders and were bound at her biceps by a silver band at each arm before billowing around her arms and extending to her knees. The twilight blue fabric settled just under her breasts so that the sea-foam green dress could be seen beneath it, and there was an intricate design embroidered just along the abdomen. Long slits extended up either side that went from the floor to her thighs also to show the green beneath.

All in all, the effect evoked a simple beauty and elegance that befit her station yet still made her look beautiful. Finally, the female helper plaited a few well-placed braids in her hair and set a wreath of blue flowers with green stems upon her white-gold hair. The overall effect made it clear that Nieri was to be honored tonight, but she was not royalty. When the one who helped her had left, the one who remained pulled on her well-worn, leather boots and slipped one dagger into each. Even if she felt at peace and safe in this place, she would never go unarmed, no matter where she was.

She gazed into the looking glass, perceiving her image as if gazing upon a stranger. She’d had no need for mirrors for a long time, for there was rarely an excuse for her to need to look more like a lady than a warrior. Nieri may not have been as attractive as many of the elves in this kingdom, but she was a beauty in her own right, and her fae genes had given her an exotic look about her, namely in her eyes and hair.

Those eyes were the only thing that told of more than anything else about her. Though they were still beautiful, there was a darkness to them that spoke of those things she had seen and done and experienced. Perhaps one could only see that change if they were looking or if she was caught off guard, but it was there. It saddened her that her gaze should be so revealing, and she vowed to keep others from noticing if she could.

After one last glance in the mirror at herself, she left the chamber to attend the feast that was to be held in her companions’ and her honor. It wasn’t difficult to find a few the twenty-one who had accompanied them though they were scattered about the various tables. They all looked magnificent in various colours and apparel that worked well for their natural colouring and body types and races. Some were already eating which was understandable considering the fact that they’d had to ration their supplies for so long. Nieri, too, was ravenous, having been without food for half a day.

She searched the tables within the room, but before she could find a place to sit someone swiftly grabbed her from the side, wrapping their arms around her. “Nieri, it is so good to have you home!” The tension that had entered her body from what she had instinctively thought may be an assault quickly fled from her. The familiar face of Tinwë, her aunt, greeted her. “We were so worried for you these last ten years. I am relieved to know you are well!” The woman pulled away from her niece and looked over her. Tinwë looked much like Nieri’s father had when he’d been alive: dark haired, angular bone structure, and vibrant blue eyes. She was taller than her niece by a few inches, and she had a more regal air about her. “Thank you. I am relieved to be home once more.” She replied, embracing the older female.

“Come sit with my husband and I, Nieri.” The two women moved toward a table where Ostomardo, Tinwë’s husband sat with others from his family. They ate and talked and laughed until Nieri had eaten as much as she desired. She had greatly missed the food of her homeland, and she had nearly forgotten how wonderful it tasted. Ostomardo began to relate an anecdote of something amusing his wife had done the other day.

It was then that she perceived something odd from the corner of her eye. A too-large figure for any elf, and none of her companions had been built in such a way. Nieri turned her head toward the figure who was walking toward the exit onto a balcony. She gently nudged her aunt. “Who is that?” She asked. The fae-elf had seen that the man was simply an unusually well-muscled elf, but she could not recall having ever seen him, and she would remember such a thing after only ten years away.

Her aunt’s lovely blue eyes moved toward the figure indicated, and a slightly dark look passed over her gaze. “Oh, that is Calanon Fael.” Nieri’s dark eyes widened.

“Are you certain?” She asked.

“Quite.” Replied Tinwë, but she seemed to not wish to speak of him any longer though Nieri could not think of why this would be. Instead, she excused herself and followed after him onto the balcony.

Her long-fingered hands pushed back the drapery that hid the terrace from view just enough to slip through the opening before allowing it fall behind her once more. She could see him gazing into the night, well-lit by the full moon. With his back turned toward her, she could not recognize anything about him, and she felt uncertain about her choice to approach him. However, she had watched over him several times before she had left, and she could not resist speaking with him.

Nieri knew that he aged rapidly, but to gain so many changes in only ten years was a shock even to her who had seen him grow from the time he was still a mere baby. There was delight in her voice as she spoke. “Calanon Fael, I never thought such a skinny youth could grow as you have!”

[Misery]

Sweat dripped a little down his forehead as the dark haired elf, haired tied back as best he could worked in the kitchens with the roasting meat. Though for elves, meat was something of a rare delicacy, they had been told that their guests would include beastmen and dwarves, and both races, along with Calanon himself, had quite the taste for meat. In fact, Calanon liked to have it every week when he could, though in the elvish woods there were many animals that were protected, and considered sacred to the people. Only on the edge of the barrier were the hunting grounds, where the larger, tastier boars could be found, as well as the brown elk that were alright to hunt in small numbers.

But given how long it took to travel there, most elves did not see it worth their time or trouble. Only Calanon really had a true tongue for meat anyway, and some elves did not partake of it at all, considering it something that only lower, more brutish species took part in. As such, when it came to cooking meat for feasts, Calanon had gained a particular reputation amongst the meat lovers in the Elven Kingdom as the best cook in the kingdom. Of course Calanon was the first to admit that he could not cook a proper vegetable dish to save his life. Most times that meant that when he was called in there was only a single beast to be cooked, and his involvement was minimal.

For tonight's celebration, however, there were several boars and deer, amongst other things. The hospitality of the elves, of course, was the stuff of legend, and to those who had traveled so far and endured so much, it was expected that for even a moment, they should have a moment of true respite to forget, and be merry. Calanon had heard whispers of what the human cities were like, and the stories that were told were so horrific they were beyond imagining. Public displays of torture and savagery, beheadings, and worse things still that happened behind closed doors. Calanon himself had been made enough to break Daer's nose, but he couldn't imagine being so angry with anyone that he would want to drag their broken body around town so that everyone could see it. The very thought of it sent shivers down his spine to imagine.

So Calanon, like the other elven cooks, cooked with all of his skill, as if he were cooking the meal that he would get to eat. As per instructions he seasoned one of the boars and one of the elk a little heftier for the dwarf who was to be amongst their number, for it was said that the dwarven tastes were dulled, and thus demanded a higher amount of seasoning in order to draw out the same flavor. Calanon frowned a little though as he looked at the faces of the elves who were turning the spits. While he could feel his stomach growling and was practically salivating at the idea of a fresh cooked meal of meat, most of them seemed to be put off by it, and did not look happy in the slightest to have been assigned this duty to help him.

Sighing, Calanon hoped that the old saying that people being able to taste the love that went into cooking wasn't true, or at the very least that his love of it would outshine the lack luster feelings of the people who were turning the spits. Still, as he cut off a piece of the meat and tasted it's succulent flavoring he had to admit that it was wonderful enough that it was worthy of a last meal. This would be what was expected of him by the High Council of Elves. Of course, as soon as he thought of that he thought of Vanya, and her words to him. Would she be at tonight's feast, or would she be off walking the woods, the way that she had been when the two of them had first met? A small part of him wondered if he hadn't made the wrong choice...

"You look lost in space, brother." Came the familiar voice of Suiadan said from behind him, clasping a hand on his back. "If it were any other elf, I would fear that daydreaming had caused them to lose sight of their duty, but with you I know that you fear damaging good meat more than you do a beating from Arbellason himself. Which reminds me, I hear you and that little vermin Daer got into a scuffle earlier..."

Like his father, Suiadan had a network of eyes and ears that Calanon could not concieve of. It seemed though that whenever anything interesting happened, Suiadan was the first to know. Of course, that was perhaps one of the things that scared Calanon the most, given that Suiadan happened to be the elder brother of Vanya. Still, if he had heard anything about his sister and the dark haired elf, the elder elf had kept it to himself, and perhaps even silenced some of the ones that were spread around, though Calanon couldn't be sure. Calanon knew though that Suiadan cared for his sister's happiness though, most of all, which was why the two of them had become fast friends.

"I'm certain that the dwarves and beastmen will be happy that you did not, but I am uncertain as to why you didn't take my sister up on her offer this evening, Calanon..." Suiadan said, pulling the dark haired dwarf aside.

It was a struggle to keep his golen eyes from widening as he felt his blood chill as if the deepest winter snows were running through it. "Offer?" Calanon said calmly, trying to play it as close to the vest as was possible. Suiadan couldn't possibly know about Vanya's real offer... or if he did, Calanon might be getting in more hot water now than if he had actually given in to Vanya's desires.

"For a walk in the woods this evening, brother. The full moon will make it very romantic." Suiadan said with a smile, ruffling the larger elf's hair. "What did you think I was speaking of?"

"I... my apologies, Suiadan, I did not eat well tonight, and even passed out during training today." Calanon said with a sigh. Suiadan's smile, while intended to be comforting, somehow only made him feel worse about the whole thing. "I fear that my head is not where it is supposed to be, though the food has not suffered." He said, offering his best friend a bit of a smile.

"I expected no less, brother, no less. Though now that the food is cooked, there still is time..." Suiadan said, trailing off.

"People talk enough as it is, especially given that you've taken to calling me 'brother', Suiadan."

"I think of you as a brother now, and when you and Vanya are wed, then it will be a truth that will come to pass. I know that my father can be intimidating, he is soon to be head of the High Council, after all. But he has met you, he likes you, my whole family does. We would not hurt her by denying her what is in her heart. But she is a fickle creature, brother, I would not crush her plans like this so often. Are you sure you will not change your mind?" Suiadan put both hands on Calanon's shoulders and looked at him as he asked this. The dark haired elf frowned for a second and shook his head.

"It is my duty to be here, and I will be expected. Vanya will understand." He said finally, looking down.

"Well, my father will appreciate your sense of duty, even if Vanya does not. I hope you are making the right choice though, brother." Suidan said, patting him one last time as he looked at the sky. "The hour grows late, are the roasts ready?"

"They are. And as such I must get ready for tonight's event." Calanon said with a smile, clasping Suiadan's shoulder. "I will try not to smile too broadly when I see the cadre of maidens swooning over you tonight."

Suiadan rolled his eyes. "There are certain advantages you have not being popular, Calanon. I hope you appreciate them. Now go prepare yourself."

When he arrived home he blinked, noting that there was a set of robes hanging near his room. As he went to them he touched them and blinked. They were softer than he had expected them to be, and felt perhaps as if they were made of some silken material. They were paler than moonlight, however, and beautiful to behold, especially given that they were trimmed with golden thread that Calanon knew was intended to bring out the color in his similarly colored eyes.

"It is exquisite." He said softly when he heard his mother behind him. Unlike most elves, she purposefully made enough noise around him so that he would hear her coming, as if she could tell that otherwise she might startle him. Then again, there were times Calanon was sure he could just feel her kindness radiating in a certain part of the house.

"I figured it would be a nice change." His mother offered softly, referring to his tendancy to wear dark brown and black colors. "Now you should hurry and bathe before the feast tonight. The last thing we want you smelling like is the kitchens." With a gentle push she guided him towards the bathing room, where a tub full of water had already been prepared.

Calanon was quick with his preparations, partially because he did not wish to be late for the event, and partially because he still remembered the smell of the cooking meat, and by this time his stomach was protesting him not being there already rather vocally. Clean once again, he blinked at how soft the robes were sliding into. As soft as they were on the outside they felt just as comfortable on the in, though they did not hold the same weight his normal clothing did, and thus made him feel more exposed.

Mother was dressed in darker robes, though they looked to be just as soft as his own, and the contrast brought out the soft shade of her hair marvelously as well as set her apart from Calanon as he escorted her into the grand hall where all of the dining was taking place. On several tables there were his roasts, though Calanon frowned to see that most of them had actually gone untouched. The beastmen did not seem to care for them at all, which Calanon just knew would be the talk of the town next week. It was quite often that he damaged a bow or made a fool of himself running over the rope bridges and nearly falling, it was not every day that he got to ruin part of a feast.

Thankfully the dwarf, at least, seemed to be eating and drinking his fill, and seemed quite delighted with the meal. Of course, given what was said about the dwarves, Calanon had to wonder if that didn't have something to do with the fact that his taste buds were not as acute as those of the Beastmen. Sitting down, he pulled up a plate and took some of the meat, taking what might be considered a smaller steak and putting it on his plate.

Normally he would have taken a larger cut, but given the crowd, at the flawless condition of his robes, he knew that he should eat carefully rather than freely. Around him he could hear talk of those who applauded Lord Naur, who had seen to much of the preparations of the evening at the leader of the Council's behest. There were others who assumed that Lord of House Naur might be soon replacing the current head of the council himself. Certainly he had the ambition for such things.

The meat itself tasted wonderful, but Calanon only ate enough to sate his hunger, and little more, finding his appetite having gone now that he considered the night something of a failure. Politely he sipped water, not even bothering to partake of the wine as he normally might have, and then politely excused himself when the time was right, gliding out quietly out the door as he heard the bands starting to play, and the elves cheerfully began to rise in order to dance along with the fanciful and bright music.

Calanon gently glided through some of them on their way to dance and instead went out to the balcony, looking out into the woods as he leaned against the railing. In the moonlight the outfit that he wore made him glow like a moon spirit, a steep contrast to his somewhat messy dark hair. He stared up at the moon, and wondered what it was that he had been thinking not going with Vanya tonight. Perhaps there was still time to join her out there after all rather than wasting his time here considering how he'd managed to mess things up in yet another way.

“Calanon Fael, I never thought such a skinny youth could grow as you have!” came a voice that made his back straighten. He didn't turn around for a moment, blinking as he stared out into the darkness. Then, bracing himself a little, he turned around slowly and looked into the eyes of what had once been a dream.

She had not changed.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, that she would be older now, or that something might have been different about her. But she was exactly how she had left him ten years ago when he had only been thirteen, gangly and awkward. Face to face with her now, he felt just as clumsy and silly as he had back then, even though he was far better built and no longer gangly at all.

"Lady Nieri of House Mahtar." He said, addressing her in a more formal way, as was custom to do with ones superiors. "You honor me..."

His golden eyes looked into hers quietly. Where once they had been almost comical, big and yellow and too big for his head now they looked like those of a predator staring at her, restless and dangerous at the same time, though that hardly would be the words to describe the rest of him. For his part, Calanon had almost hated her eyes as a child, for they were ever changing, and his awkward attempts to draw her portrait would inevitably come to a maddening halt when he tried to consider which shade of color to permanently give her eyes on canvas. It seemed almost as if to give them a single one would be an affront to her.

"I..." he started to say, and then frowned. "It is an... It is nice to see you once more, Lady-"

"Come now, Calanon, I am certain that Nieri did not sacrifice so much to be treated so formally." Suiadan's voice rang clear behind them as he walked out onto the balcony. He bowed his head lightly to the lady as was proper and smiled at her. "I fear my friend has been waiting all night to ask you to dance and is now having trouble just spitting out the question..."

Calanon shot Suiadan a glance, but then nodded lightly, then paused, hearing the music slow into a slower, closer dance. This was a dance for couples, not the merry prancing where one would change partners now and again. This would involve being much closer to Nieri than Calanon had intended. "My friend does not know when to give someone a chance to speak." Calanon said with a gentle forced smile, then stepped towards the female elf. "Will you do me the honor?" he asked, blinking in surprise as she assented.

"One moment..." he said, pulling Suiadan to the side. "Vanya will have your head for this if she finds out."

"Relax brother," Suiadan whispered back, "I do not fear my sister's wrath. And if these refugees should teach us anything it is that we should live for each moment, not dwell in fear. Go, and thank me on the morrow for forcing you to finally live out your childhood fantasy."

Calanon shot him a glare, but realizing it would be rude to talk to Suiadan rather than dance with Nieri, he quickly turned and offered his arm to her, moving out to the dance floor. As was the custom in the dance he drew close to her, touching his palm to hers as they slowly turned one way, then switched hands as they moved the next, his wolfish eyes never leaving her own.

"I... you look well, M'lady. It warms my heart to know you are safe." he said quietly.

[Kathryn Lacey]

Nieri walked through the woods of the forest with the elf she loved best, Hlaron of House Tulkas. He was beautiful with his long, rich brown hair and violet eyes. His bone structure was angular and attractive, and his body was leanly muscled. Despite the fact that she was superior at fighting and at tracking than him, he was desirable to her. Perhaps it was his intellectualism that appealed to her as well as his handsome face. Either way, she knew she wanted to spend eternity with him.

They laughed together as they walked, and he slung his arm around her shoulder. “Isn’t this perfect?” She asked after basking in his radiance for a moment. He squeezed her shoulder gently and nodded. She stopped walking, her heart thumping hard in her chest. She’d been waiting for the right moment to broach this subject, and now seemed perfect. The weather was clear and lovely, and they were happy in each others’ presence.

She took his hand in hers as his arm slid away from her shoulders. “We’ve known each other only a short time since I returned from the Fae Kingdom and you moved to the capitol thirteen years ago, but I feel a true connection with you.”

“Nieri, I-”

“No, let me finish.” She said softly to his interruption. Her changeling eyes moved to his pale ones. “I would spend my eternity with you if you would have me as your mate. Will you speak the sacred vows with me?”

A frown took over his lips, and his brow furrowed. “No, Nieri. I am truly sorry to hurt you, for you have been a good friend, but I have my sights set on Alyë of House Anar.” His words made her feel as if she had suddenly been held under water.

“The Head Councilwoman’s daughter?” The words came out like she didn’t have enough air in her lungs to speak them.

“Yes. You know I’ve had aspirations for the High Council for last decade, and marrying Alyë would help me. She is desirable for other reasons as well.” Nieri could no longer look him in the eye. Alyë Anar’s beauty was well renowned, and that combined with her higher birth were things with which the fae-elf could never compete.

“I wish you luck and joy in all your aspirations.” She said softly but sincerely, for she truly did love him. However, her agony at that juncture was such that she could hardly bear it, and she soon excused herself from his presence.

The following day, she heard from her blade instructor, Arbellason, about the mission which would require search and rescue missions to liberate the other races from the cruel clutches of men. She didn’t think on the mission any more than the fact that she was qualified, and it would take her from the Elf Kingdom for a time, so she accepted.

Two days after that, she went to the House of Fael to spend time with Laucamiluiel and her son Calanon. He was a sweet boy, and she enjoyed spending time with them both, and she wanted to see them again before she left in five days’ time. She was happy to be around them, and for a moment, she could almost forget her gloom about Hlaron’s rejection of her proposal.

However, something happened that caused the memory to sear through her all too strongly.

Calanon, gangly, dark haired boy of thirteen years who looked much older than any elf his age approached her. He would not meet her eyes, and when he spoke, it was so quiet than she had to listen carefully to hear the words he stammered.

"I... I... Lo-... Ah... W-w-would you do m-me the honor of b-being... of m-marrying me, N-Nieri?"

She didn’t take this lightly, perhaps because she had just received her own rejection and now must give this boy his or perhaps because she knew this sweet, kind boy well enough to know that he did not propose to gain attention or simply on a whim. At least, she knew that his boyhood crush was not a whim to him, and he would have had to gain a great deal of courage to overcome his shyness and to ask her such a serious question.

Nieri’s cheeks turned scarlet, and she tried to quickly think how she would respond. How terrible was it that she would have to deliver a similar fate to this child that had so recently been given to her? Was this how Hlaron had felt? No, of course not. He had his entire life planned, and he had likely never heard a rejection in his life. Even Alyë would not be able to resist him once he began to court her. At least she had two very legitimate reasons for rejecting Calanon’s offer that had nothing to do with ranking or with another suitor, but he would be hurt just the same.

Gently, she took the boy’s hands in her own. “I am very sorry, Calanon. While I am honored that you would choose me as your mate, it cannot be. You are not yet of marrying age, and I am leaving a few days hence to help the other races to escape the injustices of men. I would not presume to keep you tied to me when I cannot even be here, when I do not know how long I will be away, or if-" ...or if I will even return… Those last words would not come. They would frighten the boy, and she didn’t want him to worry about her, and if the truth was to be thought, she hadn’t given mind to the idea that she could be killed on this mission, either. Now that she did think about it, she thought that perhaps death would not be so bad, for she would not have to feel the sadness of her heart breaking nor break the heart of another. Nieri softly kissed his cheek. “You will find another, Calanon of House Fael, and she will be a good mate for you with whom you may spend your eternity.”

---

Instinctively, Nieri Mahtar’s smile faltered and her body tensed when she noted the tension that had moved through Calanon’s larger form at the sound of her voice. As one who had had to fight and to sneak, she’d had to recognize such things instantly or else terrible things would – and did – happen to her. He didn’t turn for a moment, and she wondered if she’d accidentally insulted him in some way. Perhaps his memory of her rejection of his marriage proposal ten years ago was still fresh in his mind, for it was only a short time ago by elven standards. Did it matter not that he had been a mere child of thirteen years no matter what age he looked at the time? Did it matter not that he was not of marrying age? Technically, he still was not though he looked as if he was. Surely even a short ten years would have permitted him to see that such a union would have not only been wrong but also improbable.

Finally, he turned, and she relaxed a little, allowing a small smile to turn the corners of her lips once more. Nieri sensed that he would not try to harm her, but he didn’t exactly look overjoyed to see her. It was difficult to assess what the look on his face truly meant. In fact, the more she looked upon his visage, the more disturbed she felt though it had nothing to do with the look upon its features so much as the features themselves.

In ten years, he had aged drastically. She’d been well educated on the way his aging worked – or at least, how it was assumed it worked – though a cause for it had never been found. His mother had simply accepted it and didn’t seem worried. However, seeing him as frequently as she did, the changes didn’t seem as drastic as they seemed tonight. Ten years had given him the face of a grown elf, past the age of ninety, though he could be no older than twenty-three. Would he continue to age so rapidly for the rest of his life? Would he live a mortal life like beastmen, dwarves, and humans?

Then he spoke and his voice was so formal, as if she was somehow above him, but this wasn’t true. His parents were fully elves which actually gave him a rank above hers. Though the fae were greatly respected by elves and vice-versa, having dual parentage of that sort was a bit of a taboo. Love had conquered that where her parents were concerned, and she had been the product of their union. The Lady Fael had never spoken of Calanon’s father to Nieri, but it was to be understood that the male had been an elf, for aside from his unusual bulk and strange eyes, Calanon had all of the trappings of an elf male. Nieri had the white hair, changeling eyes, and smaller leaf-shaped ears of her mother. Calanon had dark hair and larger pointed ears like any elf in the kingdom. His strange eyes and bulk could be attributed to the same genetic mutation that had caused him to age like a mortal rather than like a regular elf.

“The honor is mine, Calanon of House Fael.” She teased him by returning his overly formal greeting. They had been friends, and they still should be. Not enough time had passed for them to have grown so utterly proper.

As he spoke again, she heard a rustle of the balcony curtains, and she moved gracefully so that she would not have the one who came to the balcony at her back. Suiadan of House Naur entered and offered a bit of a quip to Calanon. She recognized him though they had never formally met. She’d heard his father had political aspirations, and the one time she had met the older male, he had seemed to care more about his public image than about his relationships with the elves themselves.

“Has he, now?” She asked the son of Naur when he informed her that Calanon had wanted to ask her to dance. She was not aware that he had even noticed her before she had sought him on this balcony. In fact, the look upon his face when he’d first turned toward her made her feel that the larger elf’s friend was setting him up.

Nieri recognized Calanon’s attempting to save face with both his friend and with her, and he formally asked her to dance. “It would be my pleasure to dance with you, my friend.” He looked surprised at her assent. His memory of the last time he saw her must still be as vivid in his mind as it was in hers, and she couldn’t blame him. Though he had aged considerably, deeper wounds were difficult to forget.

The fae-elf waited patiently while Calanon pulled his friend aside though it was clear to her that he was likely berating his friend for having practically forced him into a situation rather than giving him the chance to go through it freely. When he turned away from Suiadan, his movements seemed a bit stiff, and while it was likely that it was due to his friend’s coercion, it could also be that the large male felt awkward being so close to one he had once claimed to love.

Nieri smiled and slipped her limb around his offered arm, and they walked to the dance floor where a sweet, slow melody was playing. They assumed the starting position, him bowing to her and her curtsying to him before they each rose their right hands and moved in a circle, palm-to-palm. His skin was warm against hers, and his eyes looked into hers with an odd intensity. There was a strangeness about his eyes that could have frightened another, an almost predatory look that was likely due to their golden colour. As they finished their second revolution with the opposite palms from which they started, both their hands lifted to touch palms in another revolution. It was easy to forget that this grown-looking elf was still a boy, so greatly had he aged and so deep was his gaze.

They parted for a breath before coming together once more, his left hand sliding into her right one, and his right hand sliding to the small of her back while her left hand moved to his broad shoulder. The sincerity in his voice when he expressed his relief at her being safe warmed her heart. It meant they truly were still friends, and they could continue to be such.

“Thank you, Calanon. Your words mean much to me.” After all through which she’d gone, knowing people still cared for her on more than a superficial level was important to her. She’d become close with those who had been in her party, but it was important to be close to those who weren’t bonded to her by the blood they’d shed together or the lives they’d all witnessed being lost.

Her eyes never strayed from his as they danced, and she found herself having fun in the presence of her friend. “It seems as if you have become, overnight, i vëaner.” A man. “Surely you have attracted many a lovely elf from which to choose to speak the sacred vows when you come of age?”

[Misery]

Calanon's eyes were on Nieri almost the entire time that she was before him. It was hard to look away from her. There had been so many dreams, so many hopes, small childish fantasies that had gone into his love for her. Truly, he hadn't even realized what love was back then, and yet he wondered if he didn't realize back then what it was better than it was today. When he had asked her such a question, he hadn't felt the way that he did looking at her. There wasn't the same sense of baser attraction there. She had simply been beautiful, kind, wonderful. And had she agreed to marry him, he would have contented himself to lay in fields with her, to feel lay his head in her lap and feel her stroking his hair lightly from his brow. To protect her, and hug her, and fall asleep by her side. That was all that 'love' consisted of back then.

Was that love naive, or was it purer than the one that he felt now for Vanya?

Still, with her in front of him like this, it seemed more a dream than a reality. His eyelids resisted blinking as he tried to take in her every motion, her every feature to see what was still the same and what had changed. He could see that she was looking him over, but he could tell that it was not with the same intensity that he looked at her, it was a curious fascination, the same way that every other elf looked at him. He was strange, an outsider, but certainly a curious one, worth studying. Even Vanya loved to stare and explore the ways that he was different, fascinating herself with every curve of his muscles, how big that he was, and how much brute strength he had.

This was a mistake, he realized. He could still remember Nieri's well, they had revealed her inherent misunderstanding of him. What did she possibly know about being him? She had coddled him the same way that any other elf would have. Treated him as if he wasn't different, gave him empty promises that made it sound as if he would fit in naturally with all of the others. No one except his mother had actually been willing to accept his differences and then forget them. The difference was that she didn't ignore that he was different, she just told him that it wouldn't matter. Not that he was the same as the others, but that his differences were a part of who he was, and that anyone who could not embrace such things should not be heeded.

Calanon had opened his mouth to try to excuse himself when Suiadan had set him up. Nieri had accepted his offering with the grace that was naturally hers, though he wondered if she realized how much the word 'friend' hurt, even after all of these years. Calanon looked down for a moment as he tried to puzzle through why it should. Perhaps it was just that it was a word he had mentally beat himself with after she had left. Mentally shaking it off her took a breath and started to walk towards the dance floor with the most beautiful elf at the feast on his arm. He could see Daer's eyebrows raise slightly from across the room, and mentally groaned, knowing that the little dung beetle would probably demand to know what he had done in order to get this honor the next time the two of them crossed paths outside of a classroom.

As the dance began to hit a point where they could join in he raised his hand towards her own, touching it lightly, palm to palm, his wolf eyes staring hard into her own, never flickering from her eyes, watching the way that they changed soundlessly as they moved. He wondered if Mother would be proud of him here, for she had insisted that as a "true elf of honor and gentleness" that he learn to dance, and had ingrained the steps in him so often that he probably could have done this dance that he was doing with Nieri in his sleep and not missed a single step, a single beat. He hadn't actually understood what the point of mastering such a thing was, but now he could see the reason why.

Without needing to focus on the steps, the movements, he could lose himself in her eyes, the features of her face. The mechanical nature of it, and there was something of a connection, something between the two of them as they shared this moment. He stepped away from her and then they came back. His hand clasped her side, and clasped her hand, and he began to move. But even as he did he realized that it was not the same as he dreamed it would be. In the thousand myriad dreams that he had danced with her, held her close like this, there had always been some sort of sensation that had washed over him in his dreams that what he was doing was absolutely right, without question, that it was perfect, that the moment itself was perfect.

Could it be that such a moment had been lost to time forever, or had it always been an illusion in his mind? Had he been able to hold her back then the way that he could hold her now, would he have been disappointed and realized the folly of his dreams, or would there have been something back then that had told him that it was true, that it was right, something that he could no longer have with the beautiful elf in front of him?

As they danced, he realized that she was both lighter, and warmer than he had expected that she would be. She was taller than Vanya, and older as well, but despite it all she felt so light in his arms that he easily could have spun her about the floor if he wanted to. Perhaps it was that he remembered how solid she had seemed when he was a child, and now things that had been so hard to lift were now so easy. But these were strange things to notice, things that he wished he had incorporated into the fantasies that he had held as a child.

He told her that she was beautiful as was polite as well as the truth. But even as he said it, there was something that he noticed there, in her eyes. Something that had changed. He wanted to ask her about it, and he knew that it was not his place. It was said that the kingdoms of men were terrible places, but he had not tried to find out from Suiadan what had happened to her over the long decade since she had been gone. Calanon wondered if that was what he was seeing in Nieri's eyes now, a ghost of the past that she was trying to hide from him, or perhaps from the world. The idea that something bad could have happened to her made his heart ache in a particularly awful way, so he tried to put such thoughts from his mind and focus on the dancing.

It was only due to training though that he did not falter a step at her next comment. It was the one thing that he did not expect to hear from her, that she thought of him as one who had grown. He opened his mouth to say something to it, to tell her that it had not simply been something that had happened overnight at all, that it had taken years before he had grown out of his awkward phases. And it some ways it felt like he had still not grown out of them. He did not possess the grace that the rest of the elves seemed to take for granted, even if he had strength that they did not. There was much a part of him that was still there in the past, that thirteen year old boy struggling to just... fit somewhere.

Finding no words coming, he looked down and quietly nodded in assent to her query about him becoming a man, then looked back up at her after a moment, afraid that his eyes focused downward might think that he was staring at her chest indecently. He did not know what to say to her as they moved, and at first he was grateful that she had decided to break the silence with words, until he heard the question that she asked him.

His brow tightened slightly at her words, so light and carefree, as if she were asking him about the weather. But the words that she said seared into him as he stared at her with golden eyes incredulously. He could understand his mother lightly teasing him about the past, for she meant no insult by it, but for Nieri herself to bring up the past in jest, was poking a wound that it seemed was still raw, even though Calanon himself might have claimed otherwise even a week prior. He tried to get a grip on what it was that pained him so about what she asked, but it was difficult.

Did you know that I waited for you? That for two years after you left I ran across the flets and then through the woods to the farthest outposts to question the guards to see if you had returned? Do you have any idea how much it hurt that you left me? That to you, pouring everything out was the stupid ramblings of a child who didn't know what he was asking? Calanon could feel the questions for her piling in his chest until they ached, concentrating into one single unspoken question as he looked at her.

Do you really think that I would ask marriage of just anyone?

Golden eyes stared at her for a moment more in silence before he forced himself to blink and nod quietly. "Vanya, of House Naur fancies me, and I her," he said finally, forcing his words to be level and calm, even though his instinct was to shove them in her face for her audacity. There was another, he could... feel something for someone other than her. Someone actually wanted him... someone actually cared for HIM, even if she would not.

"But we are both clearly too young for the vows yet." Calanon said softly, wondering if he should change the subject, or if Nieri would just do it for him if he remained quiet enough, or perhaps this dance would finally end and he could be given a moment of... peace.

[Kathryn Lacey]

Nieri Mahtar was a confident elf, but she never would have considered herself the most beautiful female in attendance at the feast. Sure, she was attractive, and her exotic beauty was interesting to behold, but in her near four hundred years, it was easy to notice that males’ eyes had a tendency to move away from her when an elf of traditional beauty was near. In fact, the idea that Calanon’s eyes never moved from her was strange to her and made her feel a little self-conscious though she wouldn’t allow such a thing to show.

The fae-elf felt a connection to him as they danced, as her eyes remained lifted to his while his were lowered to hers. Nieri didn’t examine this connection, simply attributing it to the fact that they’d know each other since his infancy, for the Lady Fael had been a friend to her father’s family. That added to the intensity of his gaze and his grace and ability on the dance floor could all account for the connection. While she hadn’t danced in over a decade, it wasn’t something one could simply forget to do once learned. They made good dancing partners, and she found herself smiling as they danced.

Then he told her she was beautiful, and for a mere instant, her smile faltered before she recovered it. “Thank you.” She said softly before adding, “You look handsome as well, Calanon. Those robes truly become you.” If he had seen what the female elf who had helped her prepare for the feast, he would not think her beautiful. Perhaps with her marred flesh concealed by opaque cloth. Fortunately, she could think of no instance in which he would ever see her scars, so she would never have to worry him about what had happened to her when she had been on her mission, and he need never be the wiser about her lack of physical appeal.

Then again, he could have just been saying such a thing to be polite. A decade had passed, and with it, perhaps his tastes had changed. It was customary to compliment one’s dancing partner, and that could have been all it was. For some reason, she felt conflicted about such a thought. On one hand, it was better if he was only trying to be kind, for he would not be deceived by her in such a way. On the other hand, a lack of insincerity on his part was an unhappy idea. She didn’t like the idea that he should blatantly speak falsely to her.

For her part, she had not told him a lie when she’d complimented him. Though he was larger than any elf she had ever met, he had grown to become a handsome male, and the clothing he wore truly did look great on him. It accentuated his body in the right places without trying to hide those parts of himself that were not exactly normal. He looked handsome and elegant. His wearing such clothing revealed a confidence that aided in his overall aesthetics.

As she gazed at him, she felt compelled to tell him that she had noticed how he had grown, but her tone of voice would allow him to know that it was a compliment and not her noting his strangeness. She wasn’t sure if he perceived her words as gratifying or complimentary despite this. His lips parted as if he would speak, but it was clear he decided to say nothing was better. For the first time since they’d begun dancing, his gaze broke from hers and lowered. Had she embarrassed him or hurt him in some way? That had not been her intention at all.

When his eyes lifted to hers once again, she attempted to change the subject by asking if he had found a potential mate. Almost immediately, she was aware that this was not a good question to have asked him. For a moment, she worried that he had tried and failed in this area and that she had inadvertently brought attention to it. She had wounded him with her question, that much was clear.

However, his words were confirmation that he had indeed found someone, and her thoughts immediately went to the idea that he still too-clearly recalled her rejection of his marriage proposal. It made her remember how young he still was that while he had moved forward, the wounds of his childhood still stung him so clearly. Had he been an adult, she would have thought less of it, and she likely never would have mentioned it, for she would have loathed to have someone remind her of the rejection she had received. However, it was easy to momentarily forget that only a short time had passed between the last time she had seen him and now, for he was so well grown. Then again, if he had moved on, why should he still feel her rejection of his proposal? She didn’t understand.

A soft smile moved over her lips when he announced his love’s name and the idea that even if they were too young now, they would likely speak their vows when they both reached adulthood though this latter part was more understood than clearly said. She gently squeezed his shoulder and the hand that held hers. “I am glad you have found love. You deserve it more than many, and I know that you will treat her wonderfully. Your best friend will also be your brother, and that is cause for celebration.” House Naur was higher class, but she believed such things were silly and shouldn’t dictate marriage or love. It was good to see that two of the younger elves could overcome it, especially because she could not do the same though she had once tried.

“So what else have you been doing these last years? Have you become adept with any weapons? Are you involved in politics? Have you been happy? How has your mother fared?” These subjects, at least, seemed tamer, like likely to wound.

They spoke a bit longer, but eventually, the music drew to a close, and they parted. “Thank you for dancing with me, Calanon. It was an honor.” She curtsied to him, a small smile on her lips. Not everything about the dance had been pleasant, mainly the parts where she imagined she was hurting his feelings though she had never intended to do so, and she was uncertain how to recover them, so that he could seem happier again.

Her smile faltered when she lifted her head as she straightened. A familiar face was approaching her with a smile, and her heart began pounding beneath her breast as if she was in danger, but the only danger was the reopening of old wounds badly healed – if healed at all they were. “Would you care to save the next dance for me?” His voice was as smooth and appealing as ever, and his violet eyes seemed to glow as Hlaron gazed at her.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words were heard for a moment. She quickly recovered herself. “I… Yes. I will dance with you.” There were no declarations of such an activity being honorable or pleasurable to her. She was simply being polite and had been caught off guard by his offer.

Her dark eyes moved to Calanon, her smile returning when she spoke to him. “We will see one another again and talk more.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of what she perceived to be fact. She had enjoyed his company, and she wanted to share it once more.

The music began again, this time it was a pleasant melody which required none of the closeness she had shared with Calanon. She was grateful for this. By now, Hlaron was likely wed to Aryë and making his way up the political ladder. She could not have felt any joy in dancing so near to this one. He offered her his arm, and she hesitated for a split second before taking it. When they had left Calanon’s presence, he spoke, “It is good to see you again, Nieri.” He spoke very informally to her, and she found herself wishing he would speak formally to her, as if they were merely strangers.

“It is good to see you as well, Hlaron of House Tulkas.” Her changeling optics did not meet his as they spoke to one another, positioning themselves opposite each other as the music began.

“Come now! You mustn’t be so formal. We are too close for such things.” He seemed affronted, but she said nothing concerning it. He looked over his shoulder to where they had left Calanon, but Nieri could no longer see the larger elf in the crowd. “You know, you don’t have to be kind to him any longer. He may still be a child, but he’s no longer an infant. Coddling him will do no good, and it will make it more difficult for you to be taken seriously by society no matter how big a hero you are.” Her eyes narrowed as he spoke insult to her and about her friend.

“Have you wed Alyë of House Anar yet?” She asked simply, working hard to keep the cold edge from her voice as they passed one another though she wasn’t sure she succeeded. She noted his body stiffed at her question. They parted ways, returning to their lines before moving forward once again to one another.

“Have you not heard? She spoke the vows with Tirno of House Sírë.” The ice in his voice was clear. Though Nieri had never met Tirno Sírë, she knew that he was of the same high birth as Alyë Anar while Hlaron was ranked below her.

“I am sorry to hear that life has not gone as you planned it.” She moved away from him, linking arms with another male as they moved in a circle. She then moved to another male and another until she found her arm linked with Hlaron’s. She had missed his touch, but he had made himself clear when he had rejected her as his life partner.

“I was saddened at first, but I have had much time to think about my life and where I want it to go now.” They parted again, making their opposite ways through the circle of dancers once again before meeting once more when he continued to speak. “I believe I made a mistake, Nieri, when you spoke so plainly to me before you left.” Though she was graceful and a wonderful dancer, she nearly stumbled when he said those words. She was grateful when they had to part again, too far away to speak in such a way. It gave her time to think a bit about what he said.

He was a bit ruder than she’d remembered him being, but he was still the type to plan each phase of his life. Was that why he had spoken so cruelly about her friendship with Calanon? He was strange as far as elves went, but was it his way of controlling all aspects of his own life by controlling hers now that he wanted to speak the vows with her? Why now that she had been through so much, that he had lost his chance to wed one of higher birth who could aid him in his politics? Surely she was merely his second choice and nothing more? No… She was famous now. Though none could ever understand that through which she’d been, she was still a hero in the eyes of her people, half-breed or not. That no longer mattered. She had risked her life to save her people and any other repressed person of the world. He wanted to cling to that, to build his own importance off hers.

Finally, they met again, and she said coldly, “I do not believe you made a mistake at all.” The song ended an instant after she spoke those words, and he glared at her, incredulously. After all, she was likely the second woman to reject him, but this time, the blow was harder because she was beneath him in birth. Without another word, she turned her back on him and walked way. Pain clenched her gut at having rejected one she would have had only ten years ago, but she had self-respect, and that was stronger than the love she had once had for him. Having seen his true colours, she wasn’t sure that she could truly love one such as himself, one who was so cruel and self-serving. How had she ever perceived him as anything else?

[Misery]

Dancing with her, Calanon was certain there was nothing in life that could be more painful than that particular moment. Why did it hurt so much that she still had never realized how he had felt about her? That to her it was nothing? He had a completely different life now, and yet for some reason, hearing the soft happiness in her voice as she treated him as if the pair of them were supposed to laugh about how silly he had been as a child... hurt. He tried not to make it show on his features, but the way that she looked at him, he could tell that some of it went through, despite his intentions to be stoic. It made him feel even more flustered, to the point where he wanted to excuse himself and leave, just to get out of the eyesight of those ever changing eyes that were looking at him now with what might be considered pity.

She had told him a moment ago she thought of him as handsome as a polite gesture, and little more. He did not know what to say to her now, but thankfully his admission of having found a love came out smoother than he had hoped, and with none of the malice or cruel intent that a deep dark part of him wanted to sneak into his voice, just to see if he could make her feel... anything at all. Hurting her was not the answer, and it was not true to the person that he had once been, so he held back from it, instead keeping it bottled in himself. He would dance with her and leave, and that was the end of it. Even as he looked in her eyes now he could see the confusion, her studying him like the others did, as if he was something not understandable.

"Thank you for your kind words." he said softly as she spoke to him of the joyous news. His eyes glanced downward when she mentioned that he deserved it more than most. Another kindness bestowed upon him. What had he actually done to deserve anything? Much less deserve happiness more than those around them? He didn't ask the questions that were coming to his mind, for he knew that they would hurt too much to hear the answers to. As they turned he spared a moment to look at Suiadan, who looked more apologetic than Calanon had expected him to. Clearly his friend hadn't actually intended this dance to be as painful as it had, and could see how it was affecting him.

When she asked him more questions, he tried to be as polite as possible, sensing that she too was trying to shift away from what had become a dance filled with awkwardness. "I have been training, mostly. There is not much to say other than that. Given my size I am no longer allowed to train with ones who are my age, but instead train with those who are but a few decades from the marrying age. I have not mastered any weapons, though I have begun to train with Arbellason with blades, though he has told me that my forms suffer for not having spent as many years training in them as the other elves." Calanon's eyes went back down. How did you tell a former love that all you had become in the past decade was a failure?

"I do not think I would be well suited to areas where being popular would be a prerequisite." Calanon said honestly. Elves, like all other races, judged their leaders both on perceived competency, but as well as charisma. And while Calanon struggled with the first one, the second... he could not muster no matter how many years he spent in the capitol city.

"My mother is well," Calanon asked, avoiding her question of happiness altogether as he forced a gentle smile at her, though it was a little easier now that he could focus on his mother rather than just Nieri. "It warmed her heart to hear that you were safe and returning to us. I am sure that she would want to speak with you this evening, if you are not too tired from your journey." Calanon said honestly. Perhaps after the two of them of them danced he could use that as a nice segue to vanish for the evening. He had made his appearance here at the dance, there would be no harm in escaping into the woods to find Vanya.

As she thanked him for the dance, he nodded slightly, looking around for Mother amongst the crowd. "The pleasure was all mine, Lady Nieri of House Mahtar." he said, still being formal with her. There didn't really seem to be any other way to be. There was something that flashed across her face then that caused his eyes to narrow, and turn as he saw another elf approaching them. Without much warning, Calanon stepped forward lightly, in front of Nieri as if to shield her from the thing that was coming closer to cause her pain.

Hlaron met him, eye to eye, and neither one of them blinked as they stood there for a moment, Calanon's muscles beneath his robes tensing as if he expected something to come of it. Still, he knew better than to make a scene here in front of everyone. Hlaron waited a moment, and then quietly stepped to the side of the hulking elf first to ask Nieri's permission to dance. As he did Calanon turned, his wolf eyes focusing on the other elf as if to communicate that he would be removed from their company if he hurt Nieri at all.

But upon hearing Nieri's assent, Hlaron turned to look at the other elf for a moment, making it clear that Calanon's protectiveness was no longer required.

"By your leave..." Calanon said with politeness, bowing to Nieri, before turning.

He glanced at the pair of them dancing a couple of times, making certain that Nieri was in fact alright, and wondering what it was about that elf that caused her to look as if she were scared. Something about the very air itself felt wrong, and Calanon sighed. Of course it felt wrong, nothing about this evening had gone how he had expected it to. Turning he looked for the beastmen to ask them about their meals, to see if there had been a way that he could have seasoned it better, but he did not notice them amongst the crowd. Perhaps they, like he, had no particular desire to be in the company of this crowd any longer.

Calanon sighed as he made his way to the wine table. He did not usually partake in such things, but it seemed like if there was ever a night for forced merriment, then this one would be the one.

He was careful as he took the crystal glasses, for breaking crystal was considered a bad omen, and sipped it lightly, remembering once again that he didn't exactly care for the stuff. As he went to set the glass back down, he felt a rather sharp bump in the middle of back and took a step to correct himself, but the glass, having been held lightly spun towards the ground and shattered roughly upon the hard stone.

"You should watch where you're GOING, OX." A somewhat shrill voice echoed from behind him as some of the other elves that at the party turned to look to see what the commotion was about. But Calanon was staring down at the ground as he watched the wine slowly seeping into the cracks of it, making slow lines along the ground. He knelt down and touched it for a moment, pulling his hand back to look at the dark red fluid against his fingertips, and turned. Daer was in his way.

"I said, you should wa-" Daer started, only to be roughly shoved out of the way as Calanon headed towards the door. "What is your problem, reject?" Daer called out after him, but was ignored as Calanon started for the door.

"Calanon!" Suiadan's familiar voice called out as his friend started to walk beside him. "I would have words with you, brother..."

"Another time, Suiadan. I need to go." Calanon said numbly as he moved at a wider stride than the other elf could keep up comfortably with, his longer legs walking at full pace now as he moved out into the nights, walking across the flets, somehow knowing where to go, and knowing that he was already late.


As he got closer to his house, Calanon found himself moving faster and faster. He wasn't sure what it was about it... but there was something that was terribly wrong, and it made his flesh bump to think about it. By the time he got to the last bridge he was sprinting, running haphazardly across the shaking bridge, ignoring the creaks and groans the wood. Despite running faster his footsteps seemed to go slower as if moving through thick syrup, or moving in a dream. He realized what it was that he could smell on the wind, what was causing his heart to want to stop beating in his chest even though it thudded against it more violently than ever.

Blood.

As he burst through the front door of his home, he froze as if in ice. In the entry way stood one of the Beastmen, a female wolf who bore a smile that seemed off, as if it didn't belong on her face, or more precisely as if half her face had been numbed and she was trying to smile through it. Growling a little she touched the side of her face, and it seemed to come back to life, molding into what looked like a more natural smile, though any comfort that it could have given was long gone as Calanon stood there in mid stride, his muscles straining enough to want to tremble even though they did not even quiver in the slightest as the beastwoman gave him that twisted smile.

"I think you had the right idea Galnor, I tire of this flesh..." she growled as her face seemed to almost melt again, features starting to droop and sag as there came a sickening sound and the tearing of flesh, the way that it sounded to butcher a boar before it was cooked. Calanon felt his stomach twist as he flexed his muscles again, but even his face showed no strain from the pressure that he was trying to exert. He tried to close his eyes, but they would not blink, would not move, he could have been carved in marble for all that he was able to move. Meanwhile the beastwoman in front of him seemed to flay her own flesh, large strips of her back bursting outright as the skin tore, stretching and growing until they became a pair of large leathery wings.

"There had to be a better way to fool that worthless thief than a nigh permanent shapeshifting spell, Galnor, there had to be a better way."

As she righted herself, her face began to reform, longer, more regal looking than that of the beastwomans, and the skin on her forehead began to peel back as a pair of horns forced their way from her body. She adjusted her jaw lightly as her skin began to darken to a dull crimson, the color of blood. When she spoke to him again Calanon could smell burning coals on her breath, and her teeth were blacker than the darkest night. Wearing only tatters of clothing, she seemed at once the most terrifying thing that Calanon had ever seen as well as the most alluring, and when her eyes, blank save for a faint red glow, set upon him, Calanon could feel a wave of nausea roll over him both at the situation and at what he was feeling for her.

"Well, hello there." The creature whispered to him, her voice far lower than even Calanon's voice, lower than even the dwarfs who had been rescued. "I must admit I saw you earlier amongst the tree huggers, but I did not think to take a second look. Just goes to show that I'm a little out of practice after living amongst the filth for so long. You may relax, pet, that position looks a little... uncomfortable."

At her word his body fell to the floor, and his lungs began gasping for oxygen they had not been properly able to take in before she had given the command. He tried to say something to her to scream at her, to lunge for the blade he could now see to the side of him, but no movement came. In vain he stared at the blade beside him, unwrapped from it's cloth and dropped on the ground, clearly having no value to those who had looted the place. Despite his thoughts, it would not move, it would not come to him, even though he tried to recite every magical spell that he had ever been taught in his head. Without the words, Calanon could make nothing happen, and the words would not come.

"Rise."

At the word he rose up, his body slack as if there were a single thread that suspended him and little else. The demoness pressed to him in a way that might have made Vanya blush, but made Calanon's face twist in rampant disgust as his stomach tried in vain to empty it's contents and failed. He blinked, and from the smile on her face realized that the demoness wanted to give him that control, that it was not something he had claimed from her spell. She smiled and pressed closer to him. "You smell... divine. Not like the rest of these musty elves... you smell young, pure... and corruptible. But don't worry, purity is something that is cast off eventually, my love... better to leave it behind with someone who knows how to shed it in... style..."

"Jahi." Came a voice that was even deeper than the demoness', if such a thing was possible. The demoness only turned her head from Calanon to look at the demon, who bore much of the same colorings as she did, though his skin seemed to be a darker hue of red. "We do not have time for this, Jahi, we have matters to attend, the elf lord has revealed that there are guardians not under his control around this place that we must dispatch."

"They cannot resist our gaze, Galnor, I do not know what you are fretting about. We practically fasted all the way to this wretched place to avoid suspicion, and I let you two enjoy the first of the elf bitches blood on your own."

Her words cause Calanon's breath to freeze in place as he realized that this place reeked of blood. As his face twisted into a mask of twisted hatred, he could feel the demoness against him tremble and dig her nails lightly into his flesh as she pressed her lips to his neck.

"By the hells... he feels... WONDERFUL. I did not know an elf could feel so... exquisite..." The demoness groaned against his skin as she clung tighter, looking at him with a twisted smile.

"Nor did I..." the Galnor said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Bring out the she elf." He growled behind him.

A third demon emerged from the bedroom with Calanon's mother, and every fear in his heart came true at the sight of her, her eyes wide with fear and despair as she saw him, her mouth twitching as if to wail, but no sound came forth from her. She was covered in cuts and patches of blood, her once flawless face now marred by dozens of deep wounds that had been carved into the flesh. The blood lay away from the cuts, flecked in odd places, or in thin lines from where it had pooled to the side as the rest of it had been licked off of her flesh. As Calanon stood watching the demon who held her cut her flesh again, her lips trembling in silent agony as she bled only to have the blood slowly licked from her face.

Her dress had been cut in several places, and Calanon realized with a numbing logic that they had been doing this to her for a long time, slowly bleeding her dry, cut by cut. "His pain, I can feel it from here." The nameless third demon said with a chuckle, then whispered to Laucamiluiel, "You can cry softly, my pretty, not loud so someone can hear you, but enough to let your friend know what I'm doing to you..."

"Calanon I lo-" the female elfs soft words were cut off in a soft shriek of agonizing pain as the curved black blade the third demon wielded slowly dug it's way into her flesh, her captor seeming to delight in the small sounds that she made, slowing as she shrieked louder only to start moving again as she silenced, drawing it out until it seemed to be one long wail that just would not end. Calanon did not know that people had the breath for such screams, and his body began to tremble as he heard it, the demoness holding to him shivering with what had to be excitement.

"He's marvelous..." she purred out as the torture slowly continued.

"Nnnaaaauuuurrr..." Laucamiluiel managed to groan out before her words descended into soft wails again, her body tensing at the sensation of it, seeming to try to fight against the demonic spell to no avail. The demon holding her growled at that and without warning dug the blade into her breast, twisting it mercilessly as she cried until she had to gasp for breath, nearly hyperventilating at the agony that she was in.

"I should fucking cut out your thrice damned tongue for that, elf bitch." The demon growled. "No givin away surprises now..."

"It was your fault for letting her know in the first place, Orias." Galnor said, his arms still folded. Unlike the others he seemed to weather the waves of emotion that was coming off of the pair of elves.

"She tricked me, Galnor..." Orias growled, stabbing her again, this time in the side, sneering as she trembled against him. "Doesn't matter now, she's nearly spent. Do we have time to work the new tree hugger over?"

"No." Galnor growled. "Our job here is done, and we have other competitors to eliminate as part of our bargain. Not to mention the battalion of men will be showing up within the hour. You two have ten minutes." Galnor growled.

Calanon felt his world start to spin and that wave of nausea come over him once again. Had he the words, the ability to speak he would have begged for them to just let him vomit, to get it out of his system, to give him that at least, but the words would not come no matter how he strained. It couldn't be true, this all... this had to be some sort of twisted nightmare that was in his mind. Violently he struggled to make sense of it in his mind, and realized that it made sense, all of it made sense, everything that Suiadan and Vanya had asked of him. Everything they had told him about Lord Naur becoming the next head of the High Council...

Competition...

Calanon's face twisted as he tried to bellow in rage, and he felt the warm fingertip of the demoness clinging to him press to his lips. "Mmm, pet, I love the way you struggle, but a succubus' stare is not the sort of thing you can break free from..." she whispered sweetly. "You are mine to command until the end..."

"My son, I lo-" Laucamiluiel tried to start, but Orias' shushed her and her voice went dead in her throat, her lips mouthing out the last part desperately, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Your son? How wonderful... that gives me the most delightful idea..." Orias said with a smirk as he slammed the blade into her side, the female elf's eyes going wide with agony that she could no longer voice. "She's dying now, boy, probably got a few minutes left at best, but how about we give her a good send off to the next life..." His smile grew with each word.

"Rape her."

The words rang dead throughout the air, as Calanon stared at the demon.

"Make him do it, Jahi."

"Mmmmm, how delightfully twisted. Do what Orias says, pet... rape mommy..." The demoness purred.

Calanon felt his foot start to move to take a step away from the demoness.

Then another step.

He knew what they were about to make him do, and he felt himself helpless following it. He wanted to draw back into his mind, to leave this place entirely, but the rage inside of him kept him in the moment as it began to become more than a feeling, more than an emotion.

It became him.

Calanon was rage, and what had seared at his flesh crystallized into a single solitary thought that could not be denied.

Destroy.

In one fluid motion Calanon bent to the broadsword at his feet and grabbed it by the hilt, plunging it violently into Jahi's chest hard enough to pin her to the wall, and then twisted with it, feeling the metal groan and then splinter with the force of his anger. He turned then and threw, knowing exactly where the blade would go, knowing how many times it would spin, each twist and turn it would take in the air as it sought out it's target with perfect accuracy.

Orias stood with his mouth open for a long moment after the jagged hilt of the sword had embedded deep into his skull, as if searching for the words to say, but instead simply collapsed to the ground in a heap. Calanon's eyes, gleaming with murder searched for the last demon, but Galnor was nowhere to be found, clearly deciding that saving his own skin was more important than the lives of those who had served him.

"Blood...Rage... how...?" Jahi asked behind him, black blood slowly spilling down across her bare stomach and dripping to the ground.

Calanon did not even hear her words as he rushed to the fallen elf now crumpled on the floor.

Laucamiluiel's fingers trembled as she touched his face and her body seemed to sigh and relax with her words. "You're safe..." she whispered, stroking his cheek, her blood smearing across his face as she did so. She smiled for him then, the smile she gave him when she told him that everything was going to be alright, but as she opened her mouth she coughed violently, blood trailing from her lips.

Calanon closed his eyes as he began to recite the strongest healing spell that he knew, his hand coming to his mother's temple only to be pushed away lightly. "Their knife was hel-," A violent cough wracked her body again, "... hellforged steel, any spell you cast will just cause us both agony before..."

"No..." Calanon whispered.

"... the end." Laucamiluiel finished, smiling at him with tears in her eyes.

"No... I... I'll bring you a healer, you-"

"You won't get half-... halfway there before I am gone, Calanon. Let me spend these last moments looking at you, my son." Laucamiluiel whispered, stroking his cheek again. "Promise me. Promise me that you will not let this taint you, promise me that you will be a force of light in this world." He could feel her nails digging into him as she asked.

"No... No last promises, you're not going to die!" Calanon shouted at her as his tears blazed slow trails through the smears of blood on his face. He could feel her blood soaking into the pale white of his dress robes.

Laucamiluiel went slack in his arms.

Calanon shifted, trying to keep her head from twisting unnaturally to the side as it was, forcing her to look at him, for her eyes were still open, and yet the warmth there, the love that had been in them was gone. Now they were as cold as if they were carved from glass, eyes half lidded as she seemed to look beyond him.

"No... no no no no no no no no...." Calanon whispered as he shook her corpse lightly. This was not how creatures died... there was a sigh of death, a sign of passage from one life to the next. They did not just... stop. "No..."

"Please come back..." Calanon whispered through the tears. "Please, I'm sorry I didn't promise you... I'll promise you anything please come back. Spirits... please come back Mother, please come back, please..."

Calanon slowly started rocking back and forth as he clutched her body closer to his as if he could transfer the life from himself to her. It was said that there were spells to exchange ones lifespan with anothers...

But death... death was final.

"Please..." Calanon sobbed again as he clutched her tighter still.

Rocking back and forth he slowly drew in a breath, his lungs burning with it as he held her so tightly he could feel his muscles aching, and at that moment threw his head back and let out a wail of true agony.

It was not a bellow of revenge, a deep dark cry to battle, but something higher like nails upon chalk stone, as if his vocal chords themselves were threatening to rip from his throat as pure agony escaped him in that moment and echoed into the night.

And then Calanon was alone.

[Kathryn Lacey]

A scream rent the air, tearing through the soft melody that always sounded in the evenings in the Fae Kingdom. Another scream, louder and nearer, rent the air. Nieri Mahtar’s heart beat quickly in her chest as the sounds came to her small, leaf-shaped ears. What was happening? One moment, all was peaceful and beautiful, and the next, terrible sounds were coming to her.

Then she detected the scent that made the small, pale hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. Blood... By how strong it was, there was a lot of it. Her bow was ready as she ran through the trees, toward the sound. Why had she chosen today of all days to wander outside the limits of the capitol? Why had she not stayed to enjoy the company of her parents? If she had, she would have been there to help the people against whatever was causing the period screams to ring through the air rather than spending her time, leisurely practicing her bow and knife-work.

Urgency was in her every movement as she ran, and fear was written all over her face. The fae were under attack, but who would do such a terrible thing? Had a foreigner happened upon the city? Luckily, the leader of the Kingdom of Men was scheduled to be here. They would be able to help the fae fight back, to defeat whatever terrible evil was assaulting them now.

The closer she got, the worse the screams became, as if she had been heading home for just the beginning of it all, but she was still too far away to quickly reach the city limits. It felt as if her eternity was passing her by as she ran. Would she ever make it in time to help anyone?

Finally, as she scaled a hill, the city was within sight, and it was a terrible vision to behold. The bodies of fae littered the pathways, and a few humans lay dead as well. Their blood stained the roads and the walls of buildings and homes. Nieri was horrified. She had never been involved in battle though she had been training for battle from the time she was child of fifteen years. All six kingdoms had been at peace, but it looked like one of the kingdoms had revolted against the fae at the very least. Her first thought was that it was the beastmen, for she had heard they were uncouth and wild and violent. Never in her life would she have suspected men who had specifically come to make peace with the fae.

She rushed down the hill, careful to be silent and stealthy about it. She didn’t want anyone to notice her. Half a century ago, when she had trained hard with Arbellason of the Elf Kingdom, he had made it clear to her that surprise was often the best weapon a fighter had, and she had the added advantage of having inherited the use of glamour magic from her fae mother. She had trained to improve it over the centuries, so it was as natural for her to cloak herself with it as it was to run.

Nieri pressed her back to a building, slinging her bow back around her back. There had been none on the outer city limits, and this area was too confined for a recurve bow. Her fingers gripped and unsheathed a pair of knives from her belt. A scream sounded from two buildings away, and she quickly ran toward the sound, her heart thumping rapidly beneath her breast. “Damned fae scum.” A male voice spat, and as her optics focused around the corner of the building, shock wound through her. Men – human men – were standing over a fae woman who clutched her child behind her, protectively. “You aren’t people. You’re unnatural, and you don’t deserve to exist!” He projected a wad of saliva toward the woman before his companion raised his sword.

Nieri rushed forward as quickly as possible, her blades ready. She drove one between a gap in armor into the side of the man who had drawn his blade against the fae woman and child before ripping it from his flesh and swinging her legs at the back of his knees. He crumpled upon himself and accidentally fell on his own blade, driving it hard through his own shoulder. He cried out, but his companion, the one who had voiced such resentment toward her people, was already drawing his sword to attack the one who had harmed his fellow soldier.

Though she was new to this, she didn’t pause when she witnessed the carnage and the pain she caused. “Hesitation will get you killed, Nieri. You must not waver!” Arabellason had told her as he’d trained her fiercely. Well, she had listened, and she knew this was completely different. While he would not hesitate to hurt her if she hesitated, he never would have taken her life. These men had no qualms about such a thing.

She had to be fast. If he hit her, she would be dead. Nieri was built for speed, but she had difficulties taking a hard hit because her body was not made for such things. Her bone structure was delicate like both of her parents when compared with the structure of men. He swung his blade at her, and she ducked beneath it and rolled to the side. Thankfully, this man was slower than her by genetics and because of his heavy armor, so she had a bit of an advantage. As she leapt to her feet, she had to dodge to avoid his second blow, but she threw her dagger with deadly accuracy as his burrowed into his throat. He gurgled and fell as his life’s blood seeped from him. She then turned toward the still living soldier who had managed to remove his sword from his shoulder and was coming toward her, albeit weakly.

The air seemed to glitter around him for a moment before he collapsed once more. The fae mother stood behind him, arms raised as she concentrated on her spell. When she was satisfied, she lowered her arms and thanked Nieri before grabbing her son’s hand and running for the forest outside the city.

She took the time to pause now as she stared at the man whose gurgling was subsiding, and she pitied him despite the torment he had tried to cause. Even if he was a bad man, she had still taken a life. Was it okay to kill the wicked to protect the good, or did that just mean she was just as wicked?

Deciding she could dwell on this when the fae were no longer under attack, she made her way through the city, incapacitating or killing men as she made her way toward the home she shared with her elf father and her fae mother. By the time she arrived, her hair was stained red with blood, and her blades were saturated in the stuff. Even with her efforts, there always seemed to be more dead fae than humans. They were physically weaker, and all the magic they possessed could not save them from such a terrible fate. Nieri could only pray that her parents had been luckier than the rest, however unlikely. The hordes of men only seemed to be thicker and stronger the farther into the city she traveled, and she had had to use her glamour magic to cloak her more thoroughly unless she spotted a warrior alone.

As it was, she reached her parent’s home with only a few cuts along her arms and one along her right cheek, but they would heal well enough and without scars. Her breath caught when she saw that the door was open, but she forced herself forward, fearing the worst.

Even having seen the terrible things men had done to the fae as she had traveled through the place, she was not prepared for what she saw within her parent’s home. Blood saturated the walls, and her mother lay in a large pool of it, her once-beautiful wings shredded and bloody. Her father held the dead fae woman, tears and blood streaking his face as he struggled for breath, for he was also badly wounded. A bloody hole gaped in his chest and another in his abdomen.

“Mother! Father!” Nieri cried, tears finally flowing from her eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Though she trained in weapons, she was never supposed to have used that training, not seriously, not like this. What was the use of all of this training if she couldn’t have saved the ones for whom she cared? She rushed to the herb cabinet, but her father’s voice stopped her.

“No, Nieri.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it was as ragged as his breathing. “No herb can help us now.” She sobbed harder at that and crouched before him, not caring that blood seeped through her trousers.

“The humans have betrayed us.” He spoke again. “The teleportation crystal must be destroyed, and the fae still living will need to be helped. You are sturdier than they and can help them better than some of them can help themselves.”

Her body shuddered with sobs as he spoke to her, giving her a duty to uphold. “No, Father. You and I will help them together. Mother’s death won’t have been in vain.” Her fingers moved over her mother’s still form, gingerly caressing the blood-soaked hair, once as white as her own. He coughed, spitting blood as he did so.

“No, my daughter. I must go to where you mother is. Have no head for vengeance, for that way lies only darkness and poison. You must help those who need it; you must save lives. Do not seek revenge, or you will never be able to return to yourself. I love y-” The strain of speaking was too much for him. He coughed once more and was still. Nieri’s sobs came hard, but as she gently pressed her father’s lids over his eyes, she was able to calm herself. She had a duty to her people to help them so that all fae would not be eradicated from the world, and she would succeed in her father’s last request.

---

“Arbellason is the best. I trained with him myself. He always finds the perfect weapon for anyone. I was a failure with the rapier, you see, though he began me with it. I was also rather pathetic with regular swords no matter their lengths. I thought he would toss me aside for my failure, but I truly did not know him well enough. Instead, he was patient, and he switched me to daggers and to knives, and they were a perfect fit. I am certain he will find your perfect blade as well if he has not already done so.” Nieri still danced with Calanon at this point, talking again. She suspected he had already heard this story from her, but the dejection in his voice when he claimed to have no mastered a weapon brought it to her lips once more. “Not everyone begins as a master of any craft. It may be true that you have not had the time to master these things like other elves with whom you train, but that does not mean you will not become even better than they someday with the right tools.”

Politics were indeed a popularity contest. She understood why he felt that he would never be suited to them. “I am the same way. Politics have never been something to which I am suited. Thankfully, I don’t truly care for them.”

She smiled at the mention of his mother’s good health. “I will never be too tired to visit with you or with the Lady Fael. I will seek her before the evening comes to a close.”

When their dancing came to a close, she expressed her joy for having had the pleasure to dance with him, but it stung a bit that he was so cold as to be so formal with her, even then. However, a familiar and not altogether welcome elf approached her, and she could not hide her unease about it. Even Calanon seemed to pick up on it, and though he had been so proper toward her but seconds ago, he now stood before her protectively. It was a very kind gesture, and it warmed her heart that he would want to protect her even where there was no physical danger.

She saw how Hlaron’s violet eyes met Calanon’s face, and she saw the challenge in them, but she could not see what expression the larger elf had upon his angular visage. It didn’t matter. Soon, Hlaron had stepped around the larger male, and he had asked her to dance which she politely – yet reluctantly – agreed to do.

When at last the dance was over and her rejection of his potential proposal secure, Nieri Mahtar gazed around the area, searching. Neither Calanon nor his mother were among the dancers or those who were simply talking or eating. She approached the table where her Aunt Tinwë still sat with her husband. She turned and smiled at her niece. “I see you have danced with the handsome Hlaron of House Tulkas. He would be a good match for you, you know.” Nieri smiled weakly, politely. She didn’t want to offend her relation, but she didn’t want to discuss Hlaron, either. “You should tell me about what you two spoke.”

Nieri changed the subject. “Actually, I was wondering if you had seen Lady Fael or her son? I danced with him earlier, and he said his mother would love to speak with me. I was hoping you could point me in the direction of where they are?”

Tinwë seemed a bit put-off by Nieri’s change of subject. It was clear she didn’t approve of Calanon, but she could never say such a thing aloud because that would be like condemning Councilwoman Fael as well. “I have not seen Calanon of House Fael, but I did notice that the Councilwoman left with the beastmen a while ago. I assumed they went to speak in private. They went that way.” She waved her hand toward the direction one would take to go to the Fael home.

“Thank you, Aunt Tinwë!” Nieri expressed, kissing the other woman on the cheek before she scurried toward the pathway that lead to the house. Just before she reached the last bridge that led to Calanon’s home, a disturbing scent made its way to her nostrils, and a cry broke through the silence, the sound of which caused her skin to crawl. In seconds, her daggers were out of her boots and in her hands, and she was running across the bridge. It didn’t seem to move though she ran as fast as she could, her weight leaving it undisturbed.

Her jaw clenched tightly as a too-familiar scene greeted her. The door was cracked open ominously, but she didn’t hesitate as she ran toward it and slipped through the entrance without preamble. The scene that met her made her eyes widen. A creature, the likes of which she had never seen, was pinned to the wall, head hunched in death as its dark blood seeped around the bit of metal that hung it there. Another On the ground a bit away, the hilt of a broadsword stuck up from the forehead of another such creature though this was more masculine. In the midst of it all, a hunched form was on his knees, back toward her, clutching something. No, not something; it was someone. Though her face was covered in blood, as Nieri gazed harder at it, she could see it was none other than the Lady Laucamiluiel Fael, her eyes blank as she stared before her. Even from behind her, she could see patches at Calanon’s sides where his mother’s blood had soaked through his white and gold robes. A small sound left her throat, something between a gasp and a cry of horror.

She stepped forward, shifting one of her blades to her right hand as she touched his shoulder gently, as comfortingly as she could in such a situation. "Calanon, how did this happen?" Her voice was soft, non-accusing. She didn't want to ask too many questions too soon because he was obviously hurting - even more than she hurt now to see her friend dead and her other friend so tormented by it. Tears swam in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Nieri had to stay strong for her friend.

[Misery]

The sound of anguish erupted from his lungs.

And then there was nothing.

Calanon could feel the weight in his arms, but it was lifeless, seeming to weigh more now that there was nothing there, as if death was a heavier thing than life. Still, he could not bear to let that weight drop from his arms. If he held it close, there would be a chance that it would return to him. Like a flame from one wick to another, if he held her body close enough to his own could his spark of life reignite her own? As his lungs, empty from expelling all they had into one scream started to burn, he waited, his eyes shut tight as he clutched her tight against his body and slowly rocked back and forth, mentally praying to every spirit he knew of, both dark and light.

And as he took in a breath, he could feel it spasm, shudder as he inhaled the breath of her blood, of her scent that would never again fill this household, that would surround him as she held him against her and told him that everything was going to be alright. There would be this memory of it and then there would just be... nothing. And the grim horror of that made his chest start to shake as he let out a low, pitiful sob against her shoulder, holding his mother's corpse against him as he began to cry so deeply that he could not draw a breath, his lungs seeming to ache again as he tried to get something inside of them, but could not, not even if it meant killing him at this point.

He didn't even hear the elf enter, didn't even hear her gasp of horror at what had happened. For all Calanon cared holding his mother there, Nieri didn't exist any longer. Nothing existed in this world. And yet as she spoke, a part of him registered it. His breath which had been coming out in sobs stilled in his chest, or tried to at any rate. There were still tiny gasps that came from him, as to stop the ragged breathing he had been doing outright would have simply made him pass out completely. But he did not answer Nieri as she asked, looking in on the scene.

Instead he slowly laid his mother down upon the ground, and brushed his hands over her eyes to cover them. Staring down at her fallen body for a moment, before leaning down to slowly kiss the top of her forehead lightly, feeling the tears trickling off of his cheeks and down into his mother's long perfect hair. He drew his hand across her cheek then as he looked at her now, silent and sleeping eternally, and forced himself to smile for her, the way that she would have wanted him to smile at her. The way that he should have smiled at her when she had asked him to make a promise he had resisted, and by doing so defied her one dying wish for him.

"I love you, Mother." He said softly, as if Nieri wasn't even there. "I will not be far behind you."

He stared at her for one last moment more, taking in a slow breath, and then he spun, in a swift motion grabbing the knife at his feet as he lunged for Nieri.

Caught off guard, he snatched the elven ranger by the throat roughly and slammed her back into the wall, not hard enough to stun her, but hard enough to make his anger felt. No, what was dangerous about his movements was the hellforged steel blade that he wielded, leveling it at her face. He could feel her hand slam up to stop the momentum of it, and feel her other hand pressing of her own against his throat, and yet he did not care. His eyes, once kind and full of fear were now the eyes of the beast, filled with pain and rage the likes of which Nieri had never seen in elf nor man. They stared at her as if they were not the eyes of her friend but of some deep monster hidden inside of him, and though she tried to keep his blade at bay with her hand she would be seeing first had how terribly monstrous his strength had become.

"If you knew..." Calanon spat as he stared into her eyes with all the hatred of the world, "If you had any idea that the beastmen you brought here were demons, nothing you can do with that blade will stop me from ramming this blade through your eye." Calanon growled out darkly, hardly sounding like himself as he threatened it. Her parents had warned her well, it seemed, for all that they had warned her against Calanon had clearly not steeled himself against. He was vengeance, raw and unbridled and willing to lash out at any that he thought might be responsible for the death of his mother, even one whom he had thought the world of before.

But Calanon could see it there in her eyes, the horror at his words, the horror of knowing that she had played some part in what had happened, that she had been involved in a set of circumstances that had killed her friend. And at that look he knew that she did not know. Neither the best actor, nor the most cunning manipulator in all of the kingdoms could have made a face like that at what he had accused her of. What he saw was true pain, and he recognized it, even though the only times he had seen it before was staring at a mirror, thinking about his woes that now all seemed silly, superficial.

He let her go and pulled away from her, turning to look at the mess that was there. And then calmly, he went into the other room. He returned a moment later with a small sack, the one that one might take with them to gather fresh fruits from the woods, or at the market. Then he walked to the demon who was on the ground and stepped on his jaw, grabbing the hilt of the blade that had embedded in his head and wrenched it free, cracking the demon's jaw in the process with a sickening snap, not seeming to care about the black blood that was seeping into the woodwork and into the floor now.

"Men are coming." Calanon said finally as he walked over to the succubus who had been pinned to the wall by the other half of his blade. He grabbed her by the hair then, tugging her head up from it's slouched position, and stabbed into the soft flesh of her neck. "They were watching as you entered the elven lands now. Lord Naur's elves will not attack them." Calanon did not look at her as he spoke, instead he stabbed at the head again and again, grotesque popping sounds coming from the demoness' body as the flesh was rent slowly, the broadsword doing a poor job of cutting through it. And yet finally the head was nearly free. With one last grow he slammed the broken blade into her spine and wiggled it back and forth until it came off with a satisfying pop, and tore the rest of the head free, leaning down to grab the bag he had gotten, and dropped the head inside of it.

"You need to warn the other houses. There was one demon who got away." Calanon said softly. "House Naur and the troops from the human kingdom will be swift to crush any resistance they see if we are unprepared. There will be much bloodshed."

Staring out into the distance he nodded to himself lightly, as if agreeing with his choice. "She would not have wanted that."

Calmly, he started to walk out of the doorway without another word. "Goodbye, Nieri."

[Kathryn Lacey]

Nieri Mahtar’s heart was tormented as she watched Calanon finally move. She wanted so badly to understand how something so monstrous could ever have happened in this community. She wanted to know what those creatures were whose bodies had blemished such a beautiful home, who had likely been the cause of Lady Laucamiluiel Fael’s death. How did they even get into the city, into the Kingdom? However, she said nothing more that her first question, for Calanon had not seemed inclined to answer even that question, and she did not wish to press him during such a time of woe. The fae-elf also wasn’t sure that her voice wouldn’t crack with sorrow if she tried to speak again, for her throat seemed choked with her emotion, and it was a great struggle to simply hold back her tears.

Laucamiluiel had been a wonderful woman and a wonderful leader. She had been generous, kind, and understanding. She had never shown Nieri anything other than those things. Never once had she acted as if the younger female was less simply because her mother had not been an elf, and she had been a fantastic mother to her son though he was a bit strange to most other elves as well. Lady Fael had not simply been a friend to Nieri, but she had also been like family, and now she was gone, and Calanon seemed to have born witness to her demise.

Her dark, saddened eyes looked away as the large male placed his mother gently upon the floor. This moment was for him, and it felt like an intrusion to witness it. She heard the tender words he spoke to his mother, and her heart clenched painfully at them.

His next movement was so sudden and so unexpected that Nieri was caught completely off guard. One moment, he was crouched, and she was standing behind him, and the next, his large hand was at her throat, and pain seared through her, and the air was forced from her lungs as her back hit the wall. The wreath of flowers atop her head slipped and fell to the floor with a soft rustle. However, she was not so untrained that she didn’t react at all. One dagger fell from her right hand, but the other dagger remained secure, and it was held to his throat. Her left hand shot into the air to grip his wrist as a blade of his own – a design she couldn’t recognize – came down to her face. Her muscles screamed as she tried to keep his powerful arm from lowering, from sinking that strange knife into her.

A horrifying thought moved through her that perhaps Calanon himself had gone berserk in his rage and in his sorrow. It was something she had never seen happen to an elf though it occasionally occurred within beastmen and humans. Such a powerful rage would take them that they could not tell friend from foe. In that instant, he looked as if he could be part beastman, and she felt fear that he would kill her. However, even as her left arm strained and her blade dug a little harder into his neck – not quite breaking the skin – she was able to recognize that this was not what had happened to him. Nieri was not strong enough to have stopped his blade for this long, for he was powerfully built, and she was merely made for speed.

Then he spoke, and horror filled her as understanding moved through her mind. Those creatures were demons, and from his words, they had been in guise of beastmen. That meant… Nieri had brought them here herself, unwittingly. How had she been so deceived? How could she have not sensed something? It was her fault that Laucamiluiel was dead and that Calanon felt such pain. She deserved his wrath, for her stupidity, her unawareness had been the cause of all of this. The tears she had tried to hold back in order to be strong for him began to fall as several terrible emotions took over her. What could she possibly say to him now, knowing that the death of the one dearest to him was gone because of her? That loathing in his eyes was well placed, for she would look at herself in such a way if she had been in his place.

Nieri felt his grip around her throat slacken and leave her altogether. Though she had not tried to defend herself against his accusations, something had informed him that she had not known of this deception, that she was not guilty of knowingly bringing such terrible creatures into the Elf Kingdom. Her arms dropped to her sides in defeat as he left the room, and her tears slipped silently over her cheeks. Her eyes passed from one body to another, and something clicked in her head. Where was the third? There had been three beastmen, and all three had been missing from the feast when she had come to find Lady Fael. Did that mean that the other was simply dead elsewhere, or was it free to harm others?

She was about to ask Calanon as he returned, and her lips parted to speak, but no sound emitted from her mouth. The look on her face made her afraid to speak, and she worried that if she spoke, the very sound of her voice would cause that look of malice and disdain to move over his face again as it had when he’d pinned her to the wall and threatened her life.

Nieri winced as Calanon calmly went about removing a broken blade from the head of one demon and decapitating the other demon's body. It disturbed her that he was so calm and collected about defiling even creatures who had committed such an evil act. She thought it unlikely that he had killed before this, and when she had made her first kill, she had not even had the stomach to recover her blade from the man’s throat. Murder was disturbing to no matter what the circumstances, so she preferred to incapacitate rather than take lives. However, Calanon reacted differently. She could practically feel the icy rage radiating from his muscled form, and she wondered if that was the only reason he was able to take such actions.

Her tears had ceased as he’d begun his work, and she knew they would not come again for a time. Just as she decided to finally ask about the third demon, he spoke. Men were coming… Dread filled her. Would this be another near-genocide like in the Fae Kingdom? Could she withstand seeing her people destroyed and scattered once more? Then he said something that made her blood run cold. Lord Naur would not help, and he would keep his men from helping. Her dark eyes widened at that, and an inkling of understand moved through her. Lord Naur had political aspirations, and now the one elf standing in his way was dead. Had he allied with the demons to accomplish this? Were men also the allies of these demons? It was the only thing that made sense. She felt ill, and she crouched to retrieve her fallen dagger.

Then his work was done with the demon, and its head was secured inside the produce bag. Then he told her of a task she had already been planning in her mind, but she had intended for him to do this with her. She had thought that was why he had taken the foul creature’s head, as proof of what had happened. However, his words to her did not include himself, and at the end of it, her bid her goodbye with such finality that she suddenly understood something terrible.

"I love you, Mother. I will not be far behind you…"

“No!” She cried firmly, and she moved through the doorway and cut him off swiftly. She placed her hand on his chest, heedless of the red and black blood that mingled and stained his robes. Her face was set, determined. He may hate her for what she had accidentally brought upon the kingdom, but she didn’t hate him. She mustered all the authority she had utilized over the past seven years, ever since the true leader of the search-and-rescue mission – Ohtar – had given his life to save hers. “You’re not dying today, Calanon Fael. I would stop you from your mission of revenge if the rest of the kingdom was not at stake because I fear killing in cold blood would destroy i vëaner your mother raised you to be. I will only tell you that I hope you will not destroy yourself tonight, that I hope you will make the right decision: to kill only to protect.”

She met his eyes one last time before leaving, hoping he could read the message in them. I care for you, Calanon. I do not want to lose you, too.

Clutching her skirts in one fist to keep them from hindering her movement, she ran back toward the feast, the full moon lighting her way, giving her strength despite the fact that she was weary. She knew she could not go to the High Council, for their demands of proof to back her word would waste precious time. They would also likely alert House Naur of her accusations, and that would make things difficult. Lord Naur was very charismatic, and he could rally people to his side better than she could. Instead, she took a different route.

She rushed through the crowd of those who rejoiced at the feast, heading straight for the tables where the five elves who had gone with her on her mission sat and ate and talked. It was not difficult to rally them to her side, for they had fought together for too long to not trust one another at their word. Discreetly, they stood and made their ways to other tables where people who could be good allies were to spread the word. The dwarf who had joined them agreed to take up his axe for them while the four fae who had been with them agreed to use their magicks to help. The seven elves who had once been rescued also agreed to take up arms.

“My goodness, Nieri! What has happened to your throat?” Tinwë’s voice sounded behind her. She must have seen her niece flitting from table to table – as if in simple conversation. The fae-elf’s slender fingers moved to her neck and felt it flaking strangely.

“Aunt, I must speak to you, but you must pretend as if everything I say to you is amusing or regular. You must not exhibit shock or fear. Do you understand?” Tinwë did not look as if she understood, but she nodded.

“Councilwoman Fael has been murdered by demons who have infiltrated the Kingdom in the guise of the beastmen who accompanied me. I did not know it; none of my party could tell, but we are sorry for our lack of insight. Two were destroyed, but one still lives and could be anywhere.” Tinwë looked alarmed for a moment before she plastered a false smile onto her face to cover it. Nieri was grateful for this. “The humans have found our Kingdom as well, and they will soon attack us. Lord Naur is working with both the demons and the men, so he will not be of any help to us. We must not let him know our thoughts which is why discretion is so important. Speak to you husband. We need as many elves as possible to take up arms and to use magic to protect the kingdom.”

Tinwë nodded slowly and placed a hand upon Nieri’s shoulder. “I will do this. I trust you as I always trusted my brother. You are so like him in so many ways. Your father is proud of you. Quickly, go change and get your weapons. I will tell the masses you are weary from your travels, but I will spread your words to those we may trust.”

More than anyone, Nieri trusted her aunt to know the difference between the trustworthy and potential enemies. She would know exactly who was in House Naur’s pockets and who was not fond of that house. “Thank you, Aunt Tinwë.”

At that, she rushed back to the room where she had left her weapons. She changed into her armor which was now clean and dry - likely do to household magicks – and she strapped her weapons to her body. Several knives were placed around her person for both convenience and for secrecy in case she needed the element of surprise in an attack, and her bow and quiver of arrows were slung across her back.

Nieri Mahtar was ready for war.

[Misery]

Nieri was approaching her thoughts from an unbroken mind. Somewhere inside of Calanon's mind it occurred to him that what he was doing was grotesque, even wrong to defile his enemies in such a way. And yet through it all there was a haze of rage. They had taken from him and in the depths of his core there was no longer anything to feel other than that rage. A part of him recognized the crude nature of it as black blood flecked across his outfit and his arms, but he kept cutting as if he were more machine than man. Simply a tool of his rage. He could feel Nieri's eyes on him, and he knew that she would likely never look at him the same after this, but those thoughts were a distant whispers to the screaming agony and pain that was filling every second of his being. This was necessary, and so he would do it, there could not be a completion without this.

As he tossed the demoness' head in the bag, he told Nieri what she would need to let the elf kingdom defend itself. He watched as her face held the horror his own once would have had at this news. The horror that he had felt at learning it had come, and then been swept away in a sea of grief that came with watching the gruesome death of his mother, leaving him helpless to do anything. Now the home that had once held so many precious memories was a building, as empty a shell as he had become, devoid of any meaning. He knew that it would likely burn to the ground, and be destroyed in the coming battle, but the thing that had made it home had died in his arms, along with everything inside of him that could feel.

His task complete, he reached back to touch the black blade behind him. He could feel it now, feel it's evil as he touched it. It was a corrupt blade, something born of hatred and malice, and no amount of purification could turn it for a force of good. It was like a fount of malice and anger at his fingertips, and yet he pulled his fingertips away from the blade as easily as if it had been a hunting knife. Calanon could not feel more hatred and rage than he already felt at this moment, and had already past the point where actions would be taken, if the very spirits from the sky stood in his way and tried to bar his path. He would accomplish what he had set out to do, and then, only then could he finally die, finally rest in peace alongside the one person who had truly cared for him in this miserable existence.

"No!" the ranger shouted and stepped in front of him.

Calanon's eyes widened with rage, and had they alone been capable of it, Nieri would have been felled in her place in that moment as she blocked his path. "You are in my way." Calanon uttered, each word darker than the next as he stared her down. The context of it was clear. He would go through her if he had to in order to get what it was that he sought. He did not know it, if she would understand it, but he would fight every elf in this damned kingdom in order to get to the one that he wanted to get to right now. She uttered her words to him as the two of them stared each other down, but they fell upon deaf ears. They were words of hope, and honor. They were the words that heroes spoke of in the tales that Calanon used to stay up late listening to Mother read by the soft magical lamps.

But that is all they were, children's tales. She pleaded with him to have honor that the enemy did not, uphold ideals that his enemy would use against him. She wanted for him to be the very thing that his mother had tried to make him promise that he would be. But his mother had died, and he, having been stupid and unknowing had refused her, in those last moments, the promise that she had desired. And making that promise to her now would not bring the spirit back to her. If her spirit could somehow hear him it made no indication of it. There were no promises to offer her anymore, no reason to be a light in this filthy forsaken pit of an existence.

Calanon simply stared at her until she dashed out into the night. And then followed her out the door into the darkness. Unlike her, he did not run, he imagined that he would need all of his strength for what was ahead. He did not know what waited for him inside of the place of celebration, for all he knew he could enter and instead of festivities there could be a host of elven archers waiting to shoot him down. Somewhere inside of him he knew that there was the very real possibility that his task would not be achieved, but only sweet oblivion could stop him from trying it now. Not even Nieri's sweet words could assuage the boiling fury that his muscles trembled with as he got closer and closer to the hall of celebration.

As he stepped through the open doorway, he heard the sounds of merriment, of celebration that was still taking place. While Nieri had managed to whisper in the ears of the houses and get them to send for their own men, most of them were discreet enough not to abandon the celebration altogether, lest it arouse suspicions. In fact there was still dancing, and the smell of wonderful food was almost enough to distract Calanon's nose from the blood that he was soaked with... almost.

When the ragged, bloody looking elf entered, however, the festivities came to a slow, but crashing halt. Elves turned to look at the one of them who had been an outsider standing there, soaked in blood, a broken sword in his hand and a murderous look in his eye. Slowly they began to back away from him, a widening circle as he slowly walked into the grand hall, his yellow eyes searching all of their faces for the one that he was looking for now, the one he needed to face to end all of this.

As the crowd parted, one did not move. A fair haired elf who stood before him with tears in his eyes as he bowed his head lightly in what might be shame, or perhaps pity. Calanon stared through him as he started to move forward. It was not the elf that Calanon was interested in, even if this elf happened to be interested in him at this moment. There was nothing that could be said between them any longer, nothing that could be done to mend the rift that the elf had made in their friendship.

"Broth-... Calanon... I... It was not supposed to be like thi-"

With a swift motion Calanon twisted to the side to gather energy as he passed the elf and then snapped back at him, slamming the hilt of his broken broadsword into the elf's jaw so violently that it broke with a sickening crack and a cry of pain from Suiadan as he crumpled to the ground, the commotion finally catching the attention of the musicians who finally stopped, and at that point all eyes were now on Calanon, even those who had not noticed the initial murmuring at his entry. Calanon stared at them for a moment as he went to the middle of the hall, drawing in a breath as he screamed out.

"Aradan Naur!" Calanon bellowed so loudly that he could have overpowered the musicians had they still been playing. He spoke the given name of Suiadan's father like it was a curse upon his lips, his tone seething with contempt as he said it. In the distance Calanon heard the sound of sword singing from it's scabbard and looked, expecting to see Naur, but instead saw Arbellason in the crowd, the swordmasters eyes filled with more fear than Calanon had ever seen in them. Were there room in his mind for anything else, he might have pondered at it, but instead drew a breath to bellow again when Aradan pushed his way through the crowd, his retainers at his side, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Calanon, what is the meaning of this?" the elf exclaimed, his brows knitting lightly in confusion.

Calanon wanted to correct him, to tear out Aradan's tongue for defiling his name by speaking it, but instead shook it off and focused on the one thing that he had come to do, the one thing that no one else could stop him from doing. Blades thrown might have been deflected, spells might have been interrupted, but there was only one thing that had come to Calanon's mind that fit this situation, one thing that he did not believe Aradan Naur would ignore, even surrounded by retainers as he was.

Pulling out his blade, he dragged it across his palm, cutting the skin lightly. To the side he could hear Arbellason fighting to make his way through the crowd that separated him and Calanon, for the old man already realized what he was about to do.

"I, Calanon, Lord of House Fael, declare Maeth Agar upon you, Aradan." Calanon said, squeezing his hand hard enough that the blood collected at the bottom of his hand and began to drip to the ground in a steady stream. There were whispers from the other elves as soon as he did it, and finally the grizzled swordmaster managed to finally push his way through the crowd, standing there staring at the ragged form of Calanon incredulously.

"I did not instruct you about that so that you could use it, Calanon," Arbellason growled. "The Blood Duel has not been evoked since centuries before the end of the War against The Dark."

"But it has not been abolished. You told me so yourself, Arbellason." Calanon shot back, not looking away from Aradan, whose face was starting to turn somewhat red with anger.

"How dare you challenge my honor and assault my blood..." Aradon growled, his hand resting upon the hilt of his blade. "Were I more prone to anger I would fell you where you stand for having the audacity-"

"'The just do not fear the blades of the weak and cowardly.' Those were your words, were they not, Aradan?" Calanon fired back, spreading his arms wide. "You speak of honor as if you know what it is, instead of being a traitor to your people. If you are so affronted by the words that I speak then silence me, Lord of Traitors, or would you prefer to slink off to your hole to plot the murder of more innocent elves?" Calanon snarled the last words as he leveled the hilt of his blade at Aradan in order to challenge him with it. But it was the hellforged steel he planned to use in this fight, so that even a minor wound could be potentially fatal.

The elves about stood in uncomfortable silence. Even Arbellason did not say anything as Calanon had hoped he would. Maeth Agar was an old challenge, but honor still was a highly sought commodity amongst the elven people. By avoiding a dual now, Aradan risked losing faith in the eyes of the very elves that he had hoped to sway to his cause. Calanon had trapped him in an impossible situation, and by doing so had allowed himself the one thing that he wanted more than anything else in this world. A chance to kill the one who had marked his mother for death, who had been willing to have her tortured and murdered simply in order to solidify his place as head of a meaningless council.

"What is the MEANING of this." A voice bellowed as the High Chairman pushed his way through the crowd. Calanon set his teeth lightly at the intrusion. This was not something he had expected.

"I have challenged Aradan to Maeth Agar," Calanon said coldly, staring at the other elf.

"Why?"

Calanon's eyes narrowed at the question, but he turned to look at Aradan then, his eyes narrowing. "Because he gave the order to have my mother, The Lady Laucamiluie of House Fael murdered, as she was this very night. Further his troops will allow the forces of Man to enter our woods unmolested this very night." Calanon growled out, looking as Aradan's faced turned so red that he thought it might explode.

"This is absurd, the boy has gone mad. He should be sent to a healer rather than-"

Calanon reached into his bag at that moment, pulled out the demon head and threw it so violently to the ground at Aradan's feet that black blood flecked across the other elf's face as the head arched through the air. Aradan looked mortified that he had blood on him and worked to wipe it off, which only smeared it against his features. "What is the meaning-"

"The head of a demon you sent to torture my mother before she died." Calanon said.

The Chairman of the High Council stared at the head in disbelief, but Arbellason had already moved to Calanon's side upon the presentation of this evidence, his steely stare focusing on the Lord of House Naur at this point. "It is a demon's head, Aradan. I remember them well from the Dark War. Where would the boy get this, if it was some fantasy that he made up in his mind?"

"This is insane, I do not need to listen to these allegations." Aradan said stepping back, his retainers starting to close around him. "Nor do I need to prove my honor to an elf who is little more than a child."

"Call me what you want, but I will kill you, even if it means carving through your guards to do so." Calanon growled.

"You will not act without proof!" The Head of the Council bellowed, desperately trying to restore order to the tense moment, but as he uttered the words their came a cry of horror from the crowd, and all eyes drew then to the large set of windows to the east. Where once there had been the dark of night, now there was a bright crimson glow.

The elven woods were burning.

By the time Calanon glanced back, Aradan was already retreating, his retainers acting like a vanguard as he pushed his way through the panicking crowd.

"ARADAN!" Calanon screamed as his blade met the resistance of the first of the retainers, noting Arbellason keeping another off his back as he fought, but the Lord of House Naur had already escaped into the night.

[Kathryn Lacey]

Nieri had felt a sense of dread as she’d parted ways with Calanon. She had the feeling he hadn’t listened to a word she’d said, hadn’t wanted to listen. His had been a mask of fury, a mask of pain, blank to her pleas. All she could do was hope that when the time came, he would remember her words and do the right thing.

She changed into trousers and her leather armor as quickly as possible. She donned gauntlets as well to protect her wrists. As quickly as possible, she secured her long hair into a simple braid to ensure it would be out of her way as she fought, for she knew that there would be a bloody battle waged this night.

The fae-elf left the chamber and moved to a decent distance from the celebration hall. Seven of those who had been in her original party were there, including two of the fae, and five of the elves – two of whom were part of the original seven who had formed the mission ten years ago. The other thirteen were still at the feast as she’d requested so as not to raise any suspicion. Along with the eight of them who were there, six more people from the various Houses had arrived, armed and ready.

“Thank you all for being discreet. This is a very serious situation, and it must be handled carefully.” She spoke quietly, but the night was silent save for the chirping of insects. “House Naur and its allies must not discover that we know their secret. They have become traitors to our Kingdom, and they are allowing soldier of men to pass through our trees and into our land to harm us, to try to take us over as they have never been able to do before this point. I want to position the archers around the city’s perimeter, but you must be careful because some of Naur’s men may be stationed around these areas as well. If you find one, they should be taken out however you deem fit so long as they are no longer able to participate in battle against us. I will be searching for them and taking them out as well before I set up my own post. The rest of you will lie in wait on the ground, watching for the men.”

One of the elves with whom she had never fought spoke, “How do you know House Naur is involved? Do you have proof?” The two fae and five elves who had fought so hard with her all glared at him.

“None that I can show to you. You must simply trust my word. If you don’t believe you can do that much, go back to the feast where you can celebrate while the men slaughter our people and destroy our homes.” Her voice was cold as she spoke, and it was clear she would not tolerate having her honor questioned. He became silent, the certainty in her voice serving as proof enough for him. She told them where they would be stationed, and they all separated, dividing into groups of two – one ground person to every archer – they set off. Pilin was beside her, ready with his staff.

They did not speak. Now was not the time for it, and they both understood their duties. They made their way to the likeliest area where the men would enter. Having battled men before, she knew they tended to wear heavy, bulky armor that slowed their paces and served to tire them more easily. They would want the quickest entrance to the city while still being discreet. Nieri wished she had known who served to guard the boarders so she would know exactly where Naur’s men were placed, but even if she had the names, who could really say how far his reach extended?

Nieri cast a glamour over herself, helping her to blend into her surroundings, and she extended it outward, to Pilin. When she started climbing, he would no longer be near enough to her for the glamour to cloak him, but by then, he would be securely hidden, so it wouldn’t matter. They crept through the trees, resembling their surroundings as they moved toward an area where they knew a platform to be. These platforms were used by archers. She knew where all of them were, for when an elf was instructed in archery, they were informed of the various platforms around the kingdom, and she had familiarized herself with the ones around the city and through the woods around it to the borders.

The fae-elf stopped quietly at a tree and began to stealthily climb the back side of it. She was careful to avoid stirring the leaves as she moved, and after a short moment of agility, she found exactly that for which she was looking. The platforms were different sizes depending on where they were located, and this was one of the smaller ones. An archer, dressed in black, was positioned at the edge, her back to Nieri and her arrow drawn and ready. Though she lacked her mother’s wings, her fae parentage had granted her a certain lightness of foot to which even the elves could not attest, and this one did not hear her silent approach. In one swift movement, she drew a knife and sliced it across the front of the archer’s throat, pulling her back swiftly so the blood would not fall to the ground but pool on the platform instead. Leaving the body where it was, she moved to the edge and dropped, landing as softly as a feline.

She and Pilin traveled from platform tree to platform tree, taking out as many archers as possible. It didn’t slip her notice that they were all facing toward the celebration hall. Had they been ordered to shoot anyone who looked like they’d resist on sight? If so, it had definitely been wise of her to tell everyone to be so discreet, for they had mostly feigned weariness or some other seemingly valid excuse to get away from the building. They would have shot the group had they been seen while they plotted, but they had had good cover under trees and shrubs.

As Nieri crept up on the final traitor in her area, the elf relaxed his grip on his bow and side with boredom. However, as he sighed, his head moved to the side, and no matter how good her glamour was, seeing movement in such a close proximity had given her away. He started and drew his bow again, but she reached him before he could release it. The heel of her hand smashed into his nose, causing blood to spurt from his face. He dropped his bow and arrow, but drew his dagger and slashed at her. She was too quick, stabbing through his hand with her knife, forcing him to drop his weapon from pain. Then she slit his throat like she did to all the others. Traitors could not live. She had learned the hard way that allowing the enemy to live now only allowed them the chance to kill her later – or to kidnap her.

Pulling the body to the center of the medium-sized platform, she crept to the edge, sheathed her blades, and removed her bow and an arrow. Knocking the arrow, she waited. Pilin would be her cover on the ground to ensure no one did to Nieri what she had done to them. Her eyes swept over the area, and she heard sounds that brought greater tension to her muscles. Humans were loud, especially in areas with which they were unfamiliar, and this was no exception. She was sure the moon-dappled darkness wasn’t helping them, instead teasing their eyes with light only to change suddenly if the leaves of the trees moved. However, she couldn’t see them. They seemed to be covered by the building, but she had her people on that side. She would trust them and continue to…

A flickering caught her eye, growing larger as another sound came to her. Fire… The trees were burning! She witnessed a figure silhouetted against the flames as they spread from tree to tree. Nieri felt ill. They hadn’t tried to burn the area when they’d attacked the fae, but the fae were weak enough that it wouldn’t matter. The men had just made it so the elves in the hall would have only one escape. Thankfully, she had taken out the archers who had been ready for it, and she was ready for the men now. She loosed her arrow as soon as she noticed the glint of metal on the figure she’d witnessed. He fell forward as the point slipped its way into his side where the armor didn’t quite cover.

Elves began to work to extinguish the flames with water and with magic, but the soldiers came to cut them down as they did so. As more men came into sight, she shot them, too. She continued shooting until all of her arrows and those of the dead archer had been exhausted which seemed to take little time.

Finally, she saw three people emerge from the hall, and she felt a pang. Calanon was with Arbellason with the dwarf - Vorin, son of Voili - and she knew she would have to join them. She leapt from her perch, hitting the soft earth with hardly a rustle. “Time for hand-to-hand. Are you ready, Pilin?” He nodded, and they rushed forward. A man was sneaking behind her friend and her blade instructor. He wasn’t very near, and he paused as he aimed his crossbow at them. Nieri unsheathed a blade and flung it toward the soldier, and it met its mark at the back of his neck, right beside his spine. It would have severed the artery due to the force and the length of the blade, and she watched him fall, watched as Arbellason and Calanon turned toward her and Pilin. She hastened toward the soldier she’d just felled and ripped her dagger from his throat. “I shot as many as I could from up high, and more of my people will have done the same, but I ran out of arrows. We will fight by your sides.”

[Misery]

Calanon growled as the remains of his sword met elvish steel. His weapon was heavier and should have easily broken through the metal, but the elf weapons were superior to those of man, and so despite the force that he used, the rapier held against even his heaviest blows. Worse, he could feel the way that the elf was guiding his weapon. This elf had actually trained at it longer than he had, and so with each blow the elf seemed to effortlessly parry it, using far less power than Calanon was putting himself into the blows. Calanon recognized the tactic from his training with Arbellason. Unfortunately he hadn't actually gotten to the part where he had actually learned the right thing to do about it.

Growling as his blade was deflected again to the side, Calanon did what came instinctively. He rammed into the surprised elf, shoulder first. He could feel a complaint of pain from the elf who went flying backward, having not expected the sudden movement.

The room was starting to get into a panic, swords from the elves faithful to the High Chairman clashing with those who were siding with House Naur. Calanon was mortified to see how elven houses had actually decided to side with Naur, despite the allegations that he had waged against the Lord of House Naur.

Arbellason, unlike Calanon, seemed to have no trouble whatsoever dispatching elves. The older elf wasted so little in movement and energy that he betrayed how amateur the others were compared to him. Those who came at him would lightly get tapped to the side and then cut by his blade. Those that waited and tried to defend themselves would find themselves nicked before they could react, then cut elsewhere when they tried to defend against the first wounding blade. To make matters worse for them, the grizzled elf wielded not one but two swords of medium length. One of them was so black that it looked like the night itself while the other one shone so brilliantly it looked like it pratically glowed in the darkness.

The sword trainer danced amongst the elves who dared to face him, many of which fled at the very prospect of it. The older elf showed them mercy, where Calanon would have been happy to let them burn the way they wanted to seem the entire kingdom to. Still, those who tried to stop the older elf were quickly dispatched, and if they fought to the last breath the elf would take it from them without so much as a flicker of anger on his features. Calanon was shocked to note that the elf seemed as calm in this situation as he did teaching Calanon or an entire classroom full of elves, and it made him wonder if to Arbellason this was something more than just a different sort of lesson.

Still, despite it, the pair of them were getting outnumbered quickly. The elves defending were moving to the woods in order to stop the men from coming. Calanon knew that it was what needed to be done in order to save the wood. He had expected that the men would react with fire to destroy everything rather than try to fight a harder struggle against a divided Elf Kingdom, but while he knew that Mother had loved this place above all else, what he wanted more than to save what she cared for was revenge. Aradan was no longer visible, but he could not be hiding behind too many guards, and Calanon would kill all that stood in his way in order to get to the one elf he wanted to die more than any other.

As if to answer his challenge, a score of new elves rushed to join the fray of those fighting, and Calanon could see those who had once been defending starting to retreat. This place would soon be filled with enemies, and collateral damage would no longer be something that he would need to worry about if he began to use spells. He wasn't the best mage by any means amongst the elves, not even amongst his class, but he did have a nasty habit of creating big explosions when they came from him, something that he had never thought he would have a use for until tonight. With the defenders out of the way he would have an opportunity to truly unleash his rage.

"We need to retreat. There are too many of them." Arbellason growled from behind him as he slew another one of his attackers.

"They're opening themselves up to be mowed down en mass." Calanon shouted back. "All I need to do is get the right spell off, and..."

"And you'll be cut down by their fighters before you've uttered a few syllables, boy." Arbellason growled as he turned to look at Calanon. "I trained you better than to throw your life away. If we stay here then we are going to die."

"Do you think that after the events of tonight, I fear death?!" Calanon growled, turning to face his mentor, his eyes alight with anger. "If it dares to take me let it come for me then, I welcome it."

Arbellason growled lightly and shook his head. "Then I leave you to throw your life away, Calanon. Aradan is gone, and all that waits here for you is death. I hope that your last moments will not force you to reflect on your failure to either honor your mothers memory OR to get the revenge that you so desperately seem to crave." And with that Arbellason turned and began to swath a path through the men that stood in his way, cutting them down with his blades as neatly as if he were dancing merrily through them.

Calanon's eyes bore into the back of his instructor as the man seemed content to leave him. The point had been made, and burned into Calanon's mind. He would shortly be alone in this hall, and if he were to fall, there would be nothing he had accomplished, save to join Mother in the next life. Being able to see Aradan's face as the life was forced from him the way that it had been his mother would be denied him forever.

The sound of rustling metal grabbed Calanon's attention as the dwarf he had knocked over before started to charge him, and Calanon felt a wave of fury consume everything inside of him. He was helpless once again, helpless to enact the revenge that he wanted, helpless to do anything. Letting out a roar of anger he pulled back his fist and slammed it into the elf's chest, letting all of his rage and fury out in that single blow, watching as the elf flew backward and slammed against a wall. Calanon turned then and stormed after Arbellason, a dark glare on his face as he fled from the hall before the swath that had been cut could reform behind the swordmaster.

Behind him, unseen by Calanon, the elf gasped in futility for breath, the breast plate that had meant to shield him from swords had caved in violently at the sheer force of the punch and now constricted his lungs to the point where getting his breath was now impossible. Amongst the crowd he crumpled, unable to even scream out over the sounds of battle for help.

Calanon gritted his teeth as he rushed behind Arbellason, not even noticing the elf following behind them until a blade cut throat the night and the would be assassin gurgled as he vainly reached up to grip at the knife in his neck before falling to the ground. Blinking a little at the simple elegant brutality of it, Calanon was surprised to see Nieri as the owner of such a weapon of death. He had known that she was regarded as one of the better thieves and rangers in the kingdom, but for whatever reason it had never actually equated in his mind to killing people, especially not with such brutal efficiency.

"The boy and the dwarf will take up the front." Arbellason growled, "Nieri and I won't be far behind. Try not to get yourselves in too much trouble." Clearly the older elf was used to barking orders when it came down to it, and Calanon nodded as did the dwarf, who gave a smirk.

"And here I was thinkin this would be a stuffy party." The dwarf said with a wide grin. "Well, c'mon kid, looks like we get first dibs at some skull breakin!" With a loud cry the dwarf dashed off into the fray, Calanon quickly on his heels, rushing after the dwarf, eager to get into the fray. The dark haired elf was still angry, and could feel a desire to let that anger explode outward into action, regardless of what form that it happened to take.

As the pair jumped into the fray, Arbellason turned towards Nieri, gripping her shoulder as he stared into her eyes, seeming to measure the weight of her soul in them. "We may have to kill Calanon." He said flatly. "He holds a power he does not understand, and in his current state if it is unleashed, it could be more dangerous to our home than the entire kingdom of Men. We must watch him, but if the time comes that he loses control, and I have to take his life, I will need you to be at my side on this. Will you do this for me, Nieri?"

[Kathryn Lacey]

Nieri chanced a glance at Calanon as she finished speaking. The look on his face was one of surprise, but there was something more there as he regarded her, something indescernable. What did he think of her now that he’d watched her take a life? Did he respect her more knowing that she could take a life? Did she disgust him more for it? She had not liked seeing him hack at the bodies of the demons no matter how foul they had been, but he was still a child. One so young should not have to feel so set on vengeance, and she knew that thirst for blood had not left him; it was still there at the back of his eyes. The fae-elf did not kill for revenge or for imagined justice; she took lives to save lives.
He said nothing to her, nothing that could reveal his thoughts in any way. What would he have said to her anyway? What could she have said to him? His mother, Nieri’s friend, had been murdered because of her carelessness. She should have known; how could she not have realized? Her gut clenched with guilt all over again.

Arbellason’s words cut through her thoughts, bringing her attention back to the present. On his command, Vorin and Calanon moved to the front, and Nieri instructed Pilin to take the center while she and the blade instructor took the back. Her changeling eyes watched as the three jumped into the fray, Pilin excellently taking out men with his staff while the dwarf and Calanon fought side-by-side. Nieri was set to follow them, but Arbellason gripped her shoulder, and they faced one another. The look in his eyes was dead serious.

"We may have to kill Calanon." He said flatly. "He holds a power he does not understand, and in his current state if it is unleashed, it could be more dangerous to our home than the entire kingdom of Men. We must watch him, but if the time comes that he loses control, and I have to take his life, I will need you to be at my side on this. Will you do this for me, Nieri?"

The fae-elf hesitated. She knew that sometimes the demands of war forced people to make tough choices, but this was a choice she didn’t want to have to make. It was made all the more difficult by his asking for her blind faith. What sort of power did Calanon have? She knew he was extremely strong, but she also knew he could control himself. He could have killed her when she’d shown her face at his home, but he hadn’t. He’d looked her in the eye, and he’d lowered his weapon. He wasn’t a threat to anyone except to his enemies. They could use him. How could Arbellason ask her to help him kill Calanon?

“It won’t come to that, Arbellason.” She replied.

“Nieri, you must understand that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. If killing one will save thousands, we must do it.” His reply gave her pause. Her eyes moved toward the fray. Calanon fought men with great vigor, and she knew his fuel was revenge for the parent he had lost. Nieri had wished to fight for a similar cause when she had lost her parents, but her father had bid her to protect and not to seek vengeance. Would the time come when she would have to protect others from Calanon?

“Yes, Arbellason. If the time comes when we must protect our people from Calanon, I will support you.” It pained her to say it, but her voice did not quaver with the words. The very idea of taking the life of her friend was agony, but she would do what must be done to help her people. In the mean time, she would protect and help Calanon however possible, to take some of his burden so that his death may never be requested of her.

Without any more hesitation, the two who had hung back entered the battle, furious silhouettes against the raging flames. Her knives glinted in the angry light, and the roar of the fire consuming the trees met her ears, but she paid it no heed. Nieri’s duty at this point was to protect those fighting the flames not to fight them herself.

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