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ELYTHENE & ALEXANDER I - The Burning Crosses of Anthos


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I enjoy writing and I especially enjoy writing fantastical stuff. But my writing, structure and the like is mediocre at best and still needs practice, a lot of it. So before I try anything more ambitious, I'm writing a few lotc stories. This is one of them, anchored vaguely around OCs from the Anthos era. It’s quite long and probably has a bunch of errors, but I hope someone can get a degree of enjoyment out of it. Semi mature themes kinda so if you don’t like that don’t read or whatever

 


ᴇʟʏᴛʜᴇɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅᴇʀ

Bᴏᴏᴋ I 丨 Tʜᴇ Bᴜʀɴɪɴɢ Cʀᴏssᴇs ᴏғ Aɴᴛʜᴏs

 

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“Malinor delenda est.”

Kaedreni Battlecry, 15th Century FA

 

 

 

Alexander Anacarè threw himself at pace into another of the narrow and stinking alleyways adjacent to the brick streets of Kingston. Many colourful words described, with adriotte accuracy, how his day had gone so far. Fortuitously was not one of them. Seeing an opportunity just ahead, the young man halted in his stride and shunted to the left, taking cover behind a small, broken wall. If GOD really had the merciful character all the priests claimed, the wall would shield him from the view of his heavily armed pursuers. A moment later and a voice suggested that the choice to hide had been the right one. “Ser.” an uptight, regimental voice addressed, with a submissive tinge that made Alexander's skin-crawl. It, together with the metallic din of iron weapons and armour on stone, came from behind him, probably just outside the alleyway. Just keep going. Just. Keep. Going. Keep going you flowedecked cu- “We lost the deviant. reckon he doubled back towards the gate.” 

 

The revelation that the bloodthirsty ordermen had been thrown off the scent elicited a burst of joyous adrenaline in Alexander’s mind. A smile crossed his lips, and he offered a quick prayer to the seven skies. The feeling was almost, but not quite enough to salve his wounded ego at being called a deviant. Oh well. It was far from the first time ‘deviant’ had been fired in his direction as an insult. “Double time to the gate, we’ll cut him off there.” another voice spoke, this one possessing an undeserved sense of superiority that Alexander recognised as being typical for the so-called knights of this age. He ran a hand through messy, sand-coloured hair, sweeping a few particularly troublesome strands away from his eyes. Then he took a long breath, composed himself for the endeavour to come and gingerly climbed to his feet using the wall as a support. Alright. Lets get out of this hive.

 

Poking his head out of the dark side-street to assess the wide plaza beyond, Alexander inhaled, savouring the fresh air. But although the smell was indeed substantially less foul than it had been within the cramped confines of his dubious sanctuary, the scene awaiting Alexander within the bustling Kingston bazaar was far from encouraging. A busy, open space enclosed by high buildings on three sides and the city wall complete with raised portcullis on the fourth lay between him and salvation. A hollow rectangle of market stalls occupied the centre of the crowded space, each adorned with their owner’s particular variety of product. Alexander’s stomach growled as he directed his blue eyes on a series of tables lavishly decked out with luscious, recently-washed apples of both red and green. Oranges, bananas and other less familiar fruits accompanied them, making that particular stand an eye-catching rainbow of different hues glinting in the midday sun. Its flamboyantly hatted merchant orated to any among the market goers who would hear him, shouting about good prices and tasty food.

 

He made a note to return to this place and make a purchase when the current situation resolved itself, if it resolved itself. Less appealing a sight than the assorted stockpiles of merchandise were the several small groups of soldiers, clad as they were in the all too familiar red and white tabard decorated with the baleful floral rose sigil. Maybe they don’t know yet. Alexander thought to himself, lingering in the alleyway. Then, as though GOD himself saw fit to issue firm punishment for such hubristic thoughts, three familiar sentinels marched into the square, halberds and swords primed for violence, and began speaking to their colleagues. Alexander groaned knowingly, and the apparently heretofore unaware and static soldiers suddenly appeared quite alert and animated indeed. “Damn..” he pined in quiet desperation. This is it, then. 

 

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With little other option, Alexander nonchalantly exited the brittle safety of his lightless haven and leaned on a wall immediately next to it, careful to make it appear as though he had always been there, busy with some insignificant, uninteresting task. A brief, conspiratorial glance around the area revealed no suspicious eyes looking at him. So far, so good. After taking a deep breath, Alexander began a slow, inconspicuous and downright leisurely stroll across the marketplace, strategically aiming for the gap that was equally distant from two patrolling bands of soldiers on either side. About half way between the alleyway and the gate, his heart began to beat with ever increasing rapidity as he passed between the two nearest groups. Suddenly, Alexander registered an abrupt movement out of the corner of his left eye. One of the men-at-arms had turned menacingly in his direction, and his stomach lurched with the malign fear of it. Almost on instinct, Alexander veered slightly off of his intended and admittedly suspicious path to the gate and made for the closest stall, sliding in between various conversing people and showing no indication that he was even aware of the onlooking warrior. 

 

Upon reaching the stall, the mostly inconspicuous youth made an elaborate show of picking up one of the exotic fruits, testing its ripeness with a soft, practiced squeeze and rolling the juicy morsel around in his hand. He was, of course, just a regular patron. Yet another disguised glance revealed, much to Alexander’s triumphant elation, that the overly curious orderman’s interest had been drawn elsewhere. A singular sigh of relief that he didn’t realise he had been withholding escaped his lips. “With me, now!” The obnoxious voice from before called out in urgency, beelining for the gate with a longsword in hand. His subordinates followed along behind, their own weapons at the ready. Finding himself oddly curious now that the immediate threat had dissipated, Alexander weaved his way around the various stalls and the many browsing customers, following the soldiers to the gate. What snatched their attention? The arch of the Kingston gate loomed overhead for a moment, and a moment later he was outside the city limits. Tasting his newfound freedom with a breath of cool air, Alexander looked to the right, where the hunters were busy surrounding their new and apparently more alluring prey. Suddenly, a human who had a great deal of suffering to expect if he was captured by the Kaedreni suddenly felt a great pang of sympathy. 

 

Subject to their crude ire was an incredibly beautiful, olive-skinned she-Elf, whose near perfect visage bore an expression of discomfort and concern that instinctively tugged at the heartstrings. Alexander had never before in his life even glanced at one of these elusive ‘knife-ears’, as those of a more hateful disposition dubbed them. Elven beauty was renowned across the world, male and female alike, but only now did the absolute truth of that reputation strike him. As a carnally motivated lad of gentle birth and handsome aspect, or so, at least, he regarded himself, Alexander had already seen and interacted with several soft women of his own Horenic race who were very easy to look at. The graceful being before him now was something else entirely, a wonder beyond mere description. That indisputable fact could be discerned by the observing fugitive even from where he stood, two dozen or-so metres distant. 

 

The Elfish lady possessed elegant brown hair bound up in an intricate plait that rested on the front of her right shoulder. So simple and aside from the usual scale was the beauty of the Elf’s countenance that she almost looked ordinary. No one special feature distinguished her beauty from that of others. At the same time, no flaw or defect could be observed in her complexion - no wrinkles, no markers of tiredness, no ungainly scars or spots. She was just... absolutely perfect. Like a marble statue of the old heroes made flesh. Alexander had been informed by drinking partners aplenty that Elves were physical paragons, and the unknown woman was clearly no exception, sporting a slender but wiry form telltale of a life lived with purpose. She was clad in what appeared to be hunting equipment mixed with some kind of light armour, and in possession of a bow, as well as a slender, curved blade sheathed at the waist. You picked an ill time to come here, fey one. Alexander ruminated, solemnly. 

 

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Before travelling to Kingston in the bosom of a textile caravan, Alexander considered how little effort he had made to venture beyond the comfortable albeit confined Abresi hinterland. Despite the lack of attention he paid, however, frightful tales still filtered back to the imperial heartland from the Emperor’s northwestern frontier with the Elvish realms. He had refused to believe such hearsay at first, so terrible were the sympathetic whispers of atrocity, but it slowly became clear that there was at least some truth in them. Tales of humanity’s greatest champions also returned that allowed Alexander to piece together something like a patchwork history of current events. 

 

Ably spearheaded by a particularly ruthless and zealous house of Kaedreni warrior-kings, the pious Order of the White Rose, previously just one among many so-called ‘holy orders’ of knights and crusaders, had ballooned to prominence. Upon constructing its titanic keep on the western border, the Order had almost immediately, according to their own dispatches, come into conflict with Elven insurgents. Since that time, the Kaedreni and their fearful brigand allies to the north had inflicted untold suffering on the Elves. Alexander held no particular love for Malin’s folk, but his life so far made him detest barbarous zealots like the Rose. Recalling the things he had learned, he involuntarily found himself picturing the pretty she-Elf mutilated and ignominiously strung up next to the city gates. The thought rankled, and Alexander's blue eyes narrowed in irritation. You are an unimportant little parasite - the worst of us, and you will never do anything worthy of your name. His mother’s words, spoken offhandedly years earlier, stabbed at him still. He might not do anything worthy of his name, but he would do something.

 

Putting on the most indifferent expression he could muster, Alexander ambled forwards and approached the cordon of Order soldiery cornering the hapless Elf against the Kingston wall. The nearest man, fully armoured and wielding a ferocious looking halberd, turned to regard the approaching civilian with a gaze that was, to Alexander’s surprise, reasonably friendly. He was a handsome man too, with a gentler face than might be expected for a man of his martial profession. “What’ve you fine lads snared this time?” Alexander asked the footman with a wry, calculated smirk, nodding in the Elf’s direction. “Aye.” the enlisted man agreed without returning it, briefly looking over his shoulder to where his comrades and the standoffish Elf were exchanging harsh words. “She’s a pretty little thing, but they’re all like that ain’t they, the knife ears?” he questioned. Alexander found himself nodding fervently in response. Don’t let them know what you think of them. “Worry yourself not, goodman, we’ll make sure she doesn’t pull any of those Elven tricks of hers.” Alexander’s head bob this time resembled a restrained bow of gratitude, even though he thought the soldier’s comment bland to a degree. Before he subsequently turned around and began walking away, he thought he saw the Elf give him a hopeful look, which then faded to one of profound desperation. I can get away right now. Alexander considered, before bending down, grasping a large clod of dry earth and launching it overarm at one of the other men-at-arms.

 

The unfortunate target received the projectile aside a helmeted head, making a satisfying ᴛʜᴜɴᴋ. Alexander either possessed a level of precision even he himself had not realised, or it was beginner’s luck. The earthen missile shattered upon impact, its primary victim staggering off to the side under the force of the blow. Bits of shrapnel flew out on all sides as the large chunk of dry mud came apart, not causing any noticeable damage but evoking frustrated exultations from those in its blast radius. The man who had been struck in the head turned around with fire in his eyes, looking wildly for the perpetrator. A few of the others, having picked or blinked specks of dirt out of their mouths or eyes, followed suit immediately thereafter. Included among them was the good looking soldier Alexander had spoken to before. His face displayed something between confusion and anger, but the man lowering his weapon to readiness indicated that it was almost certainly the latter. 

 

Such an abrupt distraction presented the Elf a chance to make a move, whatever it might be. Alexander expected that she would use the respite to dash away and get free with her presumably superior agility. Instead, with a fluid movement and a half-moments’ glance in his direction, this corned wolf reached a hand to her waist and deftly withdrew the curved blade resting there, a strangely un-metallic screech sounding in the air. Then, without wasting a second, the warrioress dipped into range of the handsome soldier in front of her, distracted as he was with Alexander, and delivered a single horizontal slash to his lighty protected throat, her expression not shifting beyond glacial calm the entire time. The man, apparently taken aback by the sheer pace of what had just happened, instinctively reached up to paw at the wound. He dropped to the floor only a moment later, confusion still etched onto his dying face. The Elf bounded over his soon-to-be corpse, evading a number of questing hands that reached out to grab her. Alexander stood there in stunned silence for a brief moment. Then, stirred to action by the mixed noises of shock and anger surrounding the scene, he briskly followed in the Elf’s wake, both his heart and mind racing. 

 

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Bookshelf upon bookshelf of buccaneering adventure books consumed by Alexander in his distant days of youth, though markedly less so in recent months and years, suggested that an epic pursuit across the wide agricultural lands of the west ought to take place. In these fanciful tales, the daring runaways would routinely rely on some absurd combination of riding, leaping and diving to break free from their malevolent pursuers by the skin of their teeth, thereby reaching freedom. The old hat bookworm was both boundlessly relieved and ever so slightly disappointed to learn that the heavily armoured and mercifully cavalry-deficient White Rose dross were far from capable of matching Alexander’s mediocre pace into the western foothills, let alone the swift doe-like prancing of the Elf. In a bout of instinctive self-deprecation, Alexander believed that his prodigious speed relative to the incensed holy warriors almost certainly had more to do with his lightweight silk and linen clothing and their weighty protective equipment, rather than any heretofore concealed prowess in the realm of fitness. After a seemingly extended flight, Alexander felt oncoming tiredness clawing at him. “Wait, wait!” he called out feebly between a pair of exhausted gasps, bending over and resting his hands on his knees in exhaustion. Ugh. He sounded pitiful. The Elf peered over her shoulder mid stride, but initially didn’t seem inclined to stop. Then she did, motivated, Alexander supposed, by the visible lack of immediate peril. Giving her impromptu savior an indecipherable look, she then retraced her steps and jogged in his direction. 

 

A note of anxiety thrummed through Alexander’s unsettled stomach as the woman cautiously drew closer. Uncovering a prideful reserve of strength, the finely dressed young man attempted to scramble to his feet just as the Elf reached him. A firm hand wrapped around his own, pulling him the final distance with surety. Alexander, still partially recovering from the exertion, found himself face to face with the exotic being, and only then realised with conscious clarity that she was actually an individual. It seemed an obvious and perhaps downright stupid thought, but his perception of this intelligent creature had, until that moment, been nothing but a patchwork of overblown stereotypes and observations about how physically appealing she was. The consideration focused Alexander’s mind, prompting him to clear his throat. “Thank you for doing that, son of Horen.” The Elfess said, her voice a melodic whisper in the wind. Alexander opened his mouth. Before he could muster any kind of response, the silvered voice cut him off.  “You cannot return now, the beasts will kill you. Worse, even.” A sudden feeling of cold horror made Alexander frown. He looked up, and the Elf was gazing at him thoughtfully. The horror turned to sudden anger. “Why were you even there? Don’t you know what’s been happening lately?” he said with a petulant huff. 

 

The Elf’s imperious but gentle gaze shifted to one giving an impression of barely-disguised disdain. A bolt of trained expectation made Alexander flinch slightly as his eyes met the venomous look, and an image of the youth’s harridan mother flashed by. The Elf’s harsh expression softened slightly in response to the visible discomfort. Her words though, were icy, a hostile shadow of the gracious thanks from a half minute before. “Your people’s typical madness was not as pronounced last time I visited.” Alexander’s eyes narrowed in offence and the response that left his lips was almost involuntary. “Don’t dare call them ‘mine’ as if I set them on you!” he snapped in a raised voice. “I just helped you kill one of them! If I hadn’t, well, you’d be worse than dead.” he concluded, a hint of anxious disbelief mixed with the evident outrage. Alexander saw a brief chill pass over the belligerent slayer, rendering her all too vulnerable. 

 

Her words were hardly less cold than they had been before. “You did not help me because it was right, son of Horen. I felt your eyes all over me. If the Mali in peril had been less pleasing to leer at, would you have spared my kin a second thought?” The vigorous protest boiling within Alexander died before it left his mouth, giving way to considered silence. He slumped, dejected and demoralised at the Elf’s dismantling treatment. Am I really so rotten? Several seconds of tense silence followed. Neither of the pair moved. “But..-” hesitation poisoned her words for the first time. “..-I probably would be dead without your prodigious aim.” Was that.. humour? Alexander looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Ahernan, again.” she said with a sigh, but the sincerity in her foreign gratitude was obvious. More awkward silence. “Alexander. I’m Alexander. he said at last, showing a forlorn smile that lacked teeth. The Elf seemed to weigh that up for a moment, before speaking in a subdued tone. “Elythene.”

 

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“So lady Elythene-” Alexander began formally, more out of habit than anything else. The gently raised boy only trailed off uncertainly when the Elf turned two dissatisfied eyes in his direction. “-...w-what should I do now?” Elythene’s visible irritation seemed to turn, a single digit lifting to trace her own lips in a form of thoughtful twitch. The fidgeting reminded Alexander of maiden-socialites balming their lips with colour before a ball, but Elythene was performing the notion with her index finger. Nor did this aethereal being seem like the type to attend such base functions. “Well..” she sighed, as though reluctant to say whatever was on her mind. “We cannot stay here, that is for sure.” she said, apprehensively looking around the relatively open grassland. “The soldiers had no horses, fortunately for us, but that will change. They will seek us out, for a while at least.” Alexander remained silent, suddenly aware that he was staring gormlessly rather than maintaining polite eye contact. The recipient of his particularly intense attention didn’t appear to notice, nor care if she did. Instead, she turned her head to the left and pointed in the same direction with one fluid gesture. Alexander followed her gaze. In the distance, the grassland became ever more undulating, moving into an area of forested foothills shrouded from the dull light of evening by a grey cloud. “So we will turn north and enter the forest. The demons will almost certainly not venture so far from the city. They hate my people, but part of that hate is fear. The city and the farm may be your world, valah, but the forest is ours.” For the first time, Elythene’s lips curled in a barely restrained grin.

 

The Elf led took point as the pair continued their journey. Alexander trailed behind more and more as tiredness took its toll, thoughts rampaging through an equally tired mind. After what seemed to the fatigued young man like two hours, but might’ve been substantially more or embarrassingly less, they crossed into the high forests as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Having spoken little since their departure, Elythene pivoted just beyond the treeline and waited for Alexander, almost shambling, to catch up, which, eventually, he did. “Can you not hurry up? I was actually hoping to get some sleep before daybreak.” The complaint met only the blue, exhausted eyes of Alexander, narrowed in mild annoyance. “You say pretty much nothing for the entire trek, then that.” he said, unimpressed. Elythene huffed, either out of amusement or impatience. “We only met one another a few hours ago, and so we have nothing to speak of. Our circumstances have also not been optimal for making casual conversation.” Alexander thought of saying something clever, but decided against it. Does she always have to take me apart like that? 

 

“Okay-” she conceded, beckoning him deeper into the entangling woods with a head movement that flung her plait around like a lash. “What do you know of those murderers today?” A moment of silence reigned as Alexander gathered his collection of mental trivia. In truth, he didn’t need to think so extensively, but to do so would show intelligence and patience. “Remember the rose tabard? Well, they’re called the Order of the White Rose. When we came to this land, they settled the westernmost part of the empire and made it a realm of their own - Kaedrin. I can’t really remember when I started hearing about the killings. It doesn’t surprise me though. Even if most of my people don’t ‘hate’ yours, there is a lot of unkind sentiment. It was only a matter of time before zealots like them became popular.” Elythene tilted her head when confronted with Alexander's passion-tinged conclusion, eyes curious. She almost looked impressed.

 

Not much more time passed before Alexander and Elythene, the latter of whom now consciously slowed down to allow her companion to keep up, passed over the lip of a small elevation within the depths of the forest. Beyond the lip lay a wide, bowl-shaped depression with steep cliffs and a drop of perhaps ten or more times Alexander’s height. A small winding stream cut leisurely through the base of this miniature, half-concealed caldera, splitting into a fork part way across. Clean waters twinkled every so often, catching a particularly potent beam of pale light from the tree-obscured moon. One of the prongs disappeared somewhere beyond view, while the other found its terminus in a small pool towards the far end of the depression, into which it dropped from a small waterfall. It was a beautiful scene indeed. Elythene must’ve noticed the human’s amazement, because when Alexander turned to look at her the Elf bore a distinctly satisfied smirk. “Follow me closely and watch where you step. There’s a way to get down without falling.” 

 

The pair circled the crater almost halfway before Elythene selected a point, apparently at random, and came to a stop. Alexander gave Elythene an affirmative nod and they began an arcane descent, turning and zig-zagging down one of the sheer sides. Elythene, no doubt knowing the path off by heart, had little trouble traversing the rough ground. She peered over her shoulder  periodically to see how her imperfect, round-eared shadow was faring. His steps were less steady and his coordination somewhat lacking, but Alexander believed he was actually not doing so bad. The young man had to stop occasionally, squinting to make out solid ground beneath shin-high vegetation. Fortunately, Elythene always perceived he had done so and waited patiently. Following about ten minutes of careful edging, they finally reached the bottom unharmed. Sighing triumphantly, Alexander inclined his head to look up at the cliff’s apex, somewhat stunned at the remarkable agility he’d shown. He was rewarded with the sight of a large stag ambling proudly about and sniffing at the air.

 

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Alexander’s wayfinding companion followed the path of his gaze and, apparently quite happy with the curious animal’s presence, smiled a joyful smile. The echo of that brief moment of contentment still rested on Elythene’s immaculate face as she turned her eyes back on Alexander, beckoning him onward. “We’re here.” she whispered, as though she didn’t want to disturb the caldera’s tranquility. A small creature of some kind - possibly a squirrel or otter disturbed by the commotion, zipped through the brush on his left, indicating Elythene’s failure on that front. A short walk later and they reached the base of another of the encircling cliffs, this one overhanging slightly and drooping vines which shrouded the hollow beneath it. The Elf peeled back some of the creepers and gestured for Alexander to enter with a stylish movement of her open hand. 

 

After peering apprehensively up at the suddenly threatening looking section of cliff that formed the overhang, he ducked and went inside, followed closely by Elythene, who let the vines fall back into place. “I didn’t even notice this from up there.” the suddenly awestruck lad said, thrusting his hand in a vague upward motion. A melodic, almost enchanting, albeit fleeting note of laughter sounded from behind and Alexander could not help but turn around to look at Elythene. “It is satisfying to watch you gawk at everything.” He felt like he had been turned into some kind of comical pet, and displayed that annoyance with a mild groan. “There are other holes and grottos like this one. I will show you in a while, but rest for now. I will return soon with food.” Alexander perked up at the promise of food, his stomach rumbling just a little.

 

Elythene departed then, leaving behind both him and that intricately carved bow she carried. A strange sensation of rudderlessness could be felt - a feeling that Alexander ought to have been given some instructions or rules by the magisterial Elf. That lack of certainty put him a bit on edge, but the young and dirt-clad youth quickly found a comfortable spot to lay down and relax. He shut his eyes, the bow’s presence nearby reassuring in its implicit statement that Elythene hadn’t abandoned him to the life of a lonely woodland hermit. Comforted by the thought and entirely wiped out by the day’s efforts, Alexander drifted off to sleep. The unfamiliar chittering of insects and the squeaking of small creatures roused the groggy young man from his deep, dreamless sleep. He grumbled, blinked away the obtrusive  sleep-blur and sat up fluidly. The bow still rested there, leaning against the rock wall, but it was accompanied by the strange curved sword Elythene had used outside Kingston’s gates to slay the handsome guard. A shudder ran through Alexander’s heart as a memory only hours old returned. The feeling of discomfort fell away as a thought occurred to him. She came back and left without a weapon? “Very trusting.” he murmured to himself, perking an eyebrow. As the tiredness fell away though, Alexander became increasingly conscious of just how covered in grime he was. Set on doing something about that state of affairs, he got up and left the hidden grotto, ambling towards the fork in the stream. 

 

Under the shrouding cloak of night, this alien forest, illuminated by streaks of moonglow, struck Alexander as equally scenic, if not moreso, than it had been in the day. It also resounded, far more than it had during the hours of sun, with the myriad cries and chirps of nocturnal life; crickets, birds of many kinds, small amphibians at the side of the pond and other living creatures the human found himself unable to recognise the calls of. After absorbing the idyllic nature of his surroundings for a solitary few moments, Alexander bent down to a crouch and splashed lunar light-laced water onto his face. A quiet sigh of bliss escaped the dusty human’s lips as his face contorted into a contrarian frown. How did things turn out like this? He thought, allowing the day’s events to wash over him. “I woke up in a comfy bed with soft pillows and a gentle girl, and went to sleep squatting in a forest, a criminal and murderer.”

 

Anxiety inflamed by the fearful implications both for himself and the family he’d left behind, Alexander elected to take a walk. Such a distraction might clear his troubled mind if nothing else. Once he’d spent a few seconds glancing around for something arbitrary to indicate the best possible route, Alexander, suddenly struck by a mild curiosity, decided to embark on a saunter up the stream. Perhaps some picturesque oasis, or interesting waterfall awaited discovery at the brook’s uppermost course, where the watercourse touched the cliff. Latching onto this hope, Alexander traipsed along the bank. Eventually, and to his eminent curiosity, he came across a small, inaccessible hole in the cliff from which the water flowed. A few metres to its left, however, yawned another, larger opening.  The shape of a thin triangle, It sat there without light, half masked by yet more vines.

 

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Although definitely interested by the narrow passage, Alexander took note of, with a degree of amazement, his own absence of surprise. Elythene had said there were others aside from the grotto, after all. Pushing away a short spark of learned apprehension, the amateur explorator peeled back a portion of the creeper screen and breached the cave’s threshold. The instant Alexander allowed the vine gateway to fall back into its usual place, he found himself in almost complete darkness. The only remaining ember of light was visible far deeper inside in the curving stone corridor. Drawn to that light ‘like a moth to a flame’, as he recalled the obscure saying, Alexander began carefully edging further. Within the confines of such a tight space, so overflowing with nature as it was, a smell of wet grass, moss and loamy earth predominated, accompanied by a constant sound of running water that Alexander perceived to his right. The squinting, all-but blind human made a note of that. Wouldn’t want to go for an unprepared swim now, would we? 

 

Fortunately, the level of light rapidly became tolerable as he  neared the light at the tunnel's end and he was able to navigate with relative ease. A loose rock occasionally caused a slight stumble and Alexander repeatedly fought his way through a number of particularly tangled vine meshes. Eventually though the cave began to widen and grow in height, though the view ahead lay blocked by a large stone promentory, topped with vegetation. It could be climbed on, that much would be easily accomplished, or Alexander could simply go around the sides, where it seemed that the forked paths sloped gradually down. 

 

Seized by a familiar childish urge, he deftly scurried up the rock’s formation’s jagged edge. Handholds and footrests were abundant due to its disposition and so the ascent progressed without any difficulties. Upon reaching the summit, Alexander squatted in a patch of soggy vegetation, plants and grasses that adorned the giant stone as though it possessed a kind of green hair. From atop this new perch, a natural chamber could be seen, the massive expanse of which shocked Alexander. The symmetrical paths  branching to either side of his stony vista descended about a dozen or more metres before evening out, enclosing a vaguely oval-shaped pool of water, tinted green by the surrounding flora. Vines, creepers and other such things drooped down from the high ceiling, but most dominant of all the cave’s features, as Alexander saw it, was a gentle, terraced waterfall at the far end, flowing quietly into the tepid-looking pool. Another more standard waterfall off to Alexander’s right sent water careening into the pool from somewhere above in a rushing, vertical torrent. So this is where it comes from. He considered, before freezing in place. So fixated had Alexander’s attention been on the cave itself that the youthful lad hadn’t noticed the lithe, sharp-eared figure standing on a flat rock immediately adjacent to the terraced fall. Elythene? The thought was more of a question. In its wake, newfound curiosity sank its seductive claws into a receptive human mind. 

 

Recalling with a gentle curse how stubbornly he’d resisted wearing eyeglasses, Alexander balanced on the slippery stone top at a crouch, one knee braced on the wet grass below. Newly rooted, the intruder cast his imperfect but thankfully adequate eyes directly towards his unaware host. Relieved of her outer armour and clad in a low-necked, buttoned tunic of forest green and dark grey knee length trousers, Elythene stood there fiddling with a sequence of objects Alexander couldn’t make out in detail. He could tell that the Elf was being incredibly gentle with the items in question, ensuring everything was in order before placing each back on the ground. Elythene eventually finished this examination and then crouched, picking up what resembled a vaguely star shaped rock. She held the moderately sized stone in both hands and looked at it for a few moments. 

 

Then, as though an unseen force had punched the Elf in the gut, Elythene crumpled, almost curling around the stony star. Confused and just a little bit worried, Alexander shifted a little, seeking a better view. Suddenly, a sight from the past flashed before his mind. A familiar woman collapsed to a crimson carpeted floor, facing away from him. She sat there, curled into a ball with her head on her knees, body bucking slightly. Realisation struck Alexander as his guilty mind blinked to the present. Elythene too, so stoic and mystical in her Elven manner, sat there crying on the cold stone. Alexander struggled to watch her like that, but the curious interloper did so anyway, inquisitiveness overwhelming apprehension. The solemn, sirenic sound of Elythene’s tears, barely audible above the violent waterfall to his worse, was worse. It lasted for several minutes, after which she gingerly got to her feet and placed the stone with the other items, apparently having recovered.

 

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Prompted as Alexander surmised, by a shift in the clouds high above, the moonlight seeping into the cavern intensified, illuminating the space and casting a magnificent pall of revealed particles over the pool. No longer needing to squint so tightly, Alexander observed as Elythene bent down once more, reverently taking in her hands what appeared to be some sort of animal skull. Part of my supper, I suppose. The Elf walked slowly across the pondside stone platform and placed the skull on an elevated section, before getting to one knee and bowing her head in the trophy’s direction. She remained there for several minutes, quietly submitting herself to the object as though it were a peculiar variety of monarch. But the Elves recognised no king, Alexander knew that fact from even the most surface level histories. They hadn’t for a long, long time at least. 

 

A sudden movement from the Elf snapped her stealthy witness’ ever-wandering mind back to its proper time. Elythene yanked the deadly blade from her waist with a nimble hand movement, laying the cutting edge of the intricately crafted weapon across an unspoiled left palm. A subtle arm movement signalled the inevitable cut, and Alexander barely made out a distant line of crimson blood oozing onto the huntress’ hand. Same colour as ours. The surprised thought, hammered into the human scion during years of indoctrination, was a strange one. Alexander caught it as it passed, chastising himself for internalising such nonsense. Elythene turned her bleeding hand sideways and then balled it into a fist, before rising to stand. After taking two steps forward, she opened the injured hand and allowed her blood to drip onto the skull, coating it a viscous scarlet. Fascinating.

 

With the obscure ritual apparently complete, Elythene’s posture went lax. No longer did she appear as a reverent priestess or sorrowful mourner. She was just Elythene again; the proud, cagey but ultimately kind being Alexander had come to know. Presuming that relaxation marked the conclusion of the Elf’s unknown ceremonies, the human spy slowly began to pivot mid crouch. It might be awkward indeed if Elythene discovered that Alexander had been secretly watching. However, just as the young man turned his head away, something in his innate instincts coerced him to do a double take. He crouched in place, watching as Elythene, whose back was turned to him, removed a red belt-like sash and undid the buttons keeping her tunic in place. Deprived of its fastenings, the garment fell into Elythene’s waiting hand. She casually tossed it aside onto a dry area of stone, revealing the Elven woman’s unclothed back to Alexander. Almost reflexively, the lad shut his eyes and jerked his head away, as though afraid of what he would see. This isn’t right. The thought felt almost compulsory. It might not have been right, but did that matter?

 

A crude side of Alexander that the young man despised but could hardly resist reared its malignant head. Although he shrank away from the sight of the woman’s unclothed form, which he assumed would become progressively more unclothed as the minutes went on, he also felt ashamed to sense that the ugly part of him truly wanted to look. The ‘deviant’, as the soldiers had called him. As he considered whilst first laying eyes upon Elythene earlier that day, though, Elves were notoriously and exotically beautiful. And here Alexander was, in a prime position to watch this Elf, the one who had taken him in and shown him a very hidden place, as she stripped off all of her clothes and washed away the toils of the day. Better still, he could play the casual voyeur utterly without consequence. Masked by the noise made by the twin waterfalls, Elythene had apparently been unable to hear Alexander’s entry into the great chamber and harboured absolutely no suspicion of his presence. She trusts me, for some reason. 

 

Suddenly, drawn by the offhanded thought, a wave of piercing regret struck him like a tidal wave. How can I even think these things? Of course, Alexander had been the one to save Elythene’s life from her would-be murderers, but she had returned the favour. The Elf waited for him when it would’ve been safer to just leave alone. She had been patient in her deeds, if not her words, when Alexander’s fatigue had almost taken over. Finally, she had shown him this perfect place - her home, putting a great deal of trust in a random human she didn’t even know. And how would Alexander repay that debt? With betrayal. By spying on Elythene’s time of peaceful solitude like a lustful serpent. Making a decision all at once, Alexander twisted abruptly and began padding across the promontory. In a rush, the clumsy human kicked a loose stone off the sheer edge. He inhaled deeply, gritting his teeth. The rock made a series of loud clacks and then plunged into the pool with a splash. Elythene rapidly turned her head. Alexander panicked, and rocketed from the cave.  

 

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When a fully reclothed, equipment-clad Elythene emerged from the waterfall cavern some time later, iron-faced and with betrayal-stained sorrow evident on a flawless face, she discovered Alexander nearby, perched with fidgeting hands on a small, moss-covered rock. When he saw the Elf come out from the darkness, he immediately snapped to a standing position, a look of overwhelming, genuine guilt decorating his features. She had been observing him for a short time before being noticed, that much was clear. Alexander took a shaky breath and then approached Elythene, seeing genuine hurt in her. The Elf did not speak, just looking intently at the man as if the glare would bore through his skin. He looked aside, ashamed. In earlier years, Alexander might’ve professed his innocence or thrown out a barrage of excuses, but sensed that such hollow words would have little impact on Elythene. “I have no excuse, and I’m sorry.” He began to unconsciously fidget with his hands again, but then consciously wrenched them to his side with a look of irritation. The hardness on the Elf’s face faded a little as her guest spoke, but that only accentuated her visible sadness. “Tell me. I want to know the truth.” Elythene said firmly, maintaining her usual level of rhythmic grace. 

 

“I woke up and I- '' Alexander began quickly but stopped mid-sentence, slapping his forehead lightly in frustration. A moment of contemplative silence followed before he began again, this time more slowly. “When I woke up and saw you gone, I decided to stretch my legs. I walked up the stream and found the cavern; figured there’d be something to see at the end of it. I only realised you were there after climbing the rock. Saw you crying, and the blood. I didn’t realise I shouldn’t see these things until you..” He stopped, making a vague hand gesture in Elythene’s general direction. The Elf seemed to withdraw and shrink under the force of his implication, wrapping both arms around herself. 

 

Alexander’s frown deepened, and he felt an instinctive urge to say more. “I-I didn’t really see anything, promise, just your back. I looked away after that.” Elythene raised an unconvinced eyebrow, levelling a flat stare at Alexander. He did, however, notice that the sorrowful look had more or less disappeared. “I did think about it though.” he admitted after a moment of quiet, head drooping solemnly. “A voice in my head told me that if I just stayed where I was, I could watch you and see everything a man might want to see without any punishment.” Elythene cringed a little, but forced herself to listen with something approaching empathy. “The waterfall obscured whatever sound I made and I was hidden from sight in grass that was quite dense. But I didn’t want to, in the end. I tried to sneak away, to leave you alone. That’s when I kicked the stone.”

 

Rather than responding, Elythene instead drifted over to a nearby brush. A squirrel abruptly darted from its concealment and dashed up the Elf’s right arm, before finding a seat on her protected shoulder. “Why did you help me?” she asked curiously, scratching the little critter’s neck in a manner it audibly seemed to appreciate. Alexander let out a heavy sigh. “You were right before, at least partly. When I saw you, the first thing I truly saw was your face. It was and is nice to look at.” He stopped for a moment, believing that he would discern some indication of discomfort or disapproval. Neither showed. Instead, Elythene simply nodded, an expectant look on her face. 

 

Alexander cleared his throat, feeling slightly awkward. “And I think maybe that’s part of why I threw that chunk of mud. But it’s not the only reason!” The protest emerged from his mouth with more passion than he had intended. “What the soldiers do in the west is wrong. Your kind are different from ours, and strange to me, but you’re not the devious evil they claim you are.” The Elf let loose a sardonic chuckle despite the conversation’s grim course, bursting the bubble of tension in the air. Apparently mollified by the genuineness of Alexander's explanations, Elythene beckoned him to sit, tapping the grass with the palm of her hand. He did so, coming to rest opposite her. Elythene’s squirrel companion took the opportunity to scamper down and sit by the Elf’s feet. “Now listen.” she ordered, lips curled into a smile.

 

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“You seem a goodhearted boy and I appreciate the honesty that you have shown me.”  The gentle words sparked something strange in Alexander, causing him to frown. A warm sense that he had indeed done a good thing by telling the whole truth pulsed through him, but it was more than just that. When Alexander met people outside the bounds of his own troubled family, he instinctively assigned them a category championed by one of his kindred. Up until this point, he’d thought of Elythene as a proxy for his older half sister, or step sister, or whatever she truly was. Alexander always considered the girl just his sister, not caring to ask too many probing, uncomfortable questions he might not like the answers to. Still, he enjoyed her caring, guardian-like company greatly. Elythene reminded him of that company, but the impression had changed. Elythene now reminded Alexander of his mother, but not the cruel thing she became, but the loving woman he remembered from years before, when she’d cradled him to her chest.

 

How old is Elythene. Alexander thought, making no effort to prevent the curiosity showing in his eyes. “I can imagine that some of the things you saw me doing in there might have seemed unnerving, even nefarious.” Elythene looked over her shoulder to the cave, nodding in its direction. The squirrel followed her gaze also, making Alexander chuckle silently. “They weren’t… First, my star rock and my tears. The one I loved gave me that stone a long time ago, before he died. It is my way of grieving what is lost and remembering what was. As for the skull, that is a rite of my faith in the hunter god.” Alexander visibly perked up at the curious explanation, but remained wordless. “After that, I washed myself in the waters, nothing more.” 

 

The human felt an odd sense of familiarity mixed with disappointment. So normal. What Alexander expected, he was not exactly sure, but allowed a burst of curiosity to creep out. “We are always told that your people walk around half naked, like our harlots-” he stopped, quickly adding a gesture of apology. “I do not mean to be ignorant.” Rather than being offended though, Elythene just gave a defiant bark of laughter. “No, no. That part is true, many of my idiot kin go around with flesh bared. It is rarely a sign of deviancy though, it is just how they are.” The Elf explained, an echo of resentment in her voice. “But not you.” Alexander said, questioningly. “No, not me. The only person I would have see my body is gone, and there will not be another.she said with perfect, inexorable certainty. 

 

“I tell you these things because you did save me, and I want you to feel at home in my home, while you are here.” the Elf concluded, standing from the ground after handing her companion a nut. The squirrel scampered away with its reward in tow.  Elythene in turn began strolling in the direction of the living grotto and Alexander followed on behind. “I only thought about this just a moment ago.. And I know it is impolite to ask a woman her age in my culture.. But how old are you?” he asked, and swore he observed the indications of a smirk on Elythene’s face as she walked on in front. “We of humanity are short lived and you can usually tell roughly what age we are, but you are strange. You are hard to distinguish. One who looks particularly youthful might be ancient.. It is quite unsettling, to be honest.” There were a few seconds of silence broken only by light footfalls. “I can tell you that I am older than you might think, but nothing more. Some things have to remain a mystery, don’t they?” Unsatisfied, Alexander followed Elythene into the grotto, where both, exhausted from the trials of the day, quickly fell into slumber. 

 

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Alexander sat upright in a burnished leather armchair, the furniture’s deep crimson shade contrasting deeply with the subdued browns and teals of the room. He stared into a roaring fireplace, inside which chunks of split-wood kindling splintered at the inferno’s pervasive touch. A sequence of strangely melodic cracks resounded from the ornately framed piece as its timber fuel broke apart. Pungent smoke, that which blew free of the chimney above, made Alexander scrunch his nose in disgust. In the distance, perhaps somewhere on the street outside the familiar home, a series of intense voices could be heard getting closer and closer again. What time is it? Perhaps the taverns just closed? No, that wasn’t it. Daylight still reigned beyond the house’s subtly stained-glass windows. Alexander yearned to rise, yearned with a mysterious drive to observe what was taking place outside. The trio of sensations echoed louder than the rest. The crackling of the fire, the reek of the smoke and the sound of faraway shouting. What did they all have in common? And then, in a bout of deathly realisation, Alexander woke with a start.

 

He sat bolt upright in open mouthed alarm, heart thumping rapidly. Looking from left to right, the dreamer found himself in the forest grotto, Elythene still slumbering close by. To Alexander’s consternation, however, the crackling and the stench and the shouting had not disappeared with the dream that had, supposedly, spawned them. A sinking feeling indicative of raw panic wormed its way into his gut. Suddenly energised, Alexander sprang to his feet and scampered over to the vine gateway. Peeling back some of the vegetation and poking his head around the corner, he could just barely make out a dozen armed figures halfway around the crater’s edge. The majority of their number still remained at the top of the cliff, but one or two, he could see, were already at the base. One man slid with considerable difficulty down an object that Alexander supposed must’ve been a rope, making him gasp. He was about to turn around and rouse Elythene, but upon doing so discovered her already up, wrapping and clasping her equipment for combat. The look of severity and disdain on the Elf’s face made Alexander feel worse than the interlopers’ appearance.

 

Bearing that cold fury on her face, Elythene grabbed her ornate bow and moved out of the grotto unseen, Alexander following at a crouch. He watched her withdraw an arrow, nock it and test the string a few times with mock pulls, an expression of mild frustration on the woman’s face. Then with one eye closed, Elythene aimed high to compensate for the drop, as Alexander had been taught was a necessity with archery, and loosed her bodkin-point arrow toward the human scaling operation. There’s no way she could hit that from here. We must be more than a hundred metres away.. His thought, though laced with doubt, rang true and the arrow missed its mark, but only barely. He expected some kind of frustrated outburst from Elythene, but none came. Likely startled by the projectile whirring past his head, one of the men holding the rope seemed to stumble and let go. The new burden of weight caused the remainder of those at the cliff’s summit to drop the rope as well, sending it and the unfortunate figure relying upon it careening down the sheer wall and onto the earth below. A fresh bout of shouting reverberated throughout the enclosed caldera. Elythene crouched as the soldiers looked about with panicked head movements, clearly unaware from which angle exactly the attack came. As the Elf descended, she shoved Alexander to the floor with a single hand movement. 

 

“Ser Anacarè, you may reveal yourself now. A fine job you have done!” A voice, authoritative and somehow familiar, cried out in a tone that sounded friendly, if a little desperate. The knight from the city. Alexander balked at the mention of his surname, making a dissatisfied huff. They know who I am. ****. Elythene snapped her head around, assaulting the young man with a burning look of shocked outrage that made Alexander’s stomach churn. Corned like a wolf, the Elf stalked forward through the brush, closing half the distance between her and the struggling humans unseen and in little time. The two men who had originally been at the bottom now knelt at the side of their injured, fallen comrade. At the top, a figure in hunting attire who appeared to be their leader leaned over the edge. Elythene, now apparently properly in tune with her weapon, nocked another arrow, drew and loosed after a moment taken to aim. As she was now significantly closer, the arrow struck with devastating precision, skewering the neck of one of the men tending to his wounded brother in arms. The remaining hunter in the crater cried out and ducked in fear as his companion died, gurgling on his own blood. Alexander inhaled loudly, but remained where he was, stunned by the sudden violence. 

 

The men on top armed themselves with crossbows, pulling cranks and loading bolts. She’ll be showered with them. Alexander thought, arcing left around the crater with worry on his face and mind. He had seen what such rains of metal could do. Then, in a move he thought to be a mark of instinctive martial genius, Elythene replaced her bow and, with brilliant swiftness, bounded towards the remaining injured man and his healthy, cowering comrade. She withdrew the curved shortblade at her waist. The would-be crossbowmen atop the cliff shouted warnings to their man down below, and he consequently took out a weapon of his own - a moderately sized handaxe. Elythene attacked just as the axe came out. 

 

She closed, blade of mysterious Elven making swishing from left to right in an elegant arc toward the soldier’s throat. He managed to raise the axe and block the killing strike with the handle just in time. His comrades appeared hesitant, unwilling to shoot their crossbows out of fear that they would hit their own. Elythene moved before the soldier could strike first, pivoting one way, feinting so the soldier shifted his weight in that direction. Then, she dove the other way, wrapping the weapon around the back of the human’s leg and brutally hamstringing him with a spray of blood, before pirouetting beyond harm’s reach. The axeman fell to the floor, clutching a potentially mortal wound. She pointed her bloodied blade to the leader above and then to the two beneath, before dashing back in Alexander’s direction. One or two stray bolts followed, but the remaining ten or so men were too busy trying to get down the cliff in aid of their brothers to bother with the Elf.

 

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Elythene reached the small patch of tall grass inside which Alexander had been cowering. Rather than stopping to call him on, she instead darted straight past without sparing him even the most cursory of glances. His heart skipped a beat and he followed on behind at an inferior pace. An overwhelming urge struck to call out, pleading for a reduction in pace, but the exhausted man concluded that it would sound ridiculous given their current predicament. So, Alexander tried his best to keep up, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see whether or not the warriors were still on their trail. It proved an unwelcome decision. While several tended to the wounded and the dead, about half ran at considerable speed in his direction with weapons in hand. 

 

He put more effort and urgency into his pace, trying to close the distance between him and his agitated Elven friend. Her running came to a stop at the point that Alexander recognised as the point at which they’d descended into the crater hours earlier. She began to climb, and he followed. Elythene still displayed the usual dexterity and grace he recognised. However, possibly due to a slight wound sustained in the brief fight that he hadn’t seen her take, the Elf seemed just a bit slower than usual. He climbed right behind her now. Then Alexander’s foot slipped, going through a rootless piece of loose earth and sending him on a freefall. Instinctively he grabbed at the nearest thing he could find. In this case, that anchor was Elythene’s shin.

 

Quite out of character, Elythene loosed a vulnerable yelp of panic. She managed, nevertheless, to retain her own balance. Snapping her gnarled, distrustful gaze to look down on Alexander and his desperate expression, the Elf brought her other boot-clad foot up and reflexively stamped on his grasping hand. A jolt of pain struck him, and he instinctively let go. He fell with a pitiful cry, tumbling and then plummeting down the sharp, thorn-wreathed ridge until he thudded against the crater floor at an awkward angle. Alexander landed hard on his arm. Something cracked and the boy gritted his teeth, writhing in pain. His head span and his eyes hardly worked through the pain, but a vision of Elythene summiting the crater lip was all too clear. 

 

She looked back just once with a saddened, betrayed expression, and then disappeared from view. Alexander merely lay there clutching his shattered arm, covered in ripped clothing, red stings, bleeding cuts and sore grazes. He didn’t move. The shouting grew louder, closer. Rather than Elythene’s beautiful, distant eyes looking down on him, he instead saw multiple pairs of furious eyes, brows tilted inwards. A foot cannoned into his side from behind, forcing an audible breath from his mouth. Its deliverer threw a bitter curse down at him. Alexander expected more punishment, but none came. “Stop. Enough.” the commanding voice from before said. “Throw him over your shoulder and let us leave.” A soldier followed the order. The pain of it proved too much, and everything went dark... “The Elfy’s gone. We won’t catch her.

 


 

A familiar brand of fury with which Elythene was well acquainted, poisonous and terrible, simmering low, burned its last inside her soul. He tried to pull me down. The Elf backed up against the tree’s bulky trunk, using it as cover as her thoughts reflexively attempted to justify what she had just done. I had little other choice. The treacherous lie almost dug its claws in, but failed. Elythene rounded the tree with silent, calculated steps and peered out over the crater a short distance away. She watched with narrowed hazel eyes, almost invisible behind a small patch of brush, as a small group of armed men on the other side departed in the other direction, towards the forest edge. A hawkish, keen gaze observed the healthy valah carrying several injured figures over their shoulders, including a certain limp form possessing messy hair coloured like sand. Elythene sighed softly, those eyes slowly closing. Instinctively, her strong hand reached over her shoulder to where it knew her bow would be. It was there. Then the fingers on that hand snaked down, confirming the presence of her falchion, made as it was of the ancient wood-metal of her sundered people. After one more preparatory breath to dismiss the pain of a minor wound to the thigh, Elythene set off in pursuit, light steps barely disturbing the grasses beneath.

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