Corsana: Myths and Legends

By Charles Wellington II

With the port city of Asic out of danger, CK, Rory, Drendel, Chloe, and Rannstein, each go their separate ways. But heroic deeds never go unnoticed, as villains look to strike back. And strike they do. The Vampire Lord, Soren, has decided to make an example of all adventuring groups, and with The Phalanx Syndicate firmly in his sights, he'll sta

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Wellington II
• Release date: Jun 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9780997255645

Book preview

Preface

We return to the realm of Corsana. A world filled with energies to alter reality, space, and time. Where cities are filled with denizens looking to raise their children, build their lives, call a place home, and lands are filled with creatures, beasts, and monsters the likes your people would only ever consider a fanciful tale for books. If only that were true.

For the truth of the matter is, your thoughts, my thoughts, our thoughts, are powerful. They’re potent, brimming with a cosmic energy we have yet to understand. When we imagine something, creating a space for it in our hearts and begin pouring our blood, sweat, tears, and desires into it, though we may not see it, somewhere out there, in another universe, there is a spark, and something comes to life.

This is where Corsana lives.

It exists all around you, just out of phase from view. It’s that movement at the edge of your peripheral vision. The flicker of something moving by. It’s that feeling you get when you are home and you swear the house is empty, but the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you’re not alone.

Maybe, if you’re quiet enough, you might hear the call. A whispering of your name that may lead you to a doorway from which you will never return.

So, remember everything. Commit it to memory. For it may save your life one day.

And with that… welcome back to Corsana!

― C. Wellington II

Prologue

In an era before time, when the lands were still unnamed, when the continents had separated and were spreading out through the waters, during an age when elves and dwarves battled for domination over what was, and long before the Dökkálfar were but a glint in the eye of their twisted creator, clusters of energy burst forth, showering the earth in its radiance.

From the core, through every particle of the mantel to the endless cosmic quantities of atoms of what was to be, the magical energies infused with everything within reality, changing the destinies of all... Or so the myth goes.

That magical energy, as most energies upon creation, was of no alignment. Energy just Is. Tainted only upon impact, absorption, or use by that which accepts its gift. Its burden. From the mountaintops of Entvagrin, this raw energy spewed forth. The land, naturally corrupted from the birth of its own soil, soaked up the resources and commenced with its distribution.

From the snow caps, an unnatural mist began to rise. Billowing, rolling down like an avalanche of snow, slowed to a walking pace. As the mists reached the foot of the mountains and the tips of the forest with its vegetation full of animals and rivers, the waters soured, and the bark of the trees grew dark and strong. The leaves, once bright green and lush, became dark, thick, and oily. The branches expanded, twisting together, fighting each other for space and domination, cutting off the natural, lifegiving light of the sun. As the mist reached out across the land, the soil turned to muck and that muck became marsh.

Rabbits, squirrels, wolves, bears, and deer, all loving creatures of Diyanara’s creation, became feral and aggressive, their eyes glowing red, furs matted and unkempt. Their mouths were white with foam and hearts full of rage. Creatures, long since dead, rose up to reclaim that which was lost to them. From within the darkness, the first of its kind was born.

Legends tell of a brilliant elf known as Leichen, once renowned for his innovations in alchemy and his level of skill as one of Alteese’s most revered archmages. Like most mortal beings, he attempted to find that which would extend his life, ending his mortal existence, while attempting to create hybrid creatures— combinations of humanoids and animals. It was because of his unethical and unsanctioned experiments that he was shunned and ridiculed by his colleagues and the wizarding community.

Having reached an age of senescence, old and feeble with no kin, children, or friends, rebuked and alone, the years of solitude leaving him utterly void of love and consumed by his own hatred, he walked off into a nearby forest to die.

Swiftly, death came to greet him. As its sweet embrace took hold of what was left of his rotting carcass, the light in his eyes flickered out of existence. It was in that exact moment as the last sound of raspy air left his open mouth that the earth spewed forth its power.

For a moment, all was still. Then a blink. The corpse that lay on the forest floor, alone, and without any reason for going on, blinked its eyes with the imitation of life once again. The body constricted as if from agonizing pain, writhing on the ground, in and out of a fetal position. The flesh immediately sunk in, growing taut and drying like a husk in just a matter of seconds. Then all became still once more.

The creature’s hand moved, gripping and clawing at the soft soil. It stood, the new entity that was once a flesh and blood humanoid known as Leichen found its footing. He was aware and sentient with his will and intellect still intact. He stood there, stretching what remained of his dried muscles, and then looked down at his hands. The skin was stretched across the bones with nails long and tinted a decayed shade of yellow. With nothing but a mere thought and some small exertion of will, a ball of flames flashed into being within the palm of his hand. But unlike normal flames, this fireball burned with a dark, emerald green glow. For the first time in over a century, the elf’s lips, or what was left of them, spread in a thin smile as he engulfed the area around him with flames.

Chapter One

The Paths Before Us

May 21 st, 12014: The Falindria Mountains

Christopher stood along a path leading through the Falindria Mountains. The sun radiated its light down along the west face. His brown cloak flapped in the wind, revealing his sheathed, magically enchanted, electric sword. Feeling the warmth of the sun, he stopped, closed his eyes, and smiled. It was one of those childhood enjoyments that never left him— the innocent pleasure of being able to see the glow of the sun through closed eyelids. The heat eased his heart, bringing him happiness; it allowed his mind to drift. And drift it did, like a magnet for all he’d previously held dear, floating straight to her. To thoughts of Rory.

His stomach dropped and his heart vibrated, ready to break. The sound of his horse snorting, waiting to continue following their guide up the mountain, was the saving grace that brought him back to reality. CK sighed as he looked out again across the land. The view was undeniably beautiful.

The horizon spanned away to the edge of the world. Below, reflecting the sun’s rays like flecks of gold waiting to be picked up, was Lake Falindor. Beside it, small as a pebble from this distance, the lake’s namesake, the town of Falindor. A small fishing village, no bigger than the town of Geonish, but much smaller than Asic.

The scattering sound of small stones, like the clatter of raining pebbles upon a tin roof, dancing down the mountain towards him drew his attention up. Donella continued to lead her horse up the trail. The wind was having fun with her, attempting to grab ahold of her cloak. As some of her hair slipped out of its band, she looked back, checking on him.

It had been nineteen days since they’d left Asic together. Christopher Knight, a psionic— born with the unique ability to will things to happen with the power of his mind, and the leader of his team, The Phalanx Syndicate, had been approached by her with an invitation from the Nostro Guild to train among other psionics.

He’d known about the guild for some time, having been warned of their suspicious and scheming nature by his father, Erik Miles, who had also trained with them in the past. Seeing how his previous year had ended, he figured what the hell.

Over the last year, he’d experienced a great many things. He’d almost been crunched by a huge crab, been shot at many times by crossbow bolts, escorted a friend while being chased by bandits, faced a werewolf, a vampire spawn, a team of mercenaries who knew their every move back to front after being betrayed by their trainer, and almost had his team killed by the sorcerer Taydok.

That wasn’t even mentioning the moment where, after surviving their battle against the evil hobgoblin, his heart was ripped out and crushed by Rory— his friend, teammate, and girlfriend, who then left him and their home to be with another guy. After which, their team split up, each going their separate ways.

There were a hundred things he could have chosen to do while they ventured along their own paths. Find another place in politics, work on the docks, drown himself in liquor while giving into sadness. He was sure that Charlie would give him a job at the Raging Centaur. But he knew that staying in Asic would just be depressing.

Around every corner was another memory to rip his heart open. So, he decided to leave. At least here he was being given a moment to get away. To breathe. Maybe even see what it was like to be around people with abilities like his own. To finally be accepted and trusted without even having to try. That thought alone turned up the corner of his lips.

As they reached the summit, Christopher found himself atop an enormously flat, empty plateau. The middle of the ground was free of snow, which clung to the edges around the perimeter as if it had purposely been swept to the side. It was then, looking out upon the area, that Donella let out a happy sigh of relief.

We are here, she said. Gazing across the land with a smile, she let go of her horse’s reigns.

CK looked around but all he saw was dirt and some snow. I see nothing, he said with a shrug.

The master looked at him and smiled. Open yourself and you will see.

Christopher closed his eyes and lowered the walls of his mind, allowing the psionic energy of the world to pour in, and as he did, so was his vision cleansed. At first, it was an outline. The small trickling of a shape took place in his mind, slowly filling with colors and textures until the form became solid. When it did, he opened his eyes to a walled complex filling the empty plateau.

Donella’s smile broadened. Welcome to Nostro.

The complex was situated atop the ledge surrounded by a stone wall. At the double door arched entrance stood two men with spears almost nine feet long, wearing brown cloaks just like her. The man on the right had quite the look to him— his head was shaved and covered in tribal tattoos with unfamiliar symbols.

Donella took a few steps forward before realizing CK hadn’t moved. Don’t worry. They’ll take care of the animals.

Christopher rolled his lips and fell in step behind her. As they approached the entrance, the men silently opened the doors, bowing their heads. It was then— as the feeling of excitement and wonder left him in awe— that he felt his cheeks ball up from smiling. He realized how much he must look like a kid on holiday, his senses completely overwhelmed, just as Drendel’s were when they first started training at the guild; his eyes zipping all over the place as they had on the first day they met.

The complex was no less than double the size of the Hammer’s Edge fighting guild. All the buildings were two stories tall with gable rooftops covered in ceramic tile shingles. As they passed through the gateway, splitting the arcade to other sections of the guild, they continued forward into an open, peristyle hall. Unlike other halls CK had seen that had been filled with gardens or fountains, the floors here were free of clutter and decoration all the way down to the dirt and supported an area filled with battle. The hairs on his arms stood up as they approached.

Five battles raged throughout the area. In front of them, a woman laughed as she stomped her foot. Dust and dirt clouded up from the ground as visible waves rippled through the earth, cracking the soil. Her female opponent stood resolute as the wave approached. Christopher’s jaw dropped as the opponent’s skin changed from flesh to metal.

To their right, a man stood with his right arm extended and sheathed in flames, unleashing a stream of fire. He watched the jet of flames stream forward like a geyser of water. CK was ready for the target to jump back, but instead, the man slammed his open palms together, creating a wedge of energy, deflecting the flames to either side.

His head on a swivel, trying to take it all in, Christopher hadn’t realized he’d stepped forward. His body and instincts— honed from missions with his own group— saw the action and almost unconsciously threw himself in. In doing so, he had accidentally stepped out onto the edge of the arena. As he did, the reality of the moment hit when he was forced to jump back, almost trampled.

Two men sprinted by, engaged in a sword to sword battle. Enhanced with their psionic energy, their movements were a blur of strikes and parries as they raced around the perimeter, practically running up and down the walls.

On the left side of the hall, a young boy, approximately fourteen-years-old and wielding a short sword, held his ground as three full-grown adults viciously attacked him. The child— as if the battle was staged— deftly defended against their strikes. His eyes closed to slits as he allowed the psionic energy to fill his body.

The last pair of psionicists were training at the opposite end where a man kept teleporting, blinking in and out of existence, as his opponent cut loose with lightning from her hands. As a pattern to the phasing began to emerge, the woman, anticipating the teleporter’s next jump, spread her hands apart, hitting two different areas, catching the man in her volley. He fell to the ground sprawling and jerking from the shock of electricity, unable to teleport away.

Donella raised her eyebrow as CK grimaced in pain. He needs more training, she said, turning to the left, heading down a long hall.

So, this is where you all train?

This is our home. Her arm swept to encompass the whole complex. A place where we can live, train, and exist with our own kind without fear of being alienated or ostracized because we are unique.

Well, I haven’t been ostracized by anyone yet. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he’d spoken without thinking. Even his own group had experienced momentary issues when his abilities were revealed.

Donella smirked. So, you let everyone know that you’re a psionic?

No.

My point exactly.

They turned to the right, into a sanctuary. An older halfling stood in the middle of the room, gazing up at a wall covered in columns of names, each with a colored circle before it. The wall shimmered as if water were flowing down it and the names changed to be replaced by others. He turned, smiled, and took a couple of steps forward.

Donella. You have returned. He was as tall as Drendel with a bald head and graying hair around the edges.

She smiled with a small bow of her head. I have, and with a potential student. This is Christopher Knight.

Ah, Christopher. I am Reece. A pleasure, he said in a genuine fashion as they shook hands. You are the member of the Phalanx Syndicate Donella has been telling us about.

CK nodded. I am.

Wonderful. And what do you think of our place so far?

Christopher looked around as the names shifted again. It’s great!

I think so, Reece said, looking around with reverence. Now then, before anyone begins their training, we test them so we know what we’re dealing with. He watched as there was stiffening to CK’s stance as if he was getting ready for an attack. There will be no psionic attacks upon you. He turned with a small waving of his arm. All you need to do is step in-between the two pillars, hold the rings, and open yourself fully to the spectrum so we may see your potential.

Pillars? he replied, looking around. His question was immediately answered as two stone columns rose from the floor. Okay. Not a problem.

Christopher approached the columns and stood between them, grasping the metal rings. At first, nothing happened, but Reece and Donella waited patiently.

It was one of those rare, private moments for him that almost no one had ever seen. Usually, he had to train alone as he didn’t know any psionicists except for his dad and, prior to coming here, there hadn’t been a place or way for him to learn about new abilities. It was all just trial and error, based on what he wanted to accomplish.

One of the rare moments was after he’d experienced telepathy for the first time. Erik had taken the time to sit with him and share a few techniques on cleansing the mind, focusing one’s thoughts, and, most importantly, learning how to erect mental walls; not only for protection for one’s self and others but to keep out every other stray thought in the world. Because of this, he almost always kept his mental walls up, fully on the defensive. It felt like ages since he’d allowed them to fully collapse. As they did, the energy began to flow into him.

He felt his cheeks rise with sheer joy. It was like being bathed in fresh spring water after years in the desert. He saw images of his friends flipping through his mind. Drendel’s smile, training with Rannstein, Chloe’s look of stubborn pride, and then he saw Rory. As the details of her face sharpened, it was a mixture of emotions he couldn’t describe. Before he could analyze them, his vision changed to that of an out of body experience. It was only for the briefest of moments, but in that second, he saw himself standing there holding the rings.

While that was the case for him, what Reece and Donella saw was much different. CK’s energy flowed like water through his hands, dribbling through the rings and into the pillars that began to brighten. The pillars, like stone barrels, filled quickly. The rings themselves now shined so brightly that the halfling had to put up his hand to continue watching.

When the pillars and rings could take no more, Christopher’s body began to radiate. Without warning, an energy pulse burst from him. The force of the wave pushed on the masters like the crashing of a wave along the shore, forcing them to step back. The young man was so bright that Donella was now having to cover her eyes. All they could make out of him was a dark silhouette surrounded by brilliant white light with the faintest of a yellow tint. They watched as his name appeared on the wall behind him. It remained for only a heartbeat, just long enough to have the water ripple and the names change again.

That is fine, Donella said telepathically. CK erected his mental walls, closing himself down, and all was normal again as he stepped away from the pillars. As he released the rings and stepped forward, he expected them to be impressed. To be standing there with barely contained excitement. Maybe even have big grins of their own.

He got… nothing. Their faces were completely blank as if he was just another ordinary nobody.

So, he asked. How’d I do?

Reece finally allowed a small smile. Very good. You have learned a lot in your travels and have a great deal of control already. He waved his arm, palm open towards Donella who had taken a few steps towards the door already. She will show you to your quarters. And if you have any questions, please, feel free to ask.

He took a step towards Donella and then turned back to Reece. I do have one. The halfling’s chin raised. What are the colored dots next to the names?

Reece smiled. When it comes to a psionic, there are three main areas that they can affect. Each color represents how many areas they can access. Yellow means one, blue is two, and three are green. Those are the three general colors for those with normal psionic potential. But there are some, however rare, who poses a wellspring of untapped potential. For them, they would be akin to a being of pure energy living inside a fleshy shell who naturally has access all three domains of the psionic spectrum. They are colored orange.

And red?

Reece followed Christopher’s gaze up to an unreadable name on the list, way up high with a red dot that was there briefly only to vanish as the board rippled again. It was the only red dot to have appeared through all the ripples.

Red is for those who are pure psionics. Beings who are unreadable. An anomaly unto the world.

CK nodded and followed Donella out, the unasked question still ringing in his head… What color am I?

As she led him to his quarters, a group of students in three, single file lines emerged from a set of stairs rising from beneath the complex. He was amazed to see such an eclectic group of students living together in one guild. He expected to see humans, dwarves, halflings, and elves. But there were also Drakkar— humanoids with dragon lineage who looked more like bipedal dragons; people of the Crissari race— blue-skinned humans from the Hiskaeni continent, centralized around the south pole; even one Merrowan— a humanoid race that most considered disfigured as they had a genetic anomaly that created chunks of bone that grew out of their skin like jagged stalagmites.

Christopher grinned seeing the group. While he didn’t know any of them personally, it was nice to not feel alone in the world. Although he had readied himself mentally for seeing anything strange or out of the ordinary, what he saw next made him do a double take. The instructor of the group, who stopped and bowed her head to Donella, was familiar to him.

Master, she said with respect.

CK felt dumbstruck for a moment. He actually knew the girl talking to Donella. One night, not too long ago, he’d been in a tavern when he was approached by a redheaded girl. He’d met her about a week after quitting as Co-Interim Mayor when the other attendants had joined to help the situation. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from staring.

Her emerald green eyes stood in deep contrast to her vibrant red hair. Her toned, athletic build was fully visible now as she was no longer wearing adventuring garments. He tried to rationalize the possibility of it all, but his mind was having none of it. Of all the people, in all the world, to walk into that particular tavern that night…

Vrisa, Donella acknowledged as she looked over the group. How goes their training?

It goes well. We trained hard this morning, so I took them down to the pools of serenity for some relaxation and mental renewal.

The master smiled mischievously. The pools’ affinity for enhancing dormant psionic pathways was well known to Christopher as it was one of the topics they had spoken about on their travel to the guild.

Well done, Donella complimented as she continued down the hall.

CK followed the master and received a smile from Vrisa as he passed. The cocky playfulness in her grin seemed to confirm that she remembered him, too.

That night after dinner, his belly full and his shoulders relaxing, Christopher wandered around the guild. Most of their members met in the warmly lit common rooms playing board games, reading, or enjoying a drink as they sang songs while relishing in each other’s company. As he neared a spot along the wall— Donella had told him it held a great view of the valley floor— he noticed that Vrisa had beat him to it.

Hey, she said as he approached. Come to see the view?

Donella said it’d be worth my time. He immediately smiled, taking a quick glance to see if someone was playing a joke on him— her words sounded more like a pickup line that he might use rather than a casual comment.

Vrisa looked over and smile in kind. So, what do you think?

He glanced back down at the guild. It’s a nice place…

But? she asked as he let his comment hang in the air.

I just don’t know if it’s for me. She nodded her head. Is this how you came to find me in the tavern that night?

No. I don’t always train here. It’s not like a clergy where you have to get permission to come and go. Vrisa looked back out over the land. I was with an adventuring group at the time. The tavern was just a chance meeting.

What happened to your group?

They accepted a mission down into the Dungeon of Heroes. He could feel his breathing stop as she named the dungeon. Everyone knew the stories of that place. They never came back.

Why didn’t you go?

Vrisa let out a long, thoughtful sigh. The type that let you know it was a question she’d asked herself a thousand times as she considered how things might have turned out had she been with them. Because I knew we weren’t ready. I’ve been a student here for a while. I may not be the most talented but what I lack in ability I’ve always made up for in preparation. She turned towards him, gauging his reaction. Everyone knows the dungeon adjusts to those who enter. But I’ve also heard tale that it can’t adjust below a certain point.

CK shook his head, remembering the tales he’d heard. Did they know about all this? He motioned towards the guild. About you?

That I was a psionic? No. Does your group know?

Yeah, he said with a happy tone.

Vrisa’s lips pursed and she gained a look of sorrow as she turned and looked back out towards the horizon. You must really trust them.

Christopher followed her gaze as he remembered his friends, thoughts of them bringing a warmth to his heart. With my life.

Well, she began, her voice lighter now, attempting to push aside the dark memories of her group. I do hope you decide to join us.

And what if I decide not to?

Her lips parted, about to reply, when their conversation was interrupted. I believe that would be better posed to me.

Vrisa nearly jumped out of her skin and over the railing. They turned to face Donella, the apprentice bowing shakily from the fright.

Of course, Master, Vrisa said with a bow. CK felt her hand graze his as she passed by, leaving them to a private conversation.

Donella waited patiently until they were alone. Naturally, we ask every person with psionic potential to join us or at least agree to an alliance.

An alliance?

Yes. We allow them to go about their lives or come here and train as they will without having to pledge any affiliation or loyalty to us while agreeing to follow our guidelines.

And if they don’t?

The master walked up to stand where Vrisa had stood previously. That really depends.

On what?

She turned to face him. On how much of a potential threat they are to the world. Christopher found himself speechless. And obviously, the psionic’s personality factors into the equation. As much as I hate to say it, the world is right to fear some psionics. Just as they are right to fear some spellcasters. That is why we take it upon ourselves to govern our own.

And what gives you the right?

Those with the ability have a responsibility. CK’s visage soured at the expression. Donella’s features seemed to soften with understanding. I understand your reaction. Rest assured that decisions like these are not made lightly. They are not made by one individual but by a council.

Christopher chewed on that thought for a moment. And you agree with every decision?

No. Her tone was matter of fact, as if she had dealt with this thought before. But we do what we must for the good of the many. With that, she walked away, heading back into the guild.

And what’s their judgment on me?

Donella’s steps never faltered as she continued down the stairs. That remains to be seen.

May 21

st

: Elven village of Fiuanna – within the Eroa Forest

Rory stood in Firalten’s office, looking out the window at the yard below. The trees were flush with leaves as spring flowed into summer. Flowers blossomed all around and there was a row of carriages alongside the road to the house. The drivers stood off to the left in a circle, talking while they waited as the sounds of music floated up from the first floor.

She reached up reflexively, touching her hair— which was up and pulled back, held by an elegant hair comb. Her mother had helped her pick out the dress. The lemon and cream-colored satin gown caressed her body, enticing the eye with a low-plunging back. For someone in love, this would have been a perfect night, but not for her.

Her thoughts swept back. Almost a year ago to the day, she’d been at the mayor’s party with Chloe, meeting CK for the first time. The recognition of time astounded her. What a difference a year makes. She’d been so naive of what the world held. Completely absorbed by her books. Then the planet seemed to open. Not like a light mist but like a torrential downpour.

She’d finally got to be with her family, something she’d always dreamed of. Then something she never even fathomed fell into her lap— she fell in love. Soon after, she traveled for the first time to an elven village, learned of her secret betrothal, and was then forced to choose between marrying a man she did not know and, in making that decision, having to the break the heart of the man she loved with all her soul or watch her family fall from grace. All of this while facing monsters the world seemed intent on spewing forth. Her shoulders ached from the pressure as her thoughts flew away.

Rory recounted spending her last night in Asic with Christopher. She’d gotten up early the next morning as he laid there so peacefully, as to feign death. She moved a strand of hair laying across his face causing him to stir. Instantly, her heart broke. She wanted to scream out in anger and despair. She wanted him to save her. But instead, she dressed quietly and left.

Teleporting back to Fiuanna, she was met by her parents. They made their way to the Sailver mansion and got her settled in. During that first week, her sister, Brenna, and brother, Nasum, hardly ever left her side. The few moments she was alone, she found the wellspring within her swelling up with anger and hatred. Rory tried to find moments to talk with either of her parents privately, but every time a moment presented itself, someone would show up. It finally reached a point that she was starting to resent the entire family. Finally, it happened.

Her father took her siblings into town for some provisions, and, whether by chance or by design, she found her mother alone in the kitchen.

Rory, her mother greeted her with a warm smile.

Mother. We need to talk.

Larissa’s eyebrows raised nonchalantly. Alright.

She opened her mouth, then looked around to ensure they were alone. I need to know what the Kotharevars have over this family.

Her mother’s eyes went from holding the warmth of a summer’s breeze to the ice of the arctic. No, Lorelai. Let it go. She turned and immediately went for a wine glass.

No! I have a right to know.

Oh, really? Larissa said as she poured herself some wine. And what? she asked, whipping back around to face Rory. You think you’re gonna fix everything? Make it all go away?

I don’t know. But I have gold. Lots of it. Her mother scoffed as she drank almost her entire glass. And my group. They would help. We could figure out a way to get enough to pay off whatever debt we’ve incurred.

You think this is something that riches can fix? Do you not think that we have enough gold! That if it was something as simple as that, that we wouldn’t have sold everything off by now?

Rory’s jaw dropped. I don’t know because you won’t tell me anything. Maybe if I knew why the hell I just lost the man I love for a family I’ve barely reclaimed, I could fix this!

Larissa, having poured more wine, threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it. And what? Are you so powerful that you can alter space-time or fix the genetics of me or your father?

What? Rory said, absolutely colored in confusion.

I had a miscarriage. Alright!

She stood there staring at her mother, completely baffled. How can that—

It was dökkálfar! Rory’s jaw hit the floor. There! Are you happy now? Larissa stormed out of the kitchen and towards the den with her daughter at her heels.

What? How is that possible?

Larissa finally stopped, leaning heavily on the fireplace. I don’t know. Her mouth was agape as she searched for a reason. After your brother and sister, I thought… We thought that we’d, maybe, been blessed. Her lifted her hands, turning around. I mean, you know how hard elven pregnancies are. How few actually make it through to term. And here our family is with three young ones.

Rory sat down on the sofa as her mother continued.

So, we tried again. Everything was going great. I was a few months into the pregnancy when my stomach began to hurt. It felt as if I was being torn at from the inside. We were in town shopping and the next thing I knew… Larissa shook her head, distraught, and rubbed her eyes. And there it was. The black skin, the white puff of hair. Her eyes closed as she shook her head.

But how? Rory asked in absolute dismay.

Her mother shrugged. I don’t know. Somewhere, in one of us, there is a dökkálfar recessive gene. The proof was there in the miscarried baby. We covered it up. But somehow, the Kotharevars found out. They threatened to expose us. We offered them everything we had. But they wanted none of it. All they wanted was a bride. It was either you or Brenna.

Rory’s brow furrowed in confusion and then smoothed with clarity. They’re hoping, like you, I can produce children easily.

Her mother nodded and choked up with sadness, almost falling into an armchair. I’m so sorry.

Rory didn’t say anything, not having counted on a revelation of this magnitude.

The conversation with her mother replayed in Rory’s mind a thousand times. The reality of the precarious situation she was in pressed down on her, drawing her attention to the weight of the papers held in her right hand. It was the marriage agreement that she was to sign before they announced their engagement publicly tonight. It was much worse than she had ever imagined.

Not only was she to marry a man she did not love, but she was to stay married to him for an undetermined term. Specifying that the duration would end two years after they had fulfilled two requirements: consummate their marriage on their wedding night and she bore him a child. Her right hand slid down across her stomach.

As Rory set down the papers on the desk, there was a single knock at the door. Firalten stuck his head in, his eyes quickly falling on the papers.

Everything satisfactory? he asked as he opened the door and stepped inside.

All except one. Rory met his eyes, her shoulders pulled back with regal definition. Tonight, we announce our engagement.

Right…

We will also be announcing our wedding. Firalten looked taken aback. I will sign your marriage contract, but I do not want a long engagement. I want our arrangement to begin with all due haste.

He smiled almost mockingly. Still ignorant of our customs. Being with the humans has relieved you of what it means to be an elf.

Rory said nothing to this as she stood there holding the pen.

Seeing that his jibe had missed its mark, his face changed to one of annoyance. And when would we marry?

In one week, on the twenty-eighth.

One week! That’s not enough time to—

You will make it happen.

Firalten’s face turned to stone. He took a step towards her but she did not budge. And if I don’t? His voice held the slight edge of anger and annoyance.

Then the sham engagement is off. His right eyebrow rose as if ready to call her bluff, but she didn’t give him the chance. Oh, don’t get me wrong. We will lose everything. Of that, I have no doubt. But as an adventurer, soon I will have amassed enough gold to buy back all that was lost and have enough left over to eclipse even your family’s wealth.

Firalten stepped aside and poured himself a drink. Then why not just do that and not play our little game?

Because I have much bigger plans in mind. Plans that will require me to hold clout within the elven community of Fiuanna. That type of influence requires my family’s honor and reputation to remain unblemished.

The elven noble looked like a serpent ready to strike at the slightest hint of weakness. Rory kept her steely calm as he held his glass. Though she dared not take her eyes away from his, she could imagine the muscles in his hand tightening and then he set the glass down.

And if anyone asks questions, you can placate them with two answers as to why. First, that I have been around humans for too long. He gave her a smirk as she used his words. And second, that the new moon is a magical time of beginnings when you can recharge goals or set new ones. The perfect time for our new beginning.

Firalten thought about this a moment and then gave her another once-over, looking for any indication as to what her real agenda might be. When he was satisfied that none would be revealed, at least not in what little time they had before they were expected to make an entrance at the party together, he nodded his head in agreement. Rory put pen to paper and the ink glowed as she signed her name.

Once downstairs, her hand intertwined around the nook of his elbow, she and Firalten made the rounds, greeting all the guests. The house was basked in the warm glow of candlelight as the invitees drank wine and nibbled on appetizers.

Rory looked around the house for familiar faces and found almost none. Eventually locating her parents on the side of the room, she breathed a small sigh of relief having found someone whom she actually knew. Unfortunately, they were distracted, but that was to be expected with their status and having lived in this town for many years. They were very well known.

On the other side of the room, Firalten’s parents, Kashruil and Miranda, were standing by the entrance to the hall, greeting all who entered. While they smiled warmly, their eyes couldn’t hide the fact they were welcoming someone they didn’t know; they did nobility etiquette proudly, receiving them as if they were longtime friends. This went on for a while, during which time Rory made her way down to her parents.

She smiled warmly as they introduced her to new people. While the festivities of the party continued around her, everything began to distort. The walls felt like they were closing in, the people seemed to be growing greater in number, and it started to feel as if her lungs were refusing to take in long, deep breaths. Moving off to the side, she pulled at the corset under her dress which felt as if it was tightening a little every minute.

Looking around for an escape route, she was about to return to the office and hide when Firalten stepped up on the stairs and began tapping the side of his fluted drink with a teaspoon, silencing everyone.

We’d like to thank you all for coming. Tonight is an evening of announcements. The first, I’m sure you all know by now or have guessed, Firalten smiled mischievously as people in the crowd giggled. Lorelai, he said, extending his hand and welcoming Rory to join him on the steps.

She froze on the inside as all eyes turned on her. Somehow, and seemingly without her command, her feet began to move forward one step at a time. Before Rory realized it, she was joining Firalten on the steps.

Lorelai and I are announcing our engagement tonight. Everyone applauded. There were a few shouts of ‘here, here’ in honor of their marriage and one of Firalten’s childhood friends yelled over the crowd, It’s about time, drawing laughs from the guests.

Firalten raised his glass to this. Indeed, it is. They all continued to smile at their friendly banter, then quieted as he raised his left hand to speak. Also, with the approaching of the new moon, we have decided to tread slightly out of custom, choosing, instead, to be married with the new moon’s blessing, one week from today. As people cheered and began to clap, the young nobleman continued, So, we expect to see each and every one of you back here for the wedding.

The crowd cheered as they were congratulated by all of those closest to them. Rory stole two glances away to look at her parents. They were near the back, standing next to each other and, though smiling, the small look in their eyes told the truth of their concern with the arrangement. Miranda, on the other hand, looked at her with icy daggers between accepting congratulatory words from those around her.

Firalten waved to the last carriage as the horses pulled them away down the drive. Walking back into the house, he closed the door behind him, leaned his head back, and listened. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. Not even a squeak. He couldn’t have appreciated it more. Even the Sailvers, Rory and her brood, had left.

Opening his eyes, he looked around. His father had retired to his study for the night with a glass filled with liquor. His mother, who stood upon the staircase with her arms folded across her chest, looked at him with a stern expression, her lips thin with obvious irritation.

Everyone’s gone? she asked.

That was the last of them.

Miranda’s mouth turned up a little. Well played, my son.

She descended the last two steps and walked into the sitting room, allowing her son to fall in tow behind her. His mother’s red hair was as she usually had it— pulled up tightly into a bun with a lock of gray near the back allowed to show, worn as more of an accessory than a hint of age. Her eyes were blue, and she had a light dusting of freckles so opaque that one could only see them in certain lighting.

She sat down in a chair that was meant for his father— though always occupied by his mother— while pulling her shawl over her shoulders as Firalten stoked the fire a little. It was the last of the crisp evening air before the nights grew warm again with the coming seasons.

How did she react?

She didn’t.

Really? That’s interesting. Her eyes dropped, lingering on the chessboard at the side of the chair.

I didn’t even have to persuade her to marry quickly. She proposed the idea herself.

His mother’s brow furrowed in thought. Firalten watched as she rose from the seat and began to slowly make a circle around the room. It was an action he was very familiar with. For all her faults, she was as shrewd and calculating as they came. Always trying to be one step ahead of everyone.

I detected no deception, Mother. She wants this to be over as quickly as possible.

Miranda sat down and crossed her legs. So be it. As soon as she’s fulfilled her need and you have your son, we can deliver her desired ending.

Firalten smiled, mirroring his mother’s feral grin.

The two manors of the Sailvers and Kotharevar were a maelstrom of activity over the next week with the reception taking place at Rory’s parents’ house and the wedding being held at Firalten’s manor. May 28 th arrived in the blink of an eye.

Men and women buzzed all around Rory as they finished details such as fixing her train, adjusting her dress, finishing her make-up and hair as well as that of the bridesmaids, who ended up being daughters of known noble houses, all of whom the wizard didn’t know at all. But those were the politics of an elven marriage that she’d decided just to accept.

As all the bridesmaids were finished up, receiving their bouquets of flowers, they were ushered out of the room so the attendants could finish with the bride. Eventually, even they left, leaving Rory in the room alone. It was her first moment of silence since she’d woken up.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, twisting and turning to take it all in. Her hands stroked the dress softly as she followed the lines down to her waist. She always liked her athletic shape, though it seemed like every guy was looking for a girl more like Chloe with the apple bottom. Even so, she’d always enjoyed her thinner frame. Even more so when he was the one showering her with love…

It was then that her thoughts flew back to Christopher. Her chest warmed and pinched with sadness. She watched as the muscles in her jaw clenched and released as she pushed back the tears with the flames of anger. She knew he loved the way she physically looked, but he’d always commented about her eyes, how they’d contrasted against her fair skin. She’d come to like that about herself, too. Especially when a lock of her blonde hair would fall across her face. All emotions and thoughts of CK disappeared with a knock at the door.

Her father, Corbaravan, poked his head in, and, seeing her sitting in peace, stepped inside.

Are you ready?

Rory smiled, her bouquet of white flowers in her hands, and stood smoothly with grace and elegance. I am.

They walked down the stairs heading towards the back of the house. She knew that anyone who was anyone within the elven community was out there, sitting in their designated seat, waiting for the man at the door to give the signal to the orchestra to begin playing their instruments. But as they neared the bottom of the stairs, her father stopped and looked at her.

You don’t have to do this, he said.

Rory’s teeth ground together. She watched as her father’s breathing tightened. It was all he could muster. She could see he was fighting so many inner battles, and though she was the one giving up her freedom, in that moment, she could see for the first time— he was as trapped as she was.

She looked across the crowd of people that her father considered family and friends. She’d never grown up in a community such as this. One where the community could be just as close to you as the kin you grew up with. She knew of humans who’d disowned their entire families over an argument and that was just a handful of people. She couldn’t imagine losing an entire community, much less being shunned by one. As an adult, maybe he could deal with it…

Rory put her hand on his gently. I know I don’t, she said with a smile. But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for them. Corbaravan followed her gaze to her brother and sister, sitting in their chairs quietly but obviously bored. They deserve a chance at whatever future they want for themselves.

As they approached the back door of the house, the music rose lightly, floating through the air with a soft embrace, and then growing with force. The aisle was white, covered in flower petals that gave off a sweet scent. Everyone was seated in white, wooden folding chairs perched upon rich, green grass, looking back at her as they walked down the aisle. Arriving near the altar, her father handed her off to Firalten and, as he did, Rory asked for forgiveness from a lost true love, so far away.

Chapter Two

Deals & Taverns

Miranda sat with a small, slightly turned up smile as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She took small swallows of her own saliva and took very light, shallow breaths; underneath that calm demeanor, like the calm, tranquil exterior of a lake with no wind, insects, or ripples glistening across it, raged a firestorm of hatred and fury that one could only describe with part of the descriptive, ‘hell hath no fury.’ She hated few things in this life, if any. And loved even fewer. But if there was one thing that had managed to slither its way to the top of her hate list, it was Rory.

Stretching aggressively, her shoulder blades almost touching as the sound of her back popped, releasing some of the strain and pressure. She felt it. It wasn’t the touch of hair upon her shoulder or neck nor a smell or the air of breath. It was that feeling of someone being so close their energy made your hair stand on end. Miranda didn’t react, she didn’t jump or even turn her head. She just listened.

A voice as soft as the purring of a cat whispered into her ear, Your request for an audience has been granted. Make your way inside, just under the colonnade, and stand by the bust of your father.

Miranda looked to her right, smiled at one of the guests that’d caught her movement, looked back the other way, then casually stood and walked away. Though she could not see him, she knew that her son was looking at her the same as everyone else. What was more, she could feel his thoughts: Where could she be going at a time like this? But Miranda continued to leave. Unbeknownst to him, there were plans in motion with far greater importance than this sham wedding; much more of a priority than any of the pawns present here. She was about to meet a knight.

Moments later, Miranda stood near the bust of her father, far back and off to the left from the last line of seats, but still holding a small, angled view of her son. As the light ceremonial music started and Rory began to make her way down the aisle, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye. It had been years since she’d tasted fear. Real fear. Especially fear of the unknown; of the deadly plague she could be bringing down upon her and her house at the slightest misstep. Her lips pursed and she felt a tingle of excitement as she savored the flavor.

In the shadows at the end of the hall, just out of view, was a figure. There was nothing distinguishable to identify him except for the highlights of the shadows and the contours of the sharp edges of the front quarter of his face.

You requested a meeting, Mrs. Kotharevar. What can I do for you?

Miranda shivered with excitement as the embodiment of her fear spoke. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I’m honored you could attend—

I’m very busy. His tone was light, but there was no denying his threat to walk away.

I know the forces you’re leading, your undead horde, are about to land on the shores of Corsana’s southern inlet and will begin moving silently up towards Daleen and the Caelien Forest. She watched as the chin dropped ever so slightly. I have no interest in raising the alarm. But I do have requests for my silence.

The man’s head turned towards her. Go on.

I can read a map as well as anyone and can see the way the tide is turning. Ensuring my family’s safety, regardless of the victor, is required.

You’re requesting amnesty for all your kindred?

No. Only two. Myself and my son. Miranda hesitated in her requests, then continued. I also desire the blessing of immortality.

The corner of the man’s lips turned up, like a cat playing with a fresh prize between its paws. It hasn’t escaped my attention that you haven’t asked to spare the life of his newlywed.

Miranda mirrored his smile. Really? She glanced toward the processional. Must have slipped my mind.

I’ll consider your offer. However, you will be expected to provide tactical information upon demand. She nodded once. Very well. The man turned away when she spoke up.

My lord. How will you be known to me?

The man paused in the shadows with his back to her. His head turned slightly to the right, enough to see the side of his face and pale white skin. You will address me as Soren.

On the morning of June 9 th, Chloe woke to the sounds of birds chirping outside her window. A paper and quill sat on the desk in the room near an open envelope. She had received her invitation to Rory’s wedding and was requested to RSVP, but