THIS REALM IN WHICH she had wandered for an eternity, it seemed, was a kaleidoscope of colours and impressions. Nothing remained constant. All was alive and immaculate, rivers and fountains and foci of ariavanae, as if all the world were magic and she breezed through it with a sense of wonder which had not yet diminished. All was marvellous, every beat of every instant an inbreath of delight.

Memory of herself had become difficult to hold onto, insubstantial and unreal. In this realm, all she wanted to do was to play and dance and revel in the reality of magic. That place from which a familiar yet distant voice had called her seemed another domain entirely.

He was fire incarnate. The Felidragon manifested to her as leaping bonfires of magic-enhanced golden flame moving amongst a company of other beings who displayed peculiar and wonderful magical gifts; here a biting winter’s storm, there a nexus of brooding dark power, yet it was in no way evil; to one side four clusters of faint sapphire sparkles not dissimilar to her own; numerous creatures imbued with the living knowledge of their environment, who could change as they wished … so many wonders!

Yet her soul yearned most for the one who wove her melody.

Him. Her rescuer. What exquisite power of insight must he possess to know her this well, despite that she knew she had never met him before? She must give him thanks … yet first, a different task beckoned, one she understood only in terms of basal instinct. Raising her hands to send dreamlike magic whispering through the aether, she invited the Deepwoods to celebrate with her, to eject the darkly superb ones who lurked in the trees out into the open.

Exuberant giggles accompanied the act of unveiling. Necessary shenanigans!

Shimmering over to the golden one, she peered into the soul-halos that physical creatures called eyes and marvelled at what she beheld within. Nuanced magic. A breathtaking majesty of spirit. Knowledge … so much knowledge, yet all was coupled with a heart of blazing tenderness.

“Allory?” he rasped. “Allory Fae?”

The soundwaves caused the motes of her being to reverberate, arriving in her awareness as meaning, as a language she now recalled that she knew.

Allory. Was that name not anchored in flesh, in a being whose existence had once been factual? Was this experience less genuine? No. Turning about in place, her eyes lit on … herself. A body she remembered, yet she had never seen it from this perspective before. Resting. Sleeping. Frozen into immobility, yet not dead? Was this undeath? A hiatus between life and death?

She tried to speak as she recalled. “Aaaah … uh …”

Not that way. Instead, Allory reformed her being into an imitation as close as she could remember to that pitiful lifeless creature she remembered as herself, chuckling merrily as the golden eyes widened in further proof of his recognition. This was right. Aye. Somehow, she identified as an individual called Allory who had life and memories and actuality in the physical realm, yet the new truth she understood was that she also enjoyed a parallel existence in this other dimension – a realm perhaps best conceived as a magical aether?

Truly, she had no conception save that it was endlessly wonderful.

True too, that she sensed her friends’ deep grief and concern and knew her absence to be the cause. Allory could not bear for them to remain mired in despair. Summoning her sparkliest sparkles to the task, she experimented with several different methods before she found a way of causing herself to vibrate in the frequency of audible speech.

“All … Allory. I am Allory,” she managed to tinkle.

Oh! Odd sound.

His bewhiskered face crumpled. “Allory! Mrrwll! My … oh my sweet Sparkles … how? It’s really you?”

“It’s me, Yaarah, yet not as before.” Speech became easier as she attuned herself to the knack of producing vibrations. “I remember – it is difficult, in this state of life-magic, to remember how solid things used to be – but I am trying. Ashueli! I see you, Sweetblades!”

The Elf stifled a sob with her hand. “Allory! You’re … beautiful. More beautiful! Oh, what am I even saying? I’d hug you if I could.”

“It’s all a bit chaotic, but I think I’m alive,” she offered.

Life being inherently chaotic.

Allory tried to aim a sparkle-kiss at the Elf’s cheek but was not sure it did much apart from tickling her skin slightly. It was hard to tell where skin actually was in the first instance, but she found she could not pass through the membrane. Meantime, the companions laughed and exclaimed at her antics and wiped their eyes, acting so overjoyed that her sparkles quaked in empathy with their powerful feelings.

She piped, “I do have one important question. If I’m over here and that’s my body over there, how do I climb back inside?”

“I’ve no idea,” the Felidragon whispered.

“You can’t just … reinhabit yourself? That’s awkward,” the handsome canary-yellow font of flowery magic put in, with that dry humour she loved so well.

“Varzune, I missed your terrible jokes,” she smiled. Sparkle-smile … oh, suggids, how did one actually do that? She’d figure it out.

He dabbed at his eyes. “Alright, it’s your fault. These are manly tears, everyone.”

Allory chuckled, “Xiximay – I see your endlessly renewing magic, Zzuriel, who is the glory of winter incarnate … Sabline! Give me a kiss, you lovely rogue.”

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“With my fangs?” she purred.

“Fang-tastic,” quipped the Jokerbro, rediscovering his comedic touch.

Allory gurgled merely to please him and sparked elation, a wild fist-pump which threatened to shave his brofae’s nostril hairs but thankfully, missed its target.

Yaarah said, “I also have a question. Why do all the Deepwoods bow before you, Allory?”

“I – well, I don’t rightly know. I suppose it’s because they like me and I like them,” she reflected aloud. “I feel as if I’m at home here, Yaarah. There’s so much ariavanae in the air, in the soil, in all the beauty of the trees … look, do you see? I wave to them and they wave back to me. Aren’t they the sweetest?”

“Mrrwll!” he spluttered.

Ashueli’s jaw dangled, catching flies – but she kept snatching glances at the watching Dark Elves. Despite that her sparkles appeared to have spherical perception capabilities, Allory found she could not tear herself away from the tempestuous emotions sweeping through her friends. If only she could have wept with them, tears of joy. How incredible, how priceless, how staggering to realised she was loved like this!

Humbling.

Breaking the momentary silence, Varzune put in, “All in the sparkle, my dear Felidragon.”

To Allory’s eternal surprise, her companions all laughed knowingly. All in the sparkle? She wanted to frown in suspicion but could not work out how.

What did they know that she did not?

Eventually, she muttered, “The Deepwoods are a profound well of magic, friend Purrmaine. Ancient magic. Dryads and things older still slumber here. We should wake them. Indeed, I sense a slow, inexorable awakening to the danger that threatens this haven. This realm is a fearful place when roused. Fearful indeed.”

Her companions stilled at her unintentionally ominous words. Aye.

“Touching as this reunion is,” the tall Elf called over, “we have business here. Business with her.”

His finger lowered as if threatening to stab someone.

“Me?” Ashueli squeaked.

Everyone turned to stare at the confounded Elf.

“You.” Allory had the impression that the man smiled bleakly beneath that concealing helm. She caught a flash of the colour of his eyes, as clear and blue as the openness of Centresky itself. “I challenge you to a duel of Elven honour.”

Her jaw sagged. Ordinarily, the warrior Princess would never pass up a challenge. Her sudden pallor could not be mistaken.

She called over, “On … what terms? You are a Dark Elf, a Sali’karm of the Ahlumviar, if I am not mistaken. I am Synshuviar. How am I even supposed to be able to touch you in combat, my Lord? It is impossible.”

“Dare you suggest that I propose an unfair match, o Synshuviar? Draw your weapons of choice.”

Ash swallowed audibly.

Allory tasted the exotic, unexpected magic suddenly redolent in the air. What was this Dark Elf’s purpose here? All was far from clear. An honour bout? If Ashueli was right about the capabilities of these supreme Elven warriors, then it was no fair contest as he suggested. Even the disparity in their size had to work against. The Princess was tall, six feet and five, she had told the Scintillant, but to Allory’s inexperienced eye, he must stand a foot taller yet. Not one Human at Durhelm Castle had been this tall; his athleticism reminded her of the beauty of Giants. However, the cunning manner in which he had phrased his demand left her little choice. She could impugn his honour. That would not end well. She could fight and lose, or …

The Princess said, “A warrior of unimpeachable honour would set honourable terms.”

“Ooh, feisty!” Xiximay whispered.

“I accept your proposal,” he grated, an edge of anger entering his voice.

“My – uh, proposal?”

“If you are able to purposely touch me in single combat, as you said, I shall grant you the victory,” he stated flatly. “If not, I shall take you and your companions into my custody. You Felidragons trespass upon Elven territory. And you, Princess Ashueli, do not await the result of your prenuptial acquisition contract process in the traditional place.”

“Do you mean in my father’s household, in a state of suitably demure domestication?”

“As you prefer, Princess.”

A muscle twitched upon her jaw. “No man will ever own me.”

Dangerously soft.

The huge Elf shrugged out of his forest green robe, revealing a lanky figure clad in close-fitting, jet black clothing or armour, Allory could not tell which. He was magnificent. A savage marvel of magic, pent-up power and capability. He stood loose and lithe with supreme confidence, yet also, it did not come across as arrogance. Even at rest, he looked ready to battle Dragons and bring them to heel. His warrior aura was uncanny … but so was hers.

Allory’s sparkles flickered as she regarded the Princess quizzically. She sensed something extraordinary was about to transpire. How did this Elf even know who she was?

He said, “One might question the honour of an Elf in brazen breach of her familial contract.”

“Is such an acquisition honourable?”

“That point, I’ll grant – but I wonder, would you go quietly to the signatory?”

Her chin lifted proudly.

“And what might you think of such a man?” he challenged.

“I would deem the purchaser of a woman to be a worm and the accursed defecation of a worm, for to seek to own another being is despicable,” she spat back, enunciating every syllable so as to make sure her meaning could not be mistaken. The brilliance of her green eyes waxed with fury, incomparable. “I would curse him and all he holds dear beneath Middlesun – for I would rather die than become someone’s chattels, nor will I ever be the kept concubine upon which they father their filthy spawn!”

Again, unquantifiable rage seethed beneath his perfectly calm exterior. Allory was not sure if Ashueli sensed it or not, but she drew her zalish blades in a fluid motion, before lowering herself to her knees and bowing her head to the ground, the blades set in a crossed pattern before her.

She cried, “Ah-ritarim kon ta’aftan koi!”

Honouring him? The Elf responded in kind, moving like fluid crystal despite his great height. All she could see of his skin beneath his outfit was a striking, deep mahogany colour and those blue-in-blue eyes that appeared to pierce and know all. He laid his black crystal blade before him upon the lush sward and touched his forehead to it, before rising like a cobra coiling in readiness to strike.

Sabline hissed, “Ashueli –”

She shrugged slightly. “It’s an impossible ask, but I can’t refuse. Once I lose, he will drag me back to Durhelm Castle in disgrace. Father must have paid a pretty price to have a Sali’karm and his whole hunting party bring his daughter to heel. I guess his kind must see this as some kind of crown jewel to enhance their reputation. Capture the naughty runaway Princess. Drag her home in chains.”

The loud gnashing of Sabline’s fangs and the hovering of hands near weapons spoke much. Ash made a placating gesture as if to mandate that they should not interfere, which mollified no-one.

“Ash,” Allory tinkled, “there’s more to this than you think.”

“Allory – what?”

“I … don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. I just … I sense –”

“You’ve a feeling?” The lucid eyes considered her with disconcerting cognizance. “Once, I scoffed when you made a similar statement. This day, I swear I shall repay the insult I gave you.”

Suggids! How intense?

Her words had twisted back on her so fast, she had sparkle-whiplash.

With that, Ash strode forth from amongst their company, calling, “Come, Elf, the day grows no younger. Let’s duel.”

Without apparent movement on his part, the onyx blade appeared to sprout from his hands. Allory had never seen a martial act so terrifying. Ashueli merely tilted her chin.

“I’m ready,” the giant Elf growled.

She said, “As am I.”