Alexia laid in her bed, clutching her branded hand as she thought of the events of what had turned into a horrible day. She knew well the story of her mentor, of how he was the only member of the Council to have ever been added with the passing of an original member. It didn’t help that the one who had passed was his sister, supposedly killed by being stabbed in the back. If it was any of the other races, Alexia would have doubted such a story, but the fae were inherently frail. They made up for that frailness in having the ability to use more magic than anyone else, three fields of magic open to them compared to the usual one or two.

By all means, the mention of his dead sister tipped him over the breaking point; Galhawk using his deadname simply added insult to injury. Both insults to the fae were equally horrible, and only made Alexia feel worse about losing. That fight wasn’t about proving herself to some egocentric dwarf, it was about her mentor’s peace of mind. A peace of mind she had failed to keep , and only hoped the other members of the Council that night would be able to succeed.

Alexia looked out to the night sky, knowing this was the get together for the Council of Peace that Rashi had told her about. Halerosh had invited her, just like the orc days earlier, and once again she declined. If she didn’t feel like she deserved it a few days ago, she definitely didn’t feel like she did tonight. It didn’t help that her hand was burning badly, keeping her from even being able to get a good night’s rest.

She raised her branded hand in front of her face, staring at the ethereal chain that was the cause of the burn. She had grown used to it over the course of the week, only glad that she hadn’t felt it burn up like it had the day she met Cyrus. That day the burn pointed her towards Ellio, but where in Ellio was still a mystery. Without a more concrete idea of where the Lord of Terror was, they were in the dark with no idea who they were looking for. Even knowing they were in Ellio, the country was large enough that searching without a given area was worthless.

As worthless as she had proven to be over the past many days. Unable to pinpoint the Lord's exact location was just one of the ways that had been proven. Running from a creature that very much wanted her dead instead of fighting, embarrassingly saved from a tumble by Diada, and now humiliated in a spar with Galhawk. As much as she hated the dwarf for daring to say Halerosh’s dead name to his face, he had been correct about her. All these months of training, and now she felt like zero progress had been made.

“And I still have no fucking clue why I exist on top of it all,” Alexia says to herself. A sigh escaped her mouth as her unbranded hand covered the branded one. “If I continue to fail, will Alabaster kill me for being a threat? A hero like him wouldn’t do such a thing, right?”

He wouldn’t, she had to believe in such a thing. It didn’t make the thought she was already a failure any worse, but she needed something to hold onto. She used to battle back against those thoughts by putting more focus on her training, but now she wasn’t sure. Her training wasn’t helping her, but there felt like nothing else for her to do. Alexia was stuck, and she couldn't help but hate that feeling.

Her thoughts were distracted as she heard a knock on her window, confusion the leading factor in her thought’s derailment. A breath got caught in her throat as she saw a face she hadn’t seen in days: Laurolia. She had no idea how the elf, plant, whatever they were had gotten there, but there they were. They weren’t trying to hide their more inhuman side as well, one arm looking more like a vine while her feet had the distinct look of roots. Alexia backed up, throwing off her blankets and summoning her mana pool in front of her. She had no idea if it would do anything to the creature or not, but with her scythe on the other side of the room it was all she had.

“Tell your Council… and my enemies… I will kill them.”

The words were still fresh in her head, the presence of the one who delivered them just made it louder. Braced as she was for conflict, Laurolia did nothing for a time. She breathed into the window, fogging the glass as she did. She then dragged her vine-like hand across what she had fogged up, writing to the best of her ability. It wasn’t the best writing in the world, but as Alexia got up from her bed she could clearly make out what it was the creature was writing.

“Meet me in the streets,” Alexia read out loud. Her eyes went from the message to the creature that wrote it, and gave a nod.

Laurolia didn’t smile, her head tilted to the side just as always and eyes as lifeless as Alexia remembered. With her message delivered, she jumped off the window and down into the darkness of the night. Alexia ran up to the window, trying to figure out how she would have survived a two story fall unscathed, by darkness engulfed all outside her room. With the knowledge that whatever Laurolia had planned was likely not friendly, she grabbed her scythe before grabbing her clothes. Unknown to her she had picked out the same outfit she had worn the day she met the creature.

“Not exactly pleasant to be talking with someone with a rather big knife behind my back,” Alexia said as she put on her shirt. “Though, considering the likelihood that this turns sour, I’m sure she will have one behind her own back too.”

-x-

Twenty minutes later, Alexia stepped outside the estate of her mentor and into the streets of Hisin. It was so different at night, calm and quiet to the point the girl couldn’t believe this was where she dreaded being most in the world. Typically it was filled with the emotional turmoil of dozens of passersby, but when the sun set the streets were abandoned. Alexia liked it, her head not turning to her left where Laurolia stood but to the sky above.

She saw a pale blue moon, small in size but beautiful despite it all. If she remembered correctly, the moon was called Hur’theul. Its name derived from the Oracle that supposedly wrote it into existence, though why the moon was made by a different Oracle than that which made Evra eluded her. That didn’t stop her from gazing into it, easily the most beautiful thing that she had seen in her short existence. Reached up to grab it like a child would, and just like that child she would not truly reach it as she closed her hand on it.

“I’m right… here.”

Laurolia’s monotone, dead inside voice woke Alexia from the trance the moon had put her in. Alexia turned to her left, the one who had summoned her fully disguised as an elf at that moment. Said “elf'' was just as unreadable to Alexia as ever, the typical emotional aura that all others had was not present. Now she wondered if it was because Lauralia had emotions at all, which given her less than human appearance could be very likely. If she was right, then she was likely the only person who knew and saw their appearance as anything more than just creepy and unsettling.

“I know you are the one who called me out here, but I need to ask you something first,” Alexia asked as she shook her head. It was not the right time to be worrying about that kind of stuff. “I know you aren’t an elf, at least not completely. I’ve never heard of a plant species able to mimic the recognized races,” She knew she was stalling, but Alexia wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer or not. “I… I want to know what you are.”

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“What I am?” Laurolia mimicked back. Her head fell forward, a look of pain somehow visible behind the soulless nature of her eyes. “I am not… supposed to be able… to think like you. I believe your… kind calls me… a Siren Trap.”

Alexia had never heard the name of the species before, but then again she hadn’t put most of her time into studying biology. The siren part of the name was familiar and immediately put her on guard. Creatures who lure sailors in with songs to eat them, taking the appearance of women to further sell their disguise. Alexia’s body tensed as the dots connected, the elvish appearance suddenly even more threatening

“I’m an… experiment,” Laurolia told the girl. “The voice of… the forest was buried. Something strangles it. Elenori wished to… free that voice… but she got the sign,” She held a hand out, the back of it facing her. Her eyes were locked there as her memories turned to the past. “I don’t know… what her fellow elves… did to her. In her attempt to… free the voice… I was removed from it.”

A sudden realization hit Alexia, one that made her very afraid. Despite being unable to see Laurolia’s emotions in a literal sense, the look on the plant girl’s face told her everything. No longer was she able to tell if she felt scared or sorry for Laurolia, but that was all depending on what she thought was correct. With a deep breath to prepare herself, and the silence of night around them, Alexia took a step forward.

“The form you take, is it what Elenori looked like?” Alexia asked, afraid of the answer she knew was coming. After five long seconds of pause, Laurolia nodded, and Alexia’s stomach turned. “I’m sorry Laurolia. I’m so, so sorry.”

Alexia didn’t even know the full truth, one that Laurolia kept tucked away for only her to know. The day Elenori died, and the day Elenori gave her a name were one in the same. When the elves opened her door, they found not her owner, or sister as she called the elf, but her disguised as them. They were none the wiser to her death, no body present in the room for there was none left to find. The thought of what she did still made Laurolia sick.

“She asked me… to save them,” Laurolia said, her eyes focused back on the human girl in front of her. “Save the elves… from the wrongful voice. That is my… reason to live. My reason… to exist,” She held her hand out to Alexia again. “The Council will… do nothing. When the Lord is dead… they shall do nothing. Alexia, please… you got the sign… just like Elenori. You have the… power to stop the voice.”

Alexia looked to her own hand, the one with the Sign of Fog on it. For Elenori to have had the Sign of Fog, and for Laurolia to stand here, she assumed that the elf had to have been one of the first to be branded. As far as she was aware, a brand could show up at least a week before a Lord of Terror would appear, so Elenori had to have gotten it even earlier than she did. If this was indeed a problem that lined up with the Lord’s belief, then clearly the lord was not a horrible person.

Yet she knew well that as long as the Council stood, the Lord of Terror would die. She already knew that her chances to be remembered were nil if she stood with them, and Elenori’s wish would likely not be fulfilled. Nothing would change, and the elves would suffer. Even if she was a failure overall, surely they would listen to the pleas of a girl who had experienced it all first hand. Confident in her decision, she closed her hand into a fist and turned back to Laurolia.

“You say the Council will do nothing, but have you even thought of telling them?” Alexia asked. She gave Laurolia a smile and took another step forward as she spoke. “The Council of Peace sees over all issues throughout Eurea, specifically those that the governing powers of each country either doesn’t know about or refuses to acknowledge. It is part of their code,” She held her non-branded hand out to the plant girl, hopeful that her words could get through. “If what you say is true, then you have my support. Let's tell the Council and see Elenori avenged.”

At Alexia’s words, Laurolia withdrew her own stretched out hand. Alexia looked at the girl with shock, the way she hung her head clear that those were not the words she wanted to hear. For a while Laurolia said nothing, but then she looked back to Alexia. For a moment, she thought she had gotten through to the plant girl. The hope faded as Laurolia did not reach out her hand to grasp Alexia’s.

“Alexia… why would the Council fix this… after ignoring it for… so long?” Laurolia asked. “This problem… isn’t new. The Elves have suffered… under it for… more than a century,” She took a step forward and held her hand out once again. “Alexia, the Council doesn’t… care for this threat. The Lord does and… we both share the… desire to stop it. Please, stand with me. Show me to the Lord… and we can stop… the false voice’s influence.“

Alexia was still hung on the question Laurolia had asked, not because she had no answer but because of what she had revealed. One hundred years, that was how long the elves had been living under this cruelty. She could only imagine the other horrific acts that whoever twisted the forest’s words had caused. Even worse, the Council had stood by as it all happened, but she told herself it was purely because they didn’t know. It was an excuse, but she was too stubborn to let her worldview crumble under such conditions.

“I… I can understand why you would refuse to work with them with such knowledge,” Alexia replied. Sweat was starting to form on her, the once cool night turning hot as she tried desperately to stop a possible fight. “Yet the Lord is not in Manark. They likely have no clue as to the problem and may not be who you think they are. No one knows who they are, even the Council. Would you really place the fate of an entire species on a complete nobody?”

“Yes.”

Her answer was so short, so quick, and so simple that Alexia found herself unable to determine if it was blind naivety or stubbornness that made her say it. Her expression dimmed, a frown had taken the place of the hopeful smile she had done her best to keep up. She knew well where this was heading, and what it was she must do. Even without the knowledge Laurolia stood with the Lord, the words from days prior would have pitted the two against each other.

“Then, in accordance with the code of light followed by the Council, and approved of by the Oracle Vas’e’lou, I must… kill you,” Alexia said. She didn’t notice how her voice wavered as she tried to speak, and how she failed to keep her gloom out of her words. “I’m sorry, Laurolia. I know you mean well. If it means anything, I will personally see to it your story is delivered to the Council on your death. If they don’t involve themselves…” She slammed her scythe into the earth, its blade facing Laurolia. “If they don’t, I will take matters into my own hands.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” Laurolia replied. Her elven form unraveled like an illusion as she spoke, arms turning to vines, feet to roots, and where one’s face should be was a maw of what looked like jagged thorns. “But I will… not die here. I knew you would… say no. I was just… humoring an old man.”

“An old man?” Alexia asked, but it dawned on her quickly who the identity likely was. “It was Cyrus, wasn’t it? You know he made the sign of fog, right? That makes him just as much of a factor in Elenori’s death as–”

“Don’t you dare… insult the greatest mage… in all Evra,” Laurolia said. Alexia had no clue how the plant girl spoke when that was her true form. “He is why you… can have a mana pool. He is the forefather… of all magical study… and the forest will not… stand for blasphemy.”

Alexia’s eyes went wide in shock as she heard that. She summoned her mana pool, staring into its green surface with the awe of a young child. “He… he is the reason that–”

Her focus was brought back to the plant girl as she heard Laurolia manage something vaguely sounding like a roar. A vine nearly contacted her cheek, the plant girl having closed the distance in the time she had gotten distracted. She focused her manapool on the ground, jumping back as a gush of poisonous liquid exploded forth. It dawned on her too late that her opponent wasn’t human, walking through it as if it was nothing. With distance put between her and her adversary, she had a moment to think about her approach.

Though her mind quickly came to the conclusion that she had found herself in the worst situation imaginable.