“Denied.” A female voice echoed, clear and filled with weight and intent.

Knowledge and wisdom, insight and foresight… mandatory virtues to be elected as a Diviner among the elders of the Moongazer clan, which was why no one dared to raise a hand in protest before her decision; none of the Diviners seated around her, none of the twelve witnesses called to observe the meeting…

“Why?” The woman standing in the center of the glade asked, her tone devoid of everything but genuine curiosity, causing some of those watching to hold their breath, and one particular onlooker even brought a hand to her forehead and sighed in resignation.

A gentle breeze blew then, bringing with it the forest’s murmur, and drawing a distinct creak from the hanging seats the Diviners were on, circular and made out of wood while reinforced with woven vines, four seats meant for them to gaze at the starry sky while communing with nature, while realizing they were but part of it, part of something bigger than themselves… and so achieve enlightenment. Such were their beliefs as elves of the Moongazer clan; for them, the rustle of the leaves were but whispers to eavesdrop on, secrets that could sometimes drown every other sound, a sign of the forest’s breathing, a song of times past, and a proof that they were surrounded by life.

The wind caressing their skin…

The moist grass under their feet…

It was something to cherish.

Yet in that moment, no one had the right the mind to commune and meditate. “Are you questioning our reasoning?” The female Diviner inquired, as her figure languidly laid on her softly swaying seat, her features marked by the characteristic resilience to time elves had. Her voice, however, was stern, and none would ever dare to confuse her comfort for cause of negligence.

“Of course!” Asserted the elf at the center of the clearing, hands on her hips, her voice dancing in everyone’s ears as her pink hair brushed her naked shoulder. “I would never deny something without saying why first. That’s just mean.”

The wind swirled once again, drowning scandalized mutters under its calling, carrying loose grass and the small drops of moist on them, some getting caught in the waves of the elf’s loose pink dress, which was now flapping behind her as it defined her figure all the way to her ankles.

“Mean?” The Diviner posed, her expression unperturbed despite the unusual situation she was in. Hardly anyone would ever voice their dissatisfaction of a decision made by the council, and much less imply they could ever behave in less than a dignified manner. “Are you aware of the gravity of your request?”

“I wouldn’t be here if that weren’t the case.”

“Then I believe you should already know why it was denied.”

The elf shook her head, and placing a hand on her chest, she replied, “The threads have been weaved, so I have observed. If we do nothing, Nemesis’s resting place will also become our own.” Her gaze, veiled behind her eyelids, was no less determined than the one she was under as she voiced her answer, and so could the Diviner see when she opened them again. “I hope you are not doubting my words. That would sadden me.”

There, from her seat, The Diviner Adthana took a deep breath. “We do not, Moira Sylvein. Yours is a rare talent, for not many are able to peer into the tapestry with your clarity. I myself have been witness of this; Moira is not a title we grant lightly.” Despite the recognition, one particular onlooker noted, the Diviner’s tone lacked the respect one would expect her to have for someone with such a gift. Only three Moirai could exist at any given time, after all. “Nevertheless, our lady Equidna’s decree is clear: we mustn’t meddle in human’s affairs.”

“Yet the fact remains. What has been lost, shall remain lost. If we aid that person’s endeavour, we’ll have the key to our people’s future.” The onlooker sighed. She didn’t need to be a Moira to know how the conversation was going to end. “Why must we abide by an order from someone who has not been seen in a millenia? Why, when the very forest is at stake? The same forest that contemplated the Starglitter, listened to Diana’s secrets, and has passed on to us her gifts since the founders of our clan sought refuge between its woods.”

Like a gale, her meaning swept through the elves who were called as witnesses, her voice sweet yet heavy like those things that truly matter; Her words spoke of legacy, of heritage, and so the wind carrying them was breathed in, naturally, by those listening…

Yet their charm was broken the next instant.

“Someone?” Adthana’s voice acquired a distinct cold note as she repeated the word. “Careful how you talk about our Mother, Moira. I won’t have word spreading through the continent, saying the Moongazer clan doesn’t treat our creator with the respect she deserves.”

Everyone around, everyone who wasn’t familiar with Sylvein, couldn’t but be surprised upon seeing her pout. “But… that’s what…” She started to retort, yet a loud shush from a particular someone interrupted her, the sound quickly turning into a cough as everyone turned to look at the female elf.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Sorr-.” She coughed again. “Sorry.”

“Daelee… “ Sylvein muttered, too low for anyone to hear. Then, she nodded to herself, and with renewed determination, she faced forward once again. “And what about the answer to my question?”

Adthana narrowed her dark-brown gaze, a rare color among the pale green Moongazer elves were normally born with. “Your request is denied.”

“Why?”

All gazes were drawn to the Diviner as she spoke. “Because we do not tamper with Fate, Moira.” That last word was added almost with a shade of disgust. “You know fully well why.”

“Even if it involves…?” She began to counter, yet Adthana cut her short with the sharpness of an elven curved blade.

“Enough.” The pure hostility suddenly emanating from her, entangled Sylvein’s answer into a knot, which got caught in her throat. “Your request is denied; and this council, dismissed.”

Her gaze fell to the moist grass, and there it remained for a long while. She never found out when everyone left, her friend among them, yet when her steps once again began to move her forward, she left all hesitation behind.

Later, inside a tree that seemed to have grown into a shape fit for someone to live in, Sylvein slowly closed a satchel made of orange leaves, resting on a simple wooden desk. A gift from her mother, who was now eternally sleeping among the roots connecting the whole of the Ararori Woods. The bag itself was a beautiful work of magic, woven by a dark elf druid, and could hold much more than its appearance would infer. However, she hadn’t packed much, for she wouldn’t need much.

Such were the advantages of being her.

“Am I early enough to change your mind?” Inquired a female voice, which startled her; so deep in thought she had been while looking at her modest abode.

“Daelee…”

“As I thought, you are going to go.” The elf, of long hair the color of fertile earth, and the characteristic pale-green eyes of the clan, stepped closer, settling her hand on Sylvein’s shoulder. “Honestly, are you crazy?”

“Uh?” She couldn’t but blink before her bluntness, her pretty eyes sparkling under the soft light of an amber lamp.

“I’ve known you since we were but two wet sprouts, so I’m used to how special you are. When you became a Moira, I was elated, thinking you had finally found your place in the world, a reason why you were how you were… “Daelee turned around, and rested her weight on the desk, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “But I never expected you to catch a glimpse of such a tragedy, much less to address the council directly with what I can only call an outrageous request. I did expect the outcome, however.”

Sylvein nodded, a light smile on her lips. “I think… I did too.”

“Then cease. Stay here, with me. We’ll find another way.” Elves were rarely afraid of physical contact, and Daelee’s sudden embrace felt unusually warm as her smile widened before her touch.

She understood the reason behind such warmth.

“The Wailing Curtain surrounding the House of Nemesis will swallow the forest if I don’t do something, Daelee.” She placed a hand on her arm, crossing in front of her chest. She hoped such touch could convey how sure and calm her own heart was. “I’ve seen it. I’m sure I can change it.”

“We do not tamper with Fate, my friend. Why are you so set on this? Look at what happened to our Lady Diana for doing so.” Daelee tried as best she could to hold back her own worry.

Sylvein, however, shook her head, and turned around in the embrace to fully face her. “The records passed down don’t go into much detail about it, but through my experience while peering into the tapestry… I believe the goddess of the moon wasn’t able to manipulate Fate like that.”

“Belief can only carry you so far…”

“Dear Daelee, our beliefs are the only thing that can carry us far.” Her smile was sweet as she said this. “And my heart is telling me that, as a Moira, I’m one of the few who can understand her circumstances. I think… Diana only acted when she was meant to.”

Daelee furrowed her brow, trying to understand her friend’s words. “Are you implying… she was fated to alter Fate?”

Sylvein nodded, twice in a quick row, happy before her comprehension, provoking her curls of pink hair to bounce between them. Daelee, however, was far from feeling joyful, something that was caught by the Moira. “Don’t be sad, please. I’d much rather remember your smile while I’m away. You are so beautiful when you smile.”

Daelee, in that moment, like in many others in the past, realized her friend had an unusual talent to reach someone’s heart, and so couldn’t help but do as she told her, urged by the love she had spurred. She was determined, she knew. That spark in her eyes spoke volumes, to her, the one person who had been by the side of an elf no one could come to understand, not among their clan whose members strived to be calm, collected, and elegant.

Sylvein… she just wanted to be happy, and so she was. Daelee knew, and cherished her for it.

“So bright, so warm; like the gentle touch of the first ray of the sun during the Leyline springtice.” Sylvein nodded once again. “Thank you, Daelee. I think nothing can stop me now.”

Their embrace didn’t last long after that, and as her figure disappeared into the mystery of the night, she had to keep to herself the many questions plaguing her mind.

How would she leave unnoticed?

What was her plan to cross the Split Sea? The one barrier separating their continent from the human’s?

Why it had to be her?

And beneath all those questions, there was her one regret. The words, left unspoken, tied down by her own fears and rooting her in place.

“I’m coming with you.”

They never left her lips.

Nor did she act.