I hesitate for a moment, and then follow Cyrus into my cabin. The cleric walks to the middle of the room, turns to me, and waits for a reaction. I look around but there’s no sight of the demon.

“See anything? He asks.

I shake my head, still scanning the room just to make sure.

The cleric spins his staff, as if fending off an invisible intruder. “Sometimes just being with another person is enough to scare them off, but sometimes that’s what actually draws them in. You never know with demons. Wherever you’re most vulnerable, that’s where they’ll be.”

He talks with such confidence. “It sounds like you speak from experience.”

“I’m just repeating my elder. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive such chronic temptation.”

I deflate. “Well, that’s great news for me.”

“But I was told you would be,” the cleric continues. “So take heart in that.”

‘Take heart’ that common phrase from my loyal commander. He said it at the end of briefings, to his soldiers, other officers…to me.

“I’ll try to,” I say.

There is a noise from the door and I turn toward it.

“Sounds like you two need your own cabin,” Myran says as he stumbles in the room. “I can put in a word for you with the lord if you like. He loves me to death as you can tell.” Myran tips to the side and almost keels over.

Is he wasted?

He straightens and looks us over. “Not interested? Then I’ll have to ask you to get away from my bed.”

He points to the cleric and starts to stagger over.

The cleric doesn’t move. “You’re drunk.”

Myran shrugs. “Brilliant observation. Truly, you are a gifted man.”

“The night before our quest.”

The fiancé squints. “Is it night already? Are you sure?”

The cleric squeezes his staff. “If I was in charge I would –“

“But you’re not!” Myran shouts. His chest heaves and his casual arrogance is replaced by sudden anger as he seethes. “And I’m not either. We’re supposed to listen to him.” He points at me and could have drawn his sword for all the wrath in it.

“You listen to me, hero,” he says, his stinky breath incinerating my nostrils. “Get in my way and you’ll find a more dangerous enemy than some rebellious elves.”

He grasps his sword hilt and suddenly the situation becomes incredibly tense.

What is going on???

Another sound from the door. “Myran!”

I look back and see the elf princess fuming at her fiancé. “Are you drunk again? The night before your quest?”

Boom. Take that asshole.

The elf warrior pales under the accusation. His bravado evaporates and he looks like he’s just been struck by Thor’s hammer. “It was only a couple,” he whines, “just to take the edge off.”

“Edge off,” she pounces. “You'll need every once of 'edge' for the quest tomorrow. I certainly don’t know why you’d want to lose any of it.”

She turns to leave and I can’t stop the smirk spreading across my face.

That’s my girl.

“Wait,” says Myran. “Where are you going?”

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“I’m leaving,” she replies. “There’s no point in me staying here if you’re just going to pass out at night like you always do.”

“I do not!” and the mighty warrior is transformed into the sniveling boyfriend.

“It’s close enough,” princess responds. “Maybe instead of drowning in self-pity you could try to help our people.”

The drunken elf darkens. “I do plenty to help our people, Luna. Even if your father won’t recognize it.”

“Then prove him wrong,” Luna replies, suddenly urgent and pleading herself. “Show him what you’re capable of.”

“I already have,” says the fiancé, “and he still doubts me.”

“Not after this he won’t. Not if you help Ethan succeed.” She points at me and all eyes turn my direction. “If you help Ethan win the war he’ll have to accept you as heir. He won’t have a choice.”

Myran’s eyes blaze. “He's a fraud! One lucky swing and now he’s the chosen one? I’ve never even heard of him before.”

“I never heard of you either,” the princess says quietly. “No one had. Some common elf from the edge of the woods stupid enough to travel through the plains alone, hunting bandits and rescuing travelers, human and elf alike. That boy was so bold and so courageous that he attracted the attention of both noble and commoner.” She pauses and smiles at him. “He attracted mine as well.”

And just like that Myran deflates, and I can’t blame him. In fact, I’m downright jealous.

How many elves do I have to rescue for her to smile like that for me?

“What I want to know,” Luna continues, “is whether that boy is still here, or if he’s just been swallowed-up by his own resentment and arrogance.”

The room is silent for a minute as Myran looks back and forth from me to the princess. Eventually, his eyes stop at me. “I will follow your lead, Ethan” he says, and then points to his betrothed. “But I do it for her. I do it for the elves. Not for you.”

I guess I’ll take what I can get.

I take a deep breath, composing myself. "Thank you," I reply. "I hope to be worthy of your trust."

Myran pauses for a moment as if considering the statement, then looks me in the eye, and nods slowly.

Some measure of respect at last. It's a miracle.

The princess pulls a crystal vial out from her satchel. “Now, with that settled, perhaps we can return to the original purpose of my visit: a little toast before your journey. It’s an old elven tradition, and I've always liked it.”

The cleric steps forward. "You have the flower of Jesse?"

I scrunch my brows. "Jesse?" I ask. "That's a funny name for alcohol."

The other three look at each other and even my supportive cleric grins a little.

Alright, so I'm a naive newb. Sue me already.

"It's not like wine or beer," the princess says gently. Her voice is kind and supportive. "It's nectar from the Jesse flower. Well, lots of Jesse flowers actually, concentrated and distilled into this vial. It's good for clearing the head of negative emotions. Perfect for the meeting of new friends. Or giving old ones another chance..."

Is she referring back to our breakfast in the palace? Our argument?

I behaved so badly that day, but she seems to be the one apologizing to me. Her green eyes are so beautiful, and her voice is so kind, I practically melt on the spot.

Keep it together young man. You don't want to be embarrassing yourself like Myran just did.

“Sounds cool," I manage to say without drooling.

"Great!" Luna says. "Now let's all sit together."

We sit on the floor and I feel like I'm in some old cowboy movie set on the planes of Kansas. As we pass the vial around I feel like all that's missing is the tents and the buffalo.

"Take just a drop," Luna says as the cleric gives the vial to me.

The vial is made of blue crystal and glistens in the torch light. It feels tender and tough at the same time, almost artificial in quality.

"Where did you get this crystal?" I ask.

"I got it from a trader who came through years ago," says Luna. "I'm not sure where she got it. But it looks drawven to me."

"The dwarves? They work with crystal?"

"Drawven artisans work with many materials," the cleric adds, "and do so better than any elf or human."

"That may be, Cyrus," says Luna. "But this is not a Cultural lecture and you two are spoiling the mood."

Her face is still kind but it's pretty clear she really just wants me to shut-up and try the nectar.

Fair enough.

Twisting the vial above my mouth it as I would a wine bottle I let a small gobule of the nectar slither onto my tongue. I swallow. For a moment nothing happens and then I feel warmth radiating throughout my body. Like the flower is blooming inside. Along with it comes a feeling of peace and harmony that calms my anxieties and eases my fears. There’s also an optimism about the taste, like a bright light permeates my little cabin and reminds me of what a splendorous world I live in. Despite all the violence and pain I suddenly feel lucky to be alive, to be here, fighting for elves and humans alike.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"I think. It's amazing."

Luna's eyes sparkle and the others laugh at my reaction. It's not a mocking tone though and for a little while we are true companions, talking and laughing with one another. Whatever politics or personal animosities lay between us are shunted aside with help of this little plant.

They need some of this stuff back on Earth.

That night I close my eyes peacefully, waiting for sleep to take me, and relishing the lingering effects of the nectar. But just as I’m drifting off, there is a tingling in my ears, a slender, female voice slipping under the covers of my contentment.

“Nighty-night, my hero. I’m still waiting for you.”