“So, you’ve been to the elf lands before, right?” Searle asked.

“Huh?” Joan asked. “I mean, yes. Of course I have. It would have been pretty weird if I’d never been there. I traveled all over when I was the Hero.”

“What’s it like there?” Searle asked.

Joan gave a small frown and tried to picture how to properly phrase it. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories from the few elves in the academy, right?”

“Assume we haven’t all been to this academy,” Korgron said.

“Oh? Are you asking too?” Joan asked, unable to keep the teasing out of her voice. “And here I thought only Searle was feeling nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Searle said, though she could see it was a pretty obvious lie by the way his eyes lowered.

“It’s fine,” Joan said. “It’s a unique place. Very clean, sterile. Bauteut, you’ve healed some elves before. Can you explain that part?”

“I’ve healed a handful from minor scrapes,” Bauteut said. “I’ve hardly done research on them, so I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

Joan gave a soft sigh and nodded. “Well, uhhh. I’m not really sure how to phrase it, so please don’t take it the wrong way.”

“This might come as a shock to you,” Zorn said. “But I don’t believe any of us are elf. I could be wrong, mind. Korgron is quite the looker.”

“I’ve probably got some in my lineage,” Korgron said with a light chuckle.

“I don’t doubt it,” Joan said. “Right, I guess start with the obvious things. They’re kind of reclusive, for good reason. I imagine all of you, except Korgron, know that they rarely leave their homes. While they have some of the greatest healers in the world, they will often have the wounded come to them. Now, a few have left their homes, but those are usually short lived for one reason or another.”

“Come on, get to the good stuff,” Korgron said. “Is it true they’re, in most cases, immortal?”

“No,” Joan said, her stomach tightening slightly. That brought back some unpleasant memories. She remembered how excited she was to finally meet with the elves, even if they were a shadow of their former selves. But what she learned as the Hero was anything but the beautiful myths she’d heard. “They don’t age, but they’re far from immortal. They’re also… beautiful. In a special way.”

“In a special way?” Bauteut asked. “How is something beautiful in a special way? Lyndis seemed fairly normal.”

“It’s not as noticeable when there’s only a handful of them. But get a bunch of elves together and they’re like the fae,” Joan said. “They have fae origins in them, which gives them a kind of aura. It’s attractive, in many cases. They’re mostly immune to it, so they don’t really notice. But other species tend to. The Chosen will likely be resistant to it. Bauteut, Zorn? Try not to get your hearts broken.”

“Good to know you have such faith in us normal people,” Bauteut said with a roll of her eyes.

“They’re also incredibly vulnerable to disease and wounds,” Joan said. “While they don’t age, they don’t heal well either. It’s why they have such powerful healers. A small scrape, if not tended to, can quickly become infected and kill even a healthy elf. It’s part of why they were almost wiped out centuries ago. The plague killed every single elf over a century old and most of those younger. While the humans, dwarfs and demons were still decimated by it before the Hero of that time could stop it, the elves were most heavily hit. The vast majority of their history was lost with it, including their records of lineage.”

“Lineage?” Searle asked. “Is that important?”

“Very,” Joan said. “It’s part of why Neia was in so much danger. While they do have a ruler, of sorts, the elves have a kind of council as well. Six of them, with one designated as their ruler. King or queen, as it were. All of them were descendants of either a hero or chosen of the past. The plague wiped out almost all six of them and, since then, they’ve been trying to recover and figure things out again. Two of the council seats are still vacant, with the remaining four hotly contested. Neia is, currently, holding a seat. However, her seat isn’t exactly stable due to her lineage being in dispute.”

“So all you’ve got to do is fix that?” Bauteut asked. “Then we’re good and we’re another Chosen down?”

“Kind of,” Joan said. “She’ll still have enemies, but I doubt even the elves would be likely to move openly against a Chosen. While they’re not always the most inviting, they won’t-- shit!”

All of them stopped, every eye on her with a mix of nervousness and anxiety.

“Korgron,” Joan said, quickly turning to the demon. “I am so sorry. I nearly forgot. I mean, I did forget, but it wasn’t a big deal for us at the time. It probably will be now, though.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Korgron asked, staring at her.

“You’re a demon,” Joan said. “We almost always got you after we got Neia. Even the times we didn’t, your reputation had spread a bit. You’re going to want to hide that until… uhhh…”

“My skin is blue and I have horns,” Korgron said, giving her a flat, unamused look. “It’s not exactly something I can hide. I thought all of you people respected the Chosen?”

“We do,” Joan said. “Mostly. I mean, yes. But, err…” Oh, she could almost feel the annoyance radiating off her friend. “It’s not quite that simple.”

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“What, are they going to try to light me on fire?” Korgron asked.

“Yes,” Joan said. “Or stab you, shoot you with arrows, any number of other things. Once they know you’re the Chosen and word spreads? You’ll be fine. Mostly. But the elves don’t, well. One might say they’re…”

“Zealots?” Bauteut asked.

“That’d be a word for it,” Joan said. “I mean, not that, err…”

“Just how hostile are they?” Korgron asked. “Should I be expecting poisoned food, an assassin in the night? Would it be better for me to be doing something else while you travel here?”

“I mean, they only tried to assassinate you once or twice,” Joan said. “And I think you just laughed off the poison attempts. What’ll kill an elf is a lot weaker than what will kill a demon, let alone a Chosen.”

“Joan, is this a joke?” Andreas asked.

Joan shook her head. “I’m afraid not. While the elves are far away from the front lines of the war, they’ve had plenty of issues with demons. Possibly more than humans. While only a tiny fraction of elves that try to become demonic survive the ritual, even when compared to humans, those that do tend to be a bit vicious.”

“A bit vicious,” Bauteut said. “Is that what we’re going to call it now? We’ve all heard the stories of what happens to the survivors of those rituals, Joan.”

“No, please,” Korgron said. “Tell me more. I’d love to hear what you all think about my kind.”

“Not your kind,” Joan said before cringing. “I mean, kind of your kind. Your ancestors. But not really you.” She felt her heart pounding a little faster and her nerves rising. The look Korgron was giving her made her wish she could melt in place, fortunately for all the power the Chosen of the Crown wielded, killing with a look wasn’t part of it. “Most humans who perform the ritual turn demonic and lose their soul, becoming vicious, violent, angry and murderous. How much they change externally can vary, sometimes they look demonic in appearance, while others might merely have their eyes change or grow claws, any number of small subtle shifts. Internally, though? They change dramatically. The person they once were all but fading away.”

“Is that how humans see it?” Korgron said. “Maybe you should be more careful which demons you perform the ritual with, then. So what about elves?”

“All of the races react to it differently,” Joan said. “While most elves don’t change much, if at all, physically? They certainly do change. Remember that aura I mentioned before? It becomes far stronger. Dangerous, as well. Beautiful. But their minds change, a lot. They become far more cruel. Vicious. It’s said some can read and control minds. If they think Korgron is a normal demon--”

“I am a normal demon,” Korgron said.

“You’re hardly normal,” Bauteut said. “You know what Joan means, though.”

Korgron gave a light grunt before shaking her head. “Fine. When we get closer, I’ll wear a cloak or something. If any of them try to attack me, though, I’m making no promises about what’ll happen to them.”

“You might want to do it soon,” Bauteut said before pointing ahead. “It looks like we’re not that far off.”

“What?” Joan asked before she turned to look. She didn’t see anything, though. It was--

Oh! There it was. It took her a few more moments to just make out the small stone tower rising out of the earth.

“Wait, what?” Joan asked. “That’s not supposed to be there. What even is that?”

“Looks like a watchtower,” Andreas said.

“There’s no watchtower here,” Joan said. “Or at least, there shouldn’t be.”

“Another thing that changed?” Thalgren asked. “Korgron, you might want to hide your horns.”

Korgron gave a soft sigh before flicking her wrist. A moment later a robe of dark purple materialized, enveloping her body.

“You know, with all your magic shouldn’t you be able to just hide your horns?” Bauteut asked. “An illusion might work.”

“Of course I could,” Korgron said. “But I will not travel through these lands hiding what I am. I am only wearing this cloak long enough for you lot to explain who I am so I don’t have to murder any of them.”

“So, what is proper procedure when approaching an elven watchtower?” Bauteut asked.

“I have no idea,” Joan said. “There really weren’t many of these when we came here. I don’t think we ever passed by any who didn’t know who we were.”

“I guess just keep going,” Andreas said with a shrug. “Wave if you see anyone.”

It was as good a suggestion as any, Joan supposed. However, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy as they got closer and closer to the watchtower.

This unease only grew when she was finally close enough to see up to the top and there was nothing there.

“Are watchtowers often left empty here?” Korgron asked.

“Maybe it just hasn’t been in use for a while,” Thalgren said. “Perhaps it collapsed or was torn down in Joan’s lives?”

“Maybe,” Joan said. She really couldn’t remember ever seeing it. If it was empty she supposed it wouldn’t have left much of an impression, though. Maybe she just didn’t remember it.

Even when the tower was gone, though, the feeling of unease still enveloped her. Something nagging at the corners of her mind, telling her that something was wrong. That she had forgotten something important.

“How long until we get to this town?” Korgron asked.

“Not much longer,” Joan said, before glancing back. The watchtower was now far behind them. As still and quiet as it had ever been.

Yet something was still wrong.

Something was DEFINITELY wrong. “Korgron,” Joan said.

“What?”

“Is anyone watching us right now? A spell, something?” Joan asked.

“One minute,” Korgron said before snapping her fingers and muttering a quick incantation. “No. Why?”

“Something’s wrong,” Joan said. “I don’t know what. But something.”

“Sure you’re not just being paranoid?” Zorn asked.

“I really hope so,” Joan said.

“If that isn’t the sign of ill omens,” Bauteut said softly. “Should we turn back?”

“No,” Joan said. “We’ll likely need to take this road anyway. We have four Chosen with us as well. I’m sure if we’re careful, we can deal with whatever it is. If I’m not just worrying over nothing.”

She really hoped she was.

But she’d been through too much and depended on her ‘instincts’ for too long to believe it was something so simple for a moment. Something was nagging at her mind and she had to be ready to deal with it before it exploded in her face.