The Elves had been given lands in the southwestern region; a land they could develop and call their own. Dulcinea and Keshet rode along the southern shore of the unclaimed lands in Pyrros, just beyond the confines of their territory.

“I still marvel at how beautiful this world is. We never had blue skies like this in the Underworld,” he remarked.

“It’s so wide and open, the horizon seems to be a million miles away.”

They rode quietly for a minute, then Keshet turned to her, “I’m nearly one hundred, and yet in all that time, I never met you or your clan.”

“There are over a hundred thousand of us, even after the war. I’ve never seen a map, but I know that your village was many days ride from where I grew up.” She thought for a minute, “We know each other now though.” They rode in silence for a short while. “They say that thousands of years ago, there were over a million of our people.”

“The damn Lords of Shadow have tortured us, killed us by the thousand, and have fed countless of our brothers and sisters to the ravenous Dragonkin.” He looked at her with an awkward smile, “We are meant to be a long-lived race, so naturally, we breed infrequently. The nobles want us to marry and have children.”

“Lord Keshet! Are you making an indecent proposal?” she said to the young knight with a teasing grin on her lovely face.

“What? I, no…”

“Halt! You there, do not move a muscle!” came a loud commanding voice.

Keshet peeled his eyes from his companion to see that they were surrounded. A dozen Inoan warriors were all around them, mounted on fine horses with short spears in their hands. The Inoans were the unofficial owners of the great plains of Pyrros, they were well over a million souls that roamed the plains and lived off the migrating herds that numbered in the hundreds of millions.

The lead warrior-hunter was a tall man with dark hair, long on top and the back, shaved on the sides. They all had deeply tanned skin and were nearly hairless on their bodies and faces. Some of the notable characteristics of Inoans was their use of warding tattoos and the small horns on their heads. The leader pointed his spear at them as he barked his commands.

“You elves have already taken a vast swath of our lands for yourselves, now you trespass on our hunting grounds? Explain yourselves!”

“We are just riding for pleasure, seeing the countryside,” Keshet explained.

“You mean that you’re scouting our territory, looking to annex more land for yourselves!”

“We do not mean that, and I’ll thank you to not try and put words in our mouths,” Dulcinea said angrily. “This land may be hunted by the tribes, but you do not have the right to deny us access to anything. If you continue to try and intimidate us, you’ll learn that we’re not as helpless as you think.”

“Yudif is hunting these lands till the summer, these plains are home to our people.”

“I don’t agree with your premise, but to avoid confrontation we will head back home,” Keshet said, starting to turn his horse.

“It's too late for that, we need to make an example of you.” He raised his spear to strike, but Keshet had his longsword in hand and blocked the blow before it could land. With a deft move, he was able to disarm the man in a flash. Dulcinea began to recite the words to a spell.

The men behind him made to join the fight, brandishing their weapons. One of them launched his spear, with the intent to skewer one of the elves. A strong wind swept through their ranks, casting aside the thrown weapon and the riders.

“A mage!” the first warrior screamed as he charged forward with his other spear in hand. Dulcinea effortlessly conjured a man-sized, emerald-green crystal that encased him, freezing him in mid-jump.

“He has only the air in his lungs!” she yelled to the others. “Cease your hostilities and I’ll release him.”

They picked themselves up off the grass and looked at each other, passing a few hand signals between themselves before dropping their weapons. Dulcinea gave it a good five seconds, just to make her point, then with a wave of her hand, she caused the crystal to fade and disappear.

The Inoan warrior dropped and fell to the ground gasping for air. Next, he noticed that his warriors were standing around with their weapons on the ground.

“Damn mages,” he sputtered, not yet fully recovered. “So, we can’t force you to leave, and your people still haven’t gotten the message that you are not welcome here.” He recovered his spears.

“We’ve gotten the message that Inoans are not as friendly as we were told. You have no gratitude for what we did for your people,” Keshet replied.

“What did you do for our people?”

“We were forced to come to this world at the point of a sword. We rebelled against our masters and fought alongside many of your tribes. We were sent here to kill you, but instead, we fought and died for you.” The Inoans stood still, not able to reply. As a group, they swallowed their pride, and the leader approached the elves.

“I am Gazsi, leader of this hunting party. Attacking you was my fault… I apologize.” His long black hair was tied by three separate leather thongs and reached low on his back. He had noble features, and his horns were stubby and projected nearly two inches from his high forehead. He wore nothing on his upper body and his legs were barely covered by chaps made from cowhide and boots from a lighter leather. He held his fist to his chest in salute. “You say you were not intentionally invading our lands, and I believe you. We know about all of the monsters that have appeared in the woods between two of your cities. For the most part, your people are a very honorable breed. Would you share meat at our fire? It is nearly sundown.”

“We will,” Dulcinea answered for both of them. “We should learn more about our neighbors.”

They began riding with the Inoans, positioned in the center of their train. As they rode, Keshet looked at her, marveling at the mystery that she was. She always exuded femininity, even when she was casting powerful spells and slaying monsters. He didn’t care for her speaking on both of their behalf, but he respected the strength and decisiveness that she showed. And she was beautiful. Not classically beautiful like his cousin Iovita, but in his opinion, she was perfect.

For half an hour they rode till they came to a small hunting camp. A fire was quickly started and one of the men was expertly slaughtering a bull. Huge steaks were cut and with coarse grains of salt and hot chilis added, they were put on skews and rotated slowly over the fire.

“If we knew more about you, it might help us to understand you and accept your place in lands that we used to roam.”

For an hour, with a little input from Dulcinea, Keshet gave them the history of the elves. When they had gone over their thousands of years of history, Gazsi pulled a leather pouch from his belt and a long, elk bone pipe. Withdrawing a pinch of black-brown substance, he put it in the bowl of the pipe and pressed it in with his thumb.

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“Terrible things. I see how much you all have suffered and my soul laments. I now have a clearer picture of who you are. From what you tell us, it sounds like you were a very different people before the Lords of Shadow. Your people were in tune with nature, and learned in the old ways; you were an ancient and respected race. A culture worthy of being one of the seven races created by the Old Gods.”

“Our history goes back to the early times in Xoran, to the time before the Splintering. I don’t know what that life was like, but it sounds like a time when we were living the way we were meant to. Living up to the honor of being one of the original seven races,” Dulcinea opined.

“If only there was a way to reclaim our heritage,” Keshet said.

“Perhaps there is,” Gazsi said, lighting his pipe. He took a long draw, held his breath for several seconds, and then released a small cloud of pungent smoke. “Inoans don’t necessarily believe in the Old Gods, but we are a spiritual people. We believe in the interconnection of man and nature, the flow of energy, and the melding of the spirit with the life around oneself. If you have the time, you can observe us taking a spiritual journey and you can choose to join, if you wish to do so.”

Keshet looked skeptical, and asked, “How would we begin to get back to the way we were?”

“It is not a simple thing, but we will help you. Start with this,” he said, handing the pipe to Keshet. The young Paladin looked at it, then put it to his mouth and breathed in. Warm smoke burned its way down his throat and filled his lungs. He handed the pipe to Dulcinea just before a wave of sensation rolled over him. He felt lighter, like his limbs were losing mass and becoming as light as a feather. He felt a strong hand on his upper arm as he was helped to his feet and led to a tent a few feet away. Through his haze, he could see Dulcinea being led to the tent as well. He felt hands pulling at his clothes, and a minute later he felt the light breeze of the plains washing across his bare skin. With each passing second, he became more lethargic and helpless. He saw Dulcinea unclothed, and the men helping her were also completely naked. They were brought inside the tent and helped to sit cross-legged on thick bison hides.

The small fire in the tent was venting its smoke through the roof, but the heat was making the interior as hot as an oven. Keshet could feel himself sweating from every pore, water and toxins flowed out of him and the rapid dehydration only added to the dizziness that he felt. Of the dozen Inoans in the hunting party, six were in the tent with them while the others stayed outside to stand guard. The pipe was passed around again, and without thinking, he smoked. One of the Inoans began lightly striking a hide drum with a wooden axe handle. The steady rhythm vibrated through him till it was in synch with the beating of his heart.

He wasn’t tired or sleepy, but suddenly, he couldn’t hold his eyes open. Visions came to him, surrounding him… they felt so real. They were in a forest, with trees that dwarfed any that he’d previously seen in the outer world of Xoran. Trees that were as round as Honor Keep, and stretched upward, well beyond his ability to see. The light was muted by a thick canopy of leaves overhead and only a light breeze moved the gossamer-like clothing he wore. Across a shallow gully, and standing on a blanket of fallen leaves, he saw Dulcinea. Her ivory hair was much longer than she currently wore it, and her clothing was unsubstantial like his. Her dress was suspended by a single strap over her right shoulder, her breasts were partially visible through the semi-transparent garment. The cloth of the dress looked like it was spun from silver and gold, the threads catching the muted light and shining brightly. Her ears were longer than usual, sticking several inches above a tiara fashioned from woven branches with bright green leaves and red berries. The folds of the cloth were thicker towards the bottom, providing privacy for her most private areas, though exposing much of her legs.

He realized that he was in the male version of what she was wearing, his chest exposed and only light folds of cloth covering his manhood. A woven cord circled his waist, but there was no sword there. In fact, he had no possessions on his person. Dulcinea glided to him, more graceful than he’d ever seen a person move. Her skin wasn’t the dusky, pale white that all the elves shared; in this vision, her skin had a peach-colored hue, much like the men of Kronos, though more vibrant. Her cheeks glowed, and her eyes shone like blue diamonds, she exuded life and vitality. Looking at himself, he saw that he too was changed.

All around them, the Inoans approached, wearing much the same as they had when they met them. Each man had the ghostly image of an animal that surrounded them. One had a proud stag that seemed to envelop him like armor. Another warrior bore the spirit of a bear; Gazsi was surrounded by a dire wolf and the wolf looked at them with quiet interest.

“This is the spirit world,” he explained. “Your spirit can roam here, while your body sweats in the ‘real world’. I see that your people do not have spirit animals. I pity you, but such is your fate.” The wolf looked to the left, the right, then back to the left, lifted his shaggy head, and let out a loud howl. “The great wolf spirit has spoken to other spirits and says that you must travel that way,” he said pointing to the left.

“Can you show us the way?” Dulcinea asked. Keshet thought he saw a soft glow surrounding her, and she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

“I cannot, dear lady. I would say that every man must walk the spirit path alone, to seek their own truths, but I sense that you two can travel together. May the great spirit grant you the clarity you seek,” he said before riding in the other direction with his brothers.

“You look so different,” she said to Keshet. They were standing alone in the forest, amid the sound of birds overhead, and the rustle of wind in the branches.

“So do you. Different, but still so beautiful.”

She blushed, the red in her cheeks becoming more pronounced.

Wordlessly, they started walking in the direction the wolf spirit had indicated. The same direction that deep down, they knew to be the right one. The forest somehow became even more magical as they got deeper into it. For the first time, Keshet saw faire folk. Sprites buzzed around on gossamer wings, chatting happily together as they flew. They saw flights of Pixies, lone Gnomes bustling about, they saw Satyr at work brewing hoppy drinks, and a single Dryad who was peeking out of a God Tree. Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking, though it was perhaps just minutes, they came to a clearing. Elves were flitting around, making dishes from fruits and vegetables, mushrooms and grains. Other Elves were weaving baskets from green palm fronds while still others were weaving metallic threads into the same type of ephemeral clothing that Keshet and Dulcinea were wearing. None carried weapons of any kind, and without exception, they seemed to be happy.

“Let us get closer,” Keshet said. They entered the clearing, and as they passed the Elves, none looked up or acknowledged them. “I don’t think that they can see or hear us.”

“Look!” she said pointing straight up. Far above them was an entire city, built onto the tops of the trees. Walkways were strung between the crowns of the surrounding trees, connecting the numerous domiciles there. Each of the largest trees had dozens of small cabins built into the branches. At an even higher elevation, there were larger structures, meant for gatherings or some type of industry.

“How can we get up there? I want to see how they lived,” he said.

Dulcinea calmed herself, then reached upward. Her spirit lifted from the ground and floated calmly towards the city above, much as a leaf falls but in the other direction. Understanding that as spirits, they were not bound by the laws of nature, he joined her in their ascent. In the massive platform that lay above the living quarters, there was room for men to work metal, bend wood, and work looms and mills. They walked around, watching as the beautiful elves, their faces aglow with energy and perhaps more than a hint of magic were going about their day. They found a shop where scribes were, with broad strokes, copying tomes and scrolls. Around the room were hundreds of books on every subject, though much of the writing was in old elvish and too difficult for them to read.

“I don’t know if we’re ghosts, or they are, but I sense a low level of magic on all of them,” Dulcinea said with surprise.

A young-looking elven woman with red-brown hair sat at a small table with an unrolled scroll, a glass vial of ink, and a writing quill. She began a sing-song chant in a high, musical tone. The quill lifted off the table and then, as if held by an invisible hand, dipped its point in the ink and then traveled over to the paper. The quill moved back and forth, up and down on the scroll, slowly leaving text that was artistic and perfect.

They looked around the room to see similar instances of elves performing small feats of magic. Elixirs were mixed with ingredients that seemed to come from nowhere. Hare was coiffed by a woman who was staring into a mirror and singing a low, monotone chant. Things were created and worked on, moved, restored, and packaged without the use of hands or arms.

“Your use of magic is rare amongst our people, but here it seems that everyone had at least some knowledge of sorcery,” Keshet said.

“They are happy and productive. We’ve lost the intellectual acumen that these people display in great abundance. So many artists, musicians, writers, and thinkers. We’ve been diminished by the Lords of Shadow. We’ve been made into bland imitations of these, our ancestors. Our lives are as dull and colorless as our skin and hair.”

“We must share this with the great houses. Find out if there is a way to bring back the culture that we lost while slaving in the Underworld. I will speak with my cousin and her father when we return.”

They both started to fade. Keshet took a long, last look at Dulcinea’s body, with her high, firm breasts, wide hips, and long legs. She gave him more than a passing glance as they returned to the waking world.