Milo stepped forward into the dark forest. He could barely see his feet as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. The forest felt empty, there was no noise, no wind, only his footsteps and his breathing filled it. He thought about calling out for Elm, but the idea of the noise made him shudder. What if something got to him for that? What if it was the last thing he ever said? Every step he took, he kept it low to the ground, trying his best to not trip on anything. Fear took hold of the boy’s heart and, thinking he would die here, tears flowed down his face as he tried to keep his sobs as silent as possible. Through his blurry vision, a small spot of white light appeared in front of him. It floated at eye-level a few feet away, urging him to follow it. Milo quickly wiped away his tears, turning the blurry light into a small creature. A spirit. Milo followed it, clinging onto its light for dear life. The more he followed it, the more the sunlight broke through the thick leaves of the trees, descending to the ground like rays of gold, illuminating it. Wind barely blew through the forest, yet the sounds came back to him like a warm embrace. Birds sang, insects called out to each other, little animals ran around, unbothered by his presence. As he lifted his eyes up from the squirrels running past his feet, Milo saw Elm from a distance. He called out for her, but the word died in mouth as he saw a tall figure in front of her. It was at least a dozen inches taller than her; it had a long and thin body, its skin was of a brown almost black and its eyes had no pupils, shining like green orbs in the middle of its face. The person lifted her head, looking directly into Milo’s eyes, making him stop on the spot, her gaze piercing through him. Elm turned around, a smile stretching her lips as she saw Milo. She called him over but the person’s stare kept him frozen in place. Elm seemed to talk with the person before she took her hand and walked her over to Milo. The more she approached, the more the boy could make up what she truly looked like. Short brown dreads that stopped at the bottom of her jaw framed her face. Her nose was long and thin, as were every element of her face. She looked young, maybe around Elm and Milo’s ages. She wore dark green pants, and a belt covered in pouches. A simple sleeveless top covered her torso and brown leather shoulder armor decorated with leaves and roots designs covered her shoulders. Golden ear cuffs went all around the edge of her long pointed ears, and small and thin golden necklaces adorned her neck. She didn’t make any noise as Elm brought her over to him, as if the forest floor ate the sound of her feet hitting the floor.

“Elm, who is that?” he was still scared the woman would kill them on the spot.

“Her name is Elyon, she’s a forest elf.” she answered excitedly.

Milo couldn’t help but look into her pupil less eyes. The elf mirrored the shock on his face, her chest going up and down faster the longer she looked at either of them. The elf girl stooped to their level to meet their eyes, grabbing Elm’s arm as she did so.

“How did you enter?” she spoke slowly, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that they were even there at all.

“Your language looks like mine so I tried to ask to get in and the trees let us through.” Elm answered matter-of-factly.

Elyon looked over at Milo, looking for any other type of answer.

“I just walked in after her,” he answered truthfully.

Elyon's eyes darted to the ground, trying to take in how they got inside. They should’ve died trying if they weren’t elves, wandering in the darkness, forever lost to the forest’s powerful magic. Unless. The girl stood up quickly, a look of mixed worry and relief on her face.

“I have to take you to my parents.”

Elm nodded, causing Milo to panic. The boy took her arm and walked her out earshot from the elven girl.

“We can’t trust her, we don’t know her.”

“Yes, we can.”

“We trusted Henry and look where that got us! Even Darya trusted him!” he reminded her.

Anger stirred deep inside him, no matter how he tried to avoid it and push it back down, something in the way Elm was so suddenly trusting of Elyon made him more angry than anything. The naëdre took his hand and wrapped hers around it as she looked in his eyes.

“We’re safe here, Milo. Trust me.” she tried to reassure him through her thick accent.

He wanted to, he desperately wanted to, but with everything that had happened, could he really? He glanced over at the forest they were in. There was no getting out easily, and even if he could, where would he go? If he ever got anywhere, the wound on his stomach would get him before any healer could help. He looked back at Elm’s small brown eyes. For a moment he saw it. He saw her hope but also her pain, the very one she tried so hard to keep away from him. And it was all it took.

“Okay.” he said, not without some reluctance. “We’ll follow her.”

Elm smiled widely. She dragged Milo by his hand and motioned to Elyon that they were ready to follow her. The tall elf led them deeper into the forest. The more they walked, the more welcoming it felt. The sunlight was much less sparse, flowers bloomed beautifully and plants of emerald green grew in many places. Before long, they came across the oddest city they had ever seen. Houses were built around and sometimes inside the trees if they were large enough. Wooden bridges where vines flourished linked all houses. The sun showered the wooden shingle rooftops with its golden rays, highlighting the moss and plants that gave it some of its isolation. A great number of elves lived there, all with the same characteristics as Elyon, or even sported lighter spots on their bodies like Elm had. Some had white swirls covering their bodies, others didn’t or barely had any. Children laughed and played around, while people talked and exchanged their creations or their cooking for something else. Before anyone could spot them, Elyon showed them to a small path, overgrown with plants, which seemed to lead around the main areas of the city. After a few minutes, the elf stopped at the foot of an enormous tree trunk from which windows had been carved out. She grabbed the thick ivy that covered the trunk and effortlessly climbed up the nearest window, which looked to be around ten feet above ground. The elf climbed up inside and then signaled for Elm and Milo to climb as well. The girl climbed first, somehow filled with excitement, whilst Milo stayed back, looking up at the window. Climbing wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, far from that, it was the pain in his stomach that made him dread the ascension. His wound had seemed to have closed over their days in the forest, yet he still felt like it could open at any moment. As Elm finally got to the window and climbed inside, he gripped the ivy. His heart was beating hard, and in an exhale to bring himself some courage, he climbed it. His fingers hurt as he tried to grip onto it, he felt like his feet were going to slip at any moment, and the deep uneasy feeling of fear in him grew uncomfortably large in his stomach. Just as he reached the window, his foot slipped, his body falling for a second before a hand gripped his wrist tight. The boy looked up to a pair of pupil less green eyes.

“Wouldn’t want to lose you so quickly.” she smiled.

She brought him inside in a last pull. He observed the room after he stood up. It was simple in its decoration, wood carved to look like vines and ivy, a library full of books, a small and slightly decorated bed, a clean desk that had lived a lot of stories, and a closet carved from the trunk of the tree they were in. Before Elyon could say anything, a boy barged into the room. He was younger than any of them, his skin had spots as dark as Elyon’s skin but the rest of it was lighter. He wore clothing just as simple as her, only a necklace or two hung around his neck. His eyes widened at the sight of Elm and Milo, he took in a sharp breath and was about to speak when Elyon ran over to him and put her hand on his mouth.

“Say anything to our parents and I’ll tell them you eat cake in your room at night.”

The boy squinted his eyes, boring his deep green pupil less orbs into hers, not making a sound as she took off her hand. The boy turned around and slowly closed the door, leaving it open ever-so-slightly on his way out.

“Close the door, you idiot!” she shouted, closing it loudly.

She sighed before turning back around the teenagers.

“I’m sorry, this was my little sibling, Saevel. He’s annoying.”

“I understand,” Elm chuckled, “I have a few of them at home.”

Milo stayed silent as Elyon searched around her room for cloaks for them to wear, a deep anger boiling in his blood.

“I will introduce you to my parents, but for that I need you to get to the throne room. Foreigners aren’t exactly allowed in here.”

After a few minutes, she finally found cloaks and wrapped them around Elm and Milo, making sure that their faces were hidden.

“Follow me,” she said as she opened the door.

Elyon strolled down the corridors closely followed by Elm and Milo. Every room and hallway was made in the same taste. The walls were wood; the decorations imitated flowers and plants, or even trees, and even some parts were made of a golden metal. After a few rooms and even wooden bridges, which gave them an astounding view of the whole of Avondale, they finally arrived at their destination. In front of them stood a heavy wooden door, masterfully carved with scenes of elvish leisure time and spirits dancing amongst the trees. Elyon signaled them to stay behind before she pushed the doors open. Silence fell on the throne room as she walked in. The courtesans parted to let her through, bowing to her as she walked by. Their clothes were all made of fine materials, gold, jewels, light layers of see-through fabric to make them opaque, giving them a surreal flow and feel. At the end of their path of bows sat their regents. On the left throne sat the patron, his skin light and his dark hair flowing down his shoulders and back, looking like they were silk threads. The matron on the right wore a dress made of thicker and simpler fabrics. Her jewelry was intricate, made of gold and bronze, it resembled extremely accurate flowers and plants, and on her brow, like the patron had, she supported a golden crown that looked surreal in its confection. As he looked into the room, Milo couldn’t help but notice something different about the matron. She wore no necklaces, only her skin was covered in white glowing swirls. Her eyes, unlike the green that everyone else seemed to have, glowed with a white light.

“My dear parents, may I speak with you alone?” Elyon spoke.

“We are in the middle of a discussion, we cannot-”

“Leave,” said the matron as she stood up.

The court walked out, bowing one last time to their regents before closing the door behind them, leaving Elyon, Elm and Milo having sneaked in, and her parents alone. The girl took a deep breath before turning to the matron.

“I have found them.” she beamed.

The patron looked at the two cloaked figures.

“How dare you bring outsiders in, Elyon? You know the price for such a crime!” he shouted out of worry for his daughter.

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“I did not bring them in, they walked in.”

“Walked in? They could not have walked in, the forest protects us.” he reassured himself.

“Yet, they did.” she insisted.

The patron was about to speak again but something in his daughter’s look stopped him. Could they be..? He turned around to his partner, wondering if with her wise eyes, she could see it too. The matron stood up, her long white twists seemed to float around her as she walked down the stairs to meet Elm and Milo. She circled around them, gazing at them. When her eyes met his, Milo couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was looking into his soul and his fate. It felt intrusive yet, her gaze was so gentle, he couldn’t be mad about it for long.

“Give them a room to sleep in, they will be our guests.” she spoke, her voice sounding like crystal.

Guards came from nowhere and accompanied Elm and Milo to rooms a little further down the halls and bridges of Avondale. Each of them got a separate room; Milo sat in silence for a moment, while Elm excitedly looked around and took it upon herself to read the elvish texts that filled the small library in her chambers. Milo looked at the bed he was sitting on. It was less simple than Elyon’s, the hemp duvet had a leaf pattern, and the bed’s canopy had an intricate ivy design carved out of it, some parts covered in a gold-like metal. He looked around at the room, going over every little detail, painfully trying to keep the memory at bay. His eyes got stuck in the books for a while, his mind slowly unfocusing from it to dive deep into his pain. He wished he could scream, cry, break things, let the emotion out by any means yet he couldn’t; there was only a deafening numbness going through him, invading him like a disease, from the bottom of his feet to the confines of his brain. In this, and the tightness of his skin on his collarbones, he found refuge in the painful groan of his stomach, how it tightened around nothing, how his ribs felt like they were sucked into his stomach. He didn’t react as a man walked in, healer’s tools at hand, and pulled a chair to sit in front of him. The elf asked questions the boy barely heard and answered at random with ‘mhm'’’s. He lifted his shirt and from the corner of his eyes, he saw a soft golden light emit from the man’s hands and felt the wound tighten until it left a small scar. The man packed up his things and talked about lunch, he asked a question and Milo could only raise his shoulders in response. The man left without saying another word, leaving Milo alone in his room. The boy rubbed the duvet, feeling the roughness of the hemp fabric against his hand. In a second, tiredness and exhaustion fell on him like an anvil. With heavy movements, he took off his bloody and dirty shirt, he took off his pants full of dirt and his worn-out shoes, and finally took off his compressing garment. The garment had dug grooves into his sides and made his muscle sore as he could finally move them freely. He stretched a little before slipping into the bed, letting its warmth cuddle him into a deep sleep.

“I’m afraid he refused to eat this noon, matron.” said the elvish healer to the glowing woman.

She furrowed her brows as Elm’s heart tightened at the news. They had been sitting at the lunch table for ten minutes now and Milo had shown no interest in coming over for food. Elyon looked at the naëdre girl in worry.

“I’m sure he’ll get better if we leave him some time.” she tried to reassure her, “You’ve both been through a lot,”

Elm lowered her head, now toying with the food on her plate.

“I know you want to help him, my child, but he needs some time alone,” said the matron.

“I understand,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Lunch was silent as Elm ate slowly to not upset the muscles around her stomach. She had been hungry before, almost starving, and she knew better than to stuff her face with food right away. She knew the pain of the muscles around her ribs expanding further than they could after days of being so tight. After she was done eating, she excused herself from the table and asked if she could have a plate for Milo. The matron nodded, and a servant made one for her. She stopped her as she walked away, explaining that she’d deliver it herself. So, she took the plate and brought it to Milo’s room. Her heart got heavier as she raised her hand to knock on the door. For a second, she wondered if she even had the right to do so; he had lost everything because of her. She had followed a spirit and lost the merchants she was traveling with and almost got kidnapped because of it. She shook the thoughts away and knocked on the door.

“I’m leaving your food at the door,” she let out as loud as she could, hoping he could hear her. “My room is at the end of the hallway if you need to talk,” she added lower.

She put the plate down and stood next to it for a moment, hoping he would open it and talk to her, but he didn’t. Silence shrouded the hallway, leaving her alone with her guilt as she asked herself why he would even talk to her ever again. She rushed into her room, fearing someone would see the tears flowing down her face.

Night had fallen over Avondale as Milo awoke. He stretched his weak body and sat up, a wave of numbness quickly covering his sadness. He would have preferred his sleep dreamless, yet the rotten faces of his mother and brother still haunted them. His dreams had been the same for days, but this time, a figure stood in the back, bringing him anger and a taste for revenge he had never felt before. The man was strong, tall and wide, his body covered in rippling muscles which were partly covered in an old and battered armor. His skin was a deep red, almost brown, his yellow eyes glowed like two suns in the middle of his sharply featured face, a fleshy tail swayed impatiently behind him, the tip was so sharp Milo was convinced it would slice anyone in half if it had the chance. Atop his head, two horns curled around themselves like ram horns, decorating him like a crown stained in blood. A smell of blood and sweat accompanied him. Milo should’ve been scared, crying, yet he welcomed the presence in his dream like a long-lost parent. As if he had always been there with him. The boy looked around the dim room, trying to keep himself from drifting away in his thoughts. A glint caught his attention by the desk. A golden plate covered in food sat there, it looked like it had been there for a few hours at the very least, an almost extinguished candle next to it. On the chair that was facing his way, elvish clothes had been put, and underneath the chair sat elvish boots that seemed to be around the same size as the shoes he already had. Milo wrapped the duvet around his body, took the candle and lit up the candelabras around the room with it, making his surroundings much more visible. Next to his clothes was a basin full of clean water and a rag. He smiled as he approached it, finally able to clean himself after days of running away. Once he did, he put on the elvish clothes that seemed to magically fit him in a way that made his breast almost invisible. Some joy bloomed inside of him as he looked down and could see an almost flat chest, and rubbed it to make sure it was real. He put on the boots and left the plate alone as he took a candle off of a candelabra and exited his room. The hallway was empty but comfortably silent as he walked around in it. Milo walked for a long time, randomly going through the hallways, not knowing where to go or when his walk would calm him down from the uneasy feelings his dream had given him. After what felt like half an hour, he found himself in what looked to be gardens. They were like organized chaos, plants growing beautifully next to each other, mixing tall bushes and flowers, lawns made of clover and crocus and paths made of dirt and wood slates. From the darkness in the far back of the garden, a dim white glow enlightened the plants and flowers around it. Curiosity took over his anxiousness and he slowly walked to the light. The more he did, the less his candle was useful, soon glowing dimmer than the light itself. As he looked around, Milo thought he saw the plants themselves emitting the light. In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a dozen fireflies fly around, as he turned his head around, he stopped. Spirits. Much bigger and brighter than the ones he had seen at the elder stones, floated around, sometimes stopping, sometimes going somewhere, but all seemed to be at home in this part of the garden. Milo started walking again, now looking around to the dozens of spirits around him. He felt calm, like his pain had subsided for the time being, leaving him in a relaxing peacefulness. At the turn of his path, the sight before him almost took his breath away. The forest itself glowed, the flowers and leaves glowed by themselves, hundreds of spirits floated around the place, in the middle of it all was an old well made out of elderstones, surrounded by a circular grass patch. Next to the well, Avondale’s matron stood, looking into it. She glowed just like a spirit would, for a moment, Milo could’ve sworn he was seeing Gaelin again.

“Come, war-bringer.” she called him.

Milo couldn’t help but come to her. He blew out his candle and stood next to her, not knowing what to say or even if he should say anything, her presence intimidating him.

“This is a geyser.” she explained as she looked around, “Spirits have communed and lived here since this world was created. Some are as old as time, others are even younger than you.” She turned around to Milo, “Do you know where those spirits come from?”

“Us?” he answered, very unsure.

“That’s a common misconception, we are but vessels for them. The most powerful of them created all creatures on this earth, Drylic.”

Milo looked at her confused.

“Who created spirits then?”

“Magic.” she answered, “Magic is the very fabric of all beings and things. It is much greater and stronger than any mortal or god can handle.”

Milo still looked at her confused, his knowledge of the world now turned on its head.

“Look into the well.” she said.

Milo bent over and looked into the dark waters of the well. He could see the matron, him, the glowing forest, and behind him, his brother, his mother, and his father, looking at him with soft smiles. Milo’s face broke into an ugly cry at their sight. The matron rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

“They are proud of you.” she noted.

The more he cried, the more his pain turned into anger, a need for revenge that burned in the deepest parts of him. For a moment, a fourth person appeared in the back, the smell of blood and sweat polluting the air around him. The matron smiled at his presence. She turned around to Milo, taking his chin in her hand and turning his head towards her, welcoming his blue gaze into her white pupil-less one.

“You have much to learn and to do Milo, they depend on you.”

Milo looked at her in confusion.

“The choice you made when you saved Elm, has brought a war upon the world.”

“But I- I didn’t-”

“Magic works in chaotic ways.” she explained. “It chooses its pawns with no regard for them.”

“I just lost my family and you want to fight for the very thing that made me choose their deaths? That’s unfair! I never even got a say in all of this! I’ve been running away for days, I’ve been stabbed and tortured, I’ve even stabbed people myself! And I’m supposed to happily say ‘yes’ for more of that?!” he shouted.

Milo walked away from the matron, determined to go back to his room, take his belongings and go anywhere else. He could settle in a stupid town and work like a dog if he had to.

“He has shown you his face tonight, hasn’t he?”

Milo stopped dead in his tracks, a cold sweat running down his back.

“He scares you and with reason. His name is Ulvarath, Father of demons and God of War.”

The boy slowly turned around back to her, the god’s face coming back to him.

“He has chosen your family to serve him. Whether or not you want it, you will.”

“I am human, gods don’t choose us,” he replied.

The matron’s silence made him uncomfortable.

“Are you sure of your answer?” she asked.

Milo’s reply died in his throat. She couldn’t possibly mean that he was an eastern witch, could she? His mind suddenly raced to his family’s occupations. His brother and uncle in the military, his mother learning to fight and, with reluctance, staying behind to watch over her children, even his own dreams of traveling and fighting the Order.

“You are 15, in a year you’ll have to choose either to serve him or abandon magic and turn human. He’ll try anything to have you by then.”

The confusion in his eyes turned into betrayal. At the sight of it, the matron walked up to him and kneeled to get to his level, resting once more her hands on his shoulders.

“Your mother did her best to protect you in a town full of crows.”

Milo looked in her pupil less eyes, holding on to her words for dear life, trying not to drown into his own emotions.

“Viper is playing god, and soon he’ll either succeed and destroy this world, or he’ll die by your hand trying to do so.”

Milo bowed his head, fighting the tears. The matron took him gently by the chin and lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting her eerie ones.

“You should have died trying to walk into our forest, but the spirits have guided you through our protections. They chose you and Elm for a reason, and I believe they are right to have done so.” a soft smile stretched her lips. “You have the power to do great things. Don’t leave us to die.”

Milo’s shoulders were heavy as the weight of the world rested on them. His thoughts of running away long gone as he remembered the faces of his loved ones in the well. They looked so proud, so happy, would they resent him if he didn’t do this? Would they rest in hate for him until the end of time? When he looked at the matron, all he could see was the goddess Elm and he had seen at Jesse’s house, she looked ethereal, unreal, like sent by the gods themselves. If magic, the fabric of their world, had chosen him, he couldn’t refuse, could he?