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Fate

Elm stretched her tired body as she listened to the birds sing outside of her room. She sat up, not moving for a few minutes. Her eyes were swollen, dry from crying herself to sleep. She had seen the ditch too and their faces haunted her as well. She had seen him go through everything, holding her hand as he did so, yet she felt like she had no right to be at his side. If she hadn’t followed that spirit and disobeyed the merchants she had been traveling with, Milo would still live his life, far from danger and pain. Yes, she would have died in Murkley Manor weeks ago, but he’d still be safe. Unscathed. Her eyes fell on her hands. Maybe she shouldn’t try to light him up anymore. Maybe he resented her now. Maybe she shouldn’t even talk to him. She looked around her room, the books in her library egging her on. The elvish language felt familiar, yet so different. She could find some faeish in it but it somehow wasn’t. Her brain was filled with ideas and theories about the how and the why, one idea replacing the other before she could even finish the thought.

“Good morning!” Elyon chimed in.

The elf brought a plate of breakfast food, fresh pastries and a cup of herbal tea. Elm couldn’t help but smile at the attention.

“So, now that my parents have allowed you to stay, I want to show you so much of my home!” she excitedly said.

Elm smiled at her energy but didn’t answer. Elyon put the plate down on Elm’s desk and sat down next to her on the bed.

“I know you’re worried for Milo, but it won’t help if you do the same as he’s doing.”

Elm sighed, not knowing what to say, unsure she could even reply. Elyon was right of course, but the girl couldn’t help feeling down. Elm let a small smile flash across her face, sending Elyon into a hyper state, talking so fast that the naëdre couldn’t register most of it. The subject was the places Elyon wanted her to see, but she couldn’t gather anything else. Elm slowly put her clothes on, nodding from time to time to Elyon’s monologue, ate and drank a bit of her breakfast and followed her outside. Elyon walked alongside her, jumping excitedly from time to time. Elm's heart got heavy as they walked by Milo’s room. The plate she had left the night before was nowhere to be seen, leaving her hopeful that she would see him walking around just like Elyon and her were about to do. This hope bloomed inside of her for a little, withering at every place Elyon showed her. The elf brought her to the town plaza, where people traded and children played, she brought her to the surrounding forest; the sunrays falling like a shower of gold in between the leaves. Finally, she brought her to an old well. It was hidden at the end of a shallow path in the far parts of the royal garden. The vegetation looked lusher than everywhere else in Avondale, mushrooms and plants growing at sizes Elm had never seen before.

“This is the heart of Avondale,” Elyon explained with stars in her eyes. “Mother comes here at night to commune with spirits.”

Her bittersweet tone made Elm raise an eyebrow.

“Isn’t it a good thing?” the naëdre asked.

“It is,” she said, “if you don’t mind your mother turning into an all-seeing goddess.” she laughed off.

Elyon’s eyes tore away from the well to look at Elm, her worried look sending her into a panic.

“But it’s alright, I don’t mind.” she blurted. “she was chosen, it’s an honor to be her child.”

Elm worried more for her as she took in the distance between her words and her tone. She was sad, incredibly so. Thoughts raced her mind to try to appease her, her eyes darting around the place to find a new subject. She settled on the well itself, the lichen in it growing strangely. Without a word, she walked up to it and kneeled down to it to observe it better. With her fingers she traced the lichen. They were grooves in those stones.

“Do you know what the well is made of?”

Elyon shrugged, emitting an ‘mhm’.

“Elderstones I think.”

Elm furrowed her eyebrows.

“Do you think it would be possible for me to clean the lichen off? I think there’s something written on there.”

Elyon’s anxiety sky-rocketed at the idea of modifying the sacred stones in any way possible.

“I’m not sure about that, why?”

“I would like to know what it means,”

Her query sent a shock down Elyon’s back.

“I don’t think you should touch it, only my mother touches it and even then, she rarely does.” she anxiously said.

Elyon’s tone took Elm away from her observation.

“I’m sorry if touching it was offensive, I didn’t know.” she apologized in a hurry, walking back Elyon.

“It’s alright, you didn’t offend anyone.”

An awkward silence filled the space between them.

“How about I show you some more?”

Elm politely nodded. Until the end of the morning, Elyon showed Elm around, always excited about her people’s history or fun little facts about their festivals and customs. Elm followed her around, taking in the beauty of Avondale and its inhabitants. Some had their skin more spotted than others and only at the borders of tree shade did it make sense, they blended into their environment almost perfectly. Some had the same white swirls on their body as the matron, although much less marked. Elyon came to explain that these markings showed how deep their connections with spirits were, the deepest one making Avondales new Elder, their new leader. If two or more people were ever in a tie, a special ceremony would be held at the well and the spirits themselves would choose the Elder. The last marking would then be the Elder’s eyes changing to white, giving them the blessing to see events from a possible future. Elyon had a bittersweet tone once more, giving Elm the urge to hug her, or at least try to reassure her as much as she could. Just as she was about to, a bell rang throughout Avondale.

“Time to come in for lunch,” said Elyon, happy to divert the subject.

Elm nodded once more and followed the elf back to the palace. Once they arrived at the dining room, Elm was relieved to see Milo patiently sitting at the table and waiting for the seats to be filled before eating his fill. He seemed thin, thinner than usual, for a moment, she saw his brother instead of him, his pleading look for Milo to flee cutting through her like a knife. When their eyes locked, she thought he’d be enraged at her sight. Yet, he smiled softly, earring a small smile back from her. The girl sat down in front of him, awkwardly avoiding his eyes. Even with Milo, the pressure of being perceived stayed, as if her every move was being studied and a single mistake would drive everyone away from her. Silently, she took out the piece of moss from her pocket and played with it underneath the table as the matron held her glass of wine high.

“Thank you for joining us today Milo, may you rest and heal quickly.”

The boy nodded and took his glass too, raising it high. Elm fumbled into doing so quickly as she saw Elyon, her sibling, and her father do it as well. In sync, they drank from their glass and started eating their lunch. All they could hear was the clinking of the silverware on the plates, no one dared to speak or even wanted to. Once the lunch was over, the patron, Elyon, and Saevel walked out, closely followed by Milo and Elm.

“Children, follow me.” said the matron as she looked at Elm and Milo, waiting for them by the door.

Elm shot a look of worry around, only finding Elyon winking at her and happily walking away as she annoyed Saevel. Elm and Milo followed the matron to the throne room where they had first seen her and the patron. It looked smaller when no one was in there, the almost transparent roof let the greened sunlight fall in a beautiful shower on the wooden floor, highlighting the details and the delicacy of the plantlike carvings and paintings on the pillars and the walls. The matron positioned herself in front of the two thrones, turned toward Elm and Milo, a look of pure determination on her face.

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“Children, it has now been two moons since our Great Spirit has sent me visions of the future of our world.” As she talked, an almost unreal mirror of water made itself from thin air, its surface smooth, like undisturbed water. “In a few months, gods and goddesses will disappear, leaving our world barren and dead.” In the mirror, the images of a dead world flashed. Bodies piling up to the sky, rivers either dry or tainted by blood, the air full of dust and the soil void of life. “A great evil is afoot, a viper, rising from its ancestors’ flesh and hungry for an uncontrollable power. A human.”

Elm was frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror when she heard gasps behind her.

“Yet, hope still prevails,” the matron smiled softly at Milo, “the spirits have chosen for us two souls, a Brave and an Erudite.” she pointed at Milo and Elm. “With help from this world’s most ancient and powerful artifacts, they shall destroy this evil before it rises.”

On the mirror flashed a map of the world, one Elm has seen before once, on a Saotie merchant ship. On it, small spots of light glowed, one in each country.

“The Sword of Kings in Dobrin, the Sun Shield in Othuria, the Circlet of Eclipses in Sheyja, and finally, the God Killer in Troburg.”

Hearing those names made a deeply uneasy feeling bloom in Elm. Those were incredibly rare and powerful artifacts, made thousands of years ago, each rarely used or lost for a reason.

“Children, will you head the call?” she asked, her voice booming throughout the now filled throne room.

A moment of silence froze everyone until Milo kneeled and bowed his head to the matron.

“The Brave shall answer.” Milo said, his voice seemingly unwavering under the weight of his words.

Elm watched until she felt the weight of everyone’s stare on her shoulders. She quickly kneeled and bowed her head too.

“The Erudite shall answer.” she said, doing her best to hide her trembling voice.

As the court clamored in joy and pride, Elm looked over at Milo. Something had changed, he was determined yet she could see it was only a facade, something for him to hold on to.

“Rise as our world’s saviors, may the spirits protect you in your quest.” she solemnly finished.

The crowd of courtesans clamored in joy as Milo and Elm rose. Milo stayed straight, his chest puffed up with pride and duty, whilst Elm looked at him with worry, her stomach sinking in like a stone in a lake. Something was wrong, deeply wrong.

“You will stay for a week more, we need all the preparation we can for such a long journey.” she softly added.

Elm’s world became too loud and overwhelming as people sang around her. Those touching her back and shoulder made her recoil. She wanted out. Now. In a mumble excuse, she hurried out the throne room, bolting to her room, her head full of sounds and colors. She slammed the door to her room open and slammed it shut once inside, her eyes were seeing too much, her ears were hearing too much, her clothes were too much. Her breathing quickened and deepened. She tried shaking her hands, humming, tapping her collarbones, but nothing calmed her down. She frantically searched for her piece of moss in her old clothes but discovered with horror that it had gone away. Her quickened breathing turned into sobs which turned into cries as she sat herself at the foot of her bed. Suddenly the room felt awfully bright and big. She closed her eyes and covered her ears as she rocked herself back and forth, trying to calm herself down as much as she could.

“Elm are you- oh Gods…”

She heard shuffling footsteps come to her, her cries must have been much louder than she thought they were, she thought. She felt familiar hands on hers and heard Milo's plea for her to look her in the eyes. With great difficulty she opened her eyes, diving into his blue ones. Little by little, she let herself be bathed in them. She let herself float inside it, unmoving and relaxing her muscles. Instinctively, she followed his breathing, slowly but surely coming back to a calmer state of mind. For a moment, the room didn’t exist anymore, only his eyes and the feeling of his hands on hers.

After what felt like an eternity, Milo broke the silence.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded.

“How do you know how to do that?” she asked.

“My brother did the same to me when I was younger, I used to have a lot of those.” a saddened look covered his face. The wound was still fresh.

Elm observed his face for a little. Guilt struck her like it hadn’t done before. She bowed her head, trying to avoid Milo’s gaze at any cost. Milo’s heart ached when he saw this, if it could ache anymore than it already was. He couldn’t imagine the guilt she felt, but as he saw it now, his family’s death was not in vain, he was destined for greatness and they had chosen their fates by choosing to save the world before he even knew it. Milo hesitantly rubbed Elm’s back, not knowing if she would let him, but to his surprise she seemed to melt under his hand, welcoming the reassuring gesture.

“Your family died because of me.” she whispered, tears welling in the corner of her already painful eyes, her throat knotting into silence.

He stopped rubbing her back. For a moment, anger took hold of his heart,he wanted to lash out, put all the guilt of the world on her shoulders, all of his pain and suffering, the hole that now sat in his chest, yet, he held up. He thought about the matron’s words; Magic itself had chosen him just as much as her for this, he had no right to be mad at her; she was just as innocent as he was. He only moved his thumb to rub her back now, trying to hold in his own tears.

“I think we should prepare separately.” he sat up, swallowing his tears before Elm could see them.

“What do you mean?” she asked unsure, she looked up to him, afraid of his answer.

“Daethie told me I should train, and you needed to study before we could start our mission.”

“Who is Daethie?”

“The matron, Avondale’s Elder.” he simply answered. “She told me to come see her once I was done.”

“Done with what?”

“Done helping you get better.”

Elm said nothing, that uneasy feeling came back to her again.

“Erudite Elm? We have the books you need to study.”

Two elves stood at the open door, carrying as many books as they could.

“We’ll see each other at the end of the week,” smiled Milo as he walked away. “Unless you need help, then I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Elm barely had time to compose herself before the elves came into her room and put down the books on her desk. In the blink of an eye, Milo was gone. She wanted to cry, scream, run, yet the book and the two elves present made her feel trapped, even Milo’s actions and words felt wrong. Could she even trust him now? With a sigh, the girl stood up and walked to her desk, her eyes glued to the volumes that had been put on it. The books had been translated to the common tongue for better understanding, yet still made with an elvish flare. The first book was about the artifacts. The ones mentioned by Daethie weren’t the only ones, far from it. There were six Elder Relics in total. The closest was the Sword of Kings, a single-handed sword which protected its user from deathly wounds. The sword had been commissioned by the first ruler of Dobrin who was trying to make himself invulnerable in battles against other clans and creating his own empire in the Order's name. The second closest actually was the Golden Scale of Saoudal, a country led by a counsel of merchants from every race living in the country, changing members whenever it was needed. The counsel received it as a gift from the dark feas of the Cursed Forest for welcoming them and taking care of them during their travels. The scale would equalize the trade by making more of the sold matter if need be. With the rapid spread of money, it became obsolete and kept locked away as a symbol of deep friendship. The one furthest south was the Sun Shield in Othuria, also called the Blazing Lands by people in Dobrin. The shield was made of an enchanted golden matter which protected its user from magic-born attacks. It was tradition to give it to the general of armies, some of them dying because of non magical attacks. It now rested as decoration on the Heads of Clans chamber, as a symbol of peace between their clans. The next one was in the kingdom of Sheyja, a country ruled by sun elves, merely tolerating the human merchants of Saotie City on their shores. It was called the Circlet of Eclipses and was said to be made by one of their own magic users, infused with such magic that it gave the wearer the ability to know a person’s true intention. It had been used for hundreds of years before the last user fell prey to paranoia and condemned the neighboring kingdom to a violent erasure, pushing his court to leave the circlet in his grave and never reach for it again, preferring to cut all ties with humans and hold the bare minimum with other races. The one in said neighboring kingdom, the Whispering Ring, was said to be lost forever. During the last war that ravaged the capital’s palace, their queen had bravely fought, yet had tragically died trying to protect the last of her own race, leaving the ring to be almost forgotten. The only thing remembered is its story, and not the effects it had, which only the gods or the dead would be able to know. The last one was found in Troburg, also called the Frozen Grounds by dobrinians, the most powerful and deadly of all relics. It had been created by a vengeful northern witch, a simple looking ice pick which had the power to kill anyone, even a god. The catch was that the most powerful the opponent was, the more of yourself you lost. The story goes that the witch who created it lost her entire body trying to kill a god, punishing her spirit to be destroyed. Since then, the harpies had kept said artifact, keeping it stuck in a block of eternal ice which never felt the warmth of the sun. As she read the last paragraph about the God Killer, a deep sense of dread filled her insides. Daethie had seen everything, even the need for a weapon as powerful as the God Killer. Once their mission was over, there would be nothing left of Milo, not even his spirit.

“Are you alright, your grace?”

Elm ticked at the name. She lifted her eyes off of the page and looked around. One of the two elves was next to her, the other stood by the door, guarding it.

“Yes, I’m alright.” she smiled softly.