Elm looked down at her ankle as they rode away from Avondale. It was red and itchy, like something was settling inside of it, she could feel it down to her bones. She lifted her eyes to look around. Milo was sitting on his own horse, as were the few elvish guards that had followed them. Daethie said they were there for protection, yet something didn’t feel right, but again, nothing did when it came to Avondale. They rode for the rest of the day, barely stopping for lunch and then fully stopped only when the sun dove behind the horizon. From what she had guessed, their destination would be Zaka, then Saotie City, and then a boat to Othuria to find the first artifact, the Sun Shield. Once the sun was about to set, the guards made a camp, allowing them to rest for the night. As she pulled her blanket and fell asleep, a sudden pain coursed through her leg. The girl quickly sat up, letting out a yelp, and examined her ankle, almost cursing under her breath. Horror seeped in deep as she saw the glowing sigils on her ankle. It couldn’t be happening, she wouldn’t dare do this, treat them like animals, like lambs to be slaughtered. Elm clawed at her ankle, trying to make it go away by any means possible. Her cries woke up Milo who had fallen asleep a few minutes before her. In a flash, he ran up to her, then froze as he saw the sigils on her ankle. He had hoped Daethie wouldn’t have done the same with her, but it was a naive wish, of course she would, after all, she had tried to get him to run away. Elm’s teary eyes met Milo’s, wordlessly pleading for help. All he could do was to embrace her, trying to reassure her. Her heart sank deeper and her cries turned to sobs as she finally understood it was real, and it would stay for a while. The group rode for a few days, every night, Elm would stay awake, the light of the sigils on her ankle sinking deeper into her skin like shackles. During the day, she would often fall asleep on her horse, catching herself at the last minute. After around a week, an idea floated in her head, she knew it was stupid, but it was worth trying. Once more, she stayed awake, this time her gaze stuck on Milo’s sleeping form. Unlike her, he seemed accustomed to it. A few nights back, she had seen the familiar glow from underneath his vambraces, yet he hadn’t tried to run. She had often seen cows or other farm animals like goats and sheep wearing those sigils on their croup or neck, but never had she seen it on fully humanoid races. She looked around, the guards all seemed to be asleep, comforting themselves in the slowly dying campfire. She looked up at the sky, it was free of clouds and the stars shone brightly, the waxing moon hanging in there as if it sat on a throne. Maybe Amara was watching them, maybe she’d bless her in her desperate attempt. Elm took a deep breath and ran off. For the first time in weeks she felt free, running made her feel like she was flying, the wind blew in her hair, the cold night soothed her aching bones. Just as she was about to cry from the bubbles of happiness coming up her throat, she violently fell to the ground. She had barely run several yards before the sigils took effect. Her ankle was stuck, as if tethered to the campsite by an invisible chain. She cried of despair as she tried to pull her ankle further, it stayed put, unmoving. She cried until her eyes dried out, empty of anything that could offer her relief. She cursed at the sigil, at Avondale, at Henry, at herself. Her eyes lingered on the dried lands between Soudal and Dobrin. She wished she could feel the sand under her bare feet, walk away and lose herself in the desert, letting the wind take her away while the sand covered her from head to toe. After a little while, she walked back to camp, her will to fly away not entirely destroyed, but covered under a heavy blanket of doom. Milo observed her silently as she went back to her sleeping bag. He knew. He had tried it before, on their first night outside of Avondale. He knew it was no use, not while the spell still tethered them to the guards. They traveled again for a few days before they finally encountered their first town, Qaharish. It was small, the houses were either made of a mix of dried dirt and hay, or plain stones, either way showed a great knowledge in construction due to their impressive arches and domes. The streets were rather calm if you didn't count the group of phsygian ttacs that had arrived a few days earlier, still resting in the taverns. Milo was used to seeing merchants and nomads but only a handful of people were human, most of the inhabitants were either cûs or orcs. Some orcs were busy repairing or constructing houses, while most cûs looked to be busy preparing the coming harvest and taking care of camels and horses. As the group quietly rode their horses into town, people from all around gave them dirty looks. The guards stopped their horses in front of a tavern and dismounted. Milo and Elm did the same, both clearly uncomfortable with the looks they were getting. One guard gave the horses to a cû who brought them to the stables.

“I guess we’re resting here for a bit then.” mumbled Milo under his breath.

They entered the tavern and all clamor died as they did so. The silence was heavy but the guards walked confidently to the barkeep.

“We need food and shelter.” one of them said as he put down a heavy pouch of gold pieces on the counter.

The barkeep squinted his eyes at the guard, keeping his posture straight and confident. His tail swung around, betraying his cool exterior.

“A bag of rice and a bag of lentilles. You can stay two days.” he said coldly.

“Water?” asked the guards with a certain disdain.

“Town’s fountain.” he deigned to answer.

The elf nodded and the cû grabbed the gold pieces, taking four or five out and throwing the bag back to the elf.

“I don’t steal customers’ money.”

The elf took the bag and signaled to one of the others to stay and take care of the food, the rest followed him to the town’s fountain. Elm and Milo followed, feeling like dogs on leashes, barely looking up from the ground to meet the stares of the people around them.

“Sami, what are you looking at?”

The young cû turned around to his coworker.

“Sorry, there’s new people in town.”

“Hm.” The orc looked at the odd group filling up their gourds at the fountain. “Better to not mess with that.”

The cû tried to get his attention back to the roof he was working on but his mind still wondered. Forest elves were rarely seen and when they did, they usually weren’t nice or even brought trouble. Sami worked for the remainder of the day. He was excited about it, his neighbor’s son had married and he and his spouse needed a roof now, and so, the town made them one, as they had done with all other families for generations. The sun was about to set when the young cû came home to his father. He was the only one who hadn’t married yet, he was four years away from being an adult and therefore able to marry, and had no real interest in the girls of the town.

“How was your day?” asked his father as he walked behind the bar to fix himself a soft drink.

“Construction as always,” he answered.

Silence installed himself between the both of them as they watched their peaceful customers eat and drink their fill. The Psygian ttacs were less rowdy than usual, even their children were calm today. The orcs and cûs were having small talks but one group was dead silent. The elves ate lively but the two teenagers with them barely touched their food. They didn’t speak and slouched over like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“Don’t even think about it.” said his father before he could let any word come out of his open mouth. “Elves are nothing but trouble.”

Sami hid his sigh. His father was right of course, but it didn’t take away his curiosity. The boy looked at him, his blue eyes filled with some kind of forbidden hope. He soon looked back at his food, afraid the elves would see him. Sami tried to forget about them for the rest of the evening. He served himself a plate of food while his father took care of the tavern. Once he was done, he went to their private rooms and cleaned his face, taking great care of his newly grown horns. At only 16, they weren’t long, but he took a lot of pride in them, knowing they meant he would soon be considered an adult amongst his peers. Of course, the orcs he worked with already treated him like one, but the way his father watched over him made him feel like a child. He sighed as he took off his clothes and slipped into his bed, finally relaxing his muscle after an entire day of work. The cû soon asleep, his heavy snoring echoing throughout the halls. After a lively dream, he woke up, his stomach growling at him for some food. With sleepy eyes and stiff muscles, the young cû put some clothes on and shuffled down the hallways to fix himself a plate. As he did so, he realized silence had taken over the tavern, he felt some relief knowing the patrons were fast asleep and none would witness his midnight snacking.

“I’m sorry Elm, it’s my fault…”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I got us into that forest.”

Sami stopped dead in his tracks, his hand hovering over the door handle.

“The least I can do is try to break these sigils.”

A light came from underneath the door, followed by surprised screams. In the blink of an eye, Sami opened the door, ready to help anyone who was standing behind it. He came face to face with the two teenagers he had seen earlier in the day, both sprawled on the floor, slowly coming back from the shock. Before any word could come out of his mouth, his eyes caught the familiar glow of the cattle’s sigils. A deep anger rose from within him, one he had rarely felt before. Elm helped Milo up as soon as she could, anxiously waiting to know where the anger on the cû’s face would go. Instead of storming off or yelling, he calmed down, his traits softening as he casually walked to the leftovers and served himself a plate.

“Elves are nothing but trouble,” he said as he sat down.

Sami nodded to invite them in, knowing they probably had barely eaten at dinner. Warely, Milo and Elm sat at the table, both trying to hide their sigil’s glow.

“Do you know how we can get these off?” Elm asked

“No.” he said as he finished his bite, “but I bet the farmers in Ghamale know. They’re the only ones to use sigils like that here.”

An awkward silence settled in, making Sami uncomfortable having these two strangers watching him eat.

“I know it’s not my business,” he tried to break the silence, “but why are you with these guys anyways?”

A veil of sadness covered both of their faces.

“They trained us and sent us to ‘save the world’” explained Elm, not without a smidge of bitterness in her voice.

“Daethie wasn’t wrong, Henry did-”

“It’s impossible.” she snapped.

Milo wanted to argue back but stopped himself. He had never seen such a look in Elm’s eyes. She was determined but also angry, and anger so deep he could very well be scared of it if she talked any firmer.

“I can go away if that’s better for you two,” Sami jumped in.

“No,” Elm let out, more desperately than she would have liked to, catching the boys off guard. She sighed as she turned to Sami, propping herself comfortably on the table. “Milo saved me from crows in Salnas and they’ve been chasing us since. Well, me, rather.”

“There’s still crows in Dobrin? I thought the Queen had killed all of them.”

“No.” Elm answered, “They’re different now.”

“My neighbor was one.” Milo cut in, “we used to watch over his children and he tried to kill us and my brother.”

Sami stopped as he was about to put the food in his mouth. Crows had always been this well-established society of nobles in Alvoort, not simple neighbors. For a moment he panicked as he tried to put himself in Milo’s shoes.

“A man we trusted was supposed to take us somewhere safe but he was not.” Elm explained further. “We escaped to Avondale and they sent us on our ‘sacred mission’”.

Sami had stopped eating, giving them his full attention. He saw the look they had, tired beyond words. He sat up and searched around the kitchen for a small snack and found some cookies his father had baked the day prior. He sat back down, putting the plate full of them in front of them. Milo hesitantly took one and ate it slowly.

“I take it that Henry is the villain of your story?”

Milo nodded shyly, causing Elm to try and keep her sigh to herself.

“Henry is human, he-” she stopped, thinking of a way to put it together without waking the painful memories, “asked us a way to use magic.”

“Humans can’t use magic.”

“Exactly,” she replied, “but Avondale’s matron and Milo are convinced he can and will do it to destroy the spirit god and our world.”

“Avondale elves believe in Drylic?” he asked, bewildered.

Elm nodded back, happy to find someone who could share her sentiments.

“They believe that we are the only ones who can stop him from learning magic and killing him before he kills Drylic.”

“They’re sending you to your deaths,” he realized.

Suddenly, his father’s words didn’t matter anymore. He saw the look on their faces and he knew he had to help them. They had no choice but to die this way if he didn’t do anything. They spent almost an hour talking about each other and exchanging stories. Sami was relieved as he saw both of their expressions softened along the conversation, their minds eased off of their current situation. They spoke until all of them yawned and their eyes teared up. Sami put the plates in the sink as he finished the conversation, soon accompanying them to the door.

“I wish we had met each other differently. Maybe then we’d have more time.” Milo sadly added once they passed the door.

“Me too.” Sami answered.

The young cû let a small smile stretch his lips before he left the two to get back to bed. He spent the night turning around in his sleep, thinking about a way he could help them, a way that wouldn’t involve running away or hurting his father. It’s only on the verge of falling asleep that he found it. The next morning, he woke up groggy, his lack of sleep easily visible under his eyes.

“Orok already asked me where you were today, you might need to eat faster.” said his dad as he came back from the barback.

The young cû nodded, shoving his barley porridge in his mouth. Not long after, he went to work quickly, almost running in the streets to the construction site where his coworkers had already started their day.

“You’re late Sami,” said his boss.

“I know Orok, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again," he said as he stretched and prepared to climb the walls to help finish the roof.

“You said that the last five times too.”

The teen smiled and immediately started working. Soon came his mid-day break, he often enjoyed it in the shade, resting, avoiding the hottest hours of the day. This time, Sami didn’t join, he sat away from the rest of them and looked at the horizon ahead of him, the heat bending the air above ground.

“What’s going on boy?” asked the orc as he sat next to the young cû.

“I value your teaching but I'd like to learn more,” he said.

“You want to learn from someone else.”

The teen turned around at the tinge of sadness in the orc’s voice. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his tears from him.

“Orok? Are you-”

“I’m so glad it’s finally happening!” he exclaimed as his sadness turned into pure happiness. “I’ll talk to your father tonight.”

The orc walked away, drying his happy tears. Sami couldn’t help but smile wide. He had learned a lot from Orok. Orcs, especially in Saoudal, had their wisdom rooted in construction and generally housing. If you ever wanted to know how to protect your home, build a family and relationships, and how to keep those, you went to the orcs. If you wanted to help out or find a job that was easy to purvey, orcs were the solution. Despite some of them being known as the best stonemasons of the country, they lacked the finesse and agility other races had. Sami, before his horn started to grow, usually slipped between walls or underground to help them with foundations or checking the integrity of the house. Now that he had horns, he couldn’t wait until they would grow big and strong enough for him to push the heavy loads up or simply move them out of the way when his coworkers couldn’t. Over the last year he had seen one or two orcs of his age travel the country, searching for greater wisdom and greater horizons. If they were lucky, they would become the next masters in their field, spreading their wisdom to others, or find love and start a family, using their own knowledge to build a house for themselves. Sami spent the rest of the day working, hoping his father would let him travel. When he came back home, his father wasn’t there despite the already seated customers. The young cû searched for him around their private quarters until he heard his voice coming from his room.

“But he’s asked for it, Marwan.”

“I said no, he’s a cû, we don’t travel around the world like that.”

“You sent him to me when your wife died, you knew this would happen!”

“He’s a child, Orok!”

“He’s sixteen, older than my children when they went away.”

A heavy silence flooded the room, the sounds of customers coming in floated up the hallway. Sami opened the door to see Orok looking at his father who looked like he was about to cry.

“There’s customers at the bar dad.” he softly said.

Marwan nodded and without so much as a glance at Orok, walked to the bar, leaving his son and the orc alone.

“He loves you so much, it’s going to take a bit of time.” Orok chuckled dryly.

“I don’t have time…” Sami mumbled under his breath.