It began with fire, and it would end with fire.

But for the time being, the woman was still alone inside the meditation chamber, murmuring prayers over the soft shifting of the white sands that poured from the ceiling in a dry waterfall. The sands collected around her sitting, robed figure, only to fall towards the centre of the room, where a round drain hole greedily drank it, making the silt disappear into the hidden blackness.

The woman sat on the edge of the hole, and if the sands shifted just a few inches forward, she would also fall into the darkness. She held her arms up, palms open wide as if to receive an offer, the rays of sunlight that came from above played with her golden hair and sable skin as they both ran down her grey robes and disappeared into the hole.

Then, a change.

The black marble walls opened, the heavy masonry blocks shifting to reveal an entrance and a tall bald man. He wore similar robes but his were a pure white, lined black and gold. He confidently strode forward, even if the gauzes covering the empty orbs where his eyes used to be betrayed that he was either used to the room, or he had other ways to see.

He walked on naked feet across the room, leaving no footprints on the soft white sand. When he reached the woman he stood opposite her on the other side of the shifting hole.

“It is almost time,” he addressed her in a gravel voce.

She muttered the last few lines of prayer and gently opened her silvery eyes, fixating the newcomer with a smile.

“I am ready,” she said in a smooth voice.

“Perhaps a tad too ready,” he replied, shaking his head. He sat in front of her, letting echoes of the silt patch over the silence between the two. “I still do not understand you,” he said at the end.

“With all due respect,” the woman said holding up one hand, “I did not come here to look for your understanding.”

“I know—” he cut her short. “Still, please… think about it. There is no much time left. As a Sunseeker, it is in my power to call all this a misunderstanding. You have no need to pass through the Trial of Gold, Kishirra. We may as well just ask you to pass through the Trial of Fire, and we would be content. Nobody asks for that type of challenge when ordaining a new Knight, even one such as your… kind.” He gestured towards her ears, peeking through her gilded mane. They were slightly longer than a human woman’s and pointed like arrowheads.

In fact, Kishirra might have passed as a normal woman only for a very brief time. There was something about her, past the shape of her ears, which betrayed her true origin. She was taller, taller than the Sunseeker himself, even if sitting like that their faces were almost level. Her strong shoulders spoke of a hidden martial might, and yet the grace with which she sat almost perfectly still could have made her pass for some mad sculptor’s final masterpiece, with her round silvery eyes and the full curve of her lips. Even dressed in those featureless grey robes like a common attendant, she was so effortlessly gorgeous that she would have attracted every gaze even in a ballroom.

Kishirra’s sable hands reached for her hair and shifted her locks so that the tips of her ears peeked out a little more from her mane.

“Nobody asked but me, if I recall correctly,” she gently reminded her superior.

The Sunseeker sighed.

“The whole Council respects your decision. And there are those who rejoiced, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” she agreed with a thin smile. Those who would be delighted to see one of her kind destroyed by the Trial, her lack of faith exposed, the mistake she represented erased from the world.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“But I am not one of those. I applauded your decision, Kishirra. You are the first of your kind to embrace the Faith, and yet—”

The smile on Kishirra’s face turned a little kinder as the Sunseeker searched for the right words. It was absurd for someone like her, not even properly Ordained, to be considered a peer to the Sunseeker, someone who could stand in the presence of Ansàrra herself — and not burn to cinders.

“I do not understand. Not yet. I want to,” he said at last, picking up a handful of sand and letting it sift through his fingers. “And if at all possible change your mind about the Trial. I can make an exception. The Council will be receptive to my decision, we can still make you just pass through the Trial of Fire, like any other Knight.”

Kishirra nodded gently, her golden locks shifting on her shoulders.

“I can help with at least part of that task. But I am firm in my decision to go through the Trial of Gold.”

“Kishirra, it’s something—” the Sunseeker’s lips curled into a frown. “It is something we hold against the traitors of the Faith. Even if you were to pass through it, it is going to be—” he held his breath, his fingertips trembling as he pictured what the Trial entailed. “Excruciating.”

“A Knight’s due is to hold pain in contempt,” Kishirra retorted. “My Faith would not be worth a ray of sunlight if I were to fold over something as trivial.”

“It is not any trivial pain, Kishirra.”

“With all due respect, master,” she repeated, and this time her tone was a little less smooth, “I am not trying to justify my faith before mortal men.”

“Of course you are not,” the Sunseeker conceded with a grumble. “Very well. But I still want to understand. I have asked about you, Kishirra, but I certainly do not understand the whole story. And it puzzles me.”

“How so?”

“We are born of the dark, and into the dark we go. Dust upon dust calls, and only echoes remain,” he whispered picking up another handful of sand, throwing it into the sifting whirlpool. “And if we earn our keep, we can hope for the light of Ansàrra to shine after our death, we can hope to sit at the bottom of her Her throne when the curtain closes. That is for us who are mortal.” He paused, regarding the Elf. “But for your kind it is different, is it not? I have met some of your race during my travels.”

Kishirra’s grin turned a bit sheepish.

“I gather it must not have been a pleasant encounter.”

“Nay, it was not!” The Sunseeker agreed with a dark chuckle. “Hence, when I heard that an Elf, an immortal, ever-enduring Elf had embraced Faith I believed it was nothing more than a rumour. And then… here you are, years after I first heard those whispers, about to earn your place as a Knight of Ansàrra.” He shook his head. “It baffles me.”

For the first time since he had entered, rather, for the first time since he had known her, a deep shadow fell on Kishirra’s face. She embraced herself, leaning forward as if to shield herself from a sudden gale of freezing wind.

“Why are you here, Kishirra? Why does an immortal Elf seek the embrace of Ansàrra? So much so you ask to prove your faith with the toughest Trial we possess.”

Kishirra muttered something, so faint her words disappeared down the sandy drain.

“Can you say that again?” The Sunseeker asked.

“— it is a lie,” Kishirra whispered through gritted teeth. Her silvery eyes moved downwards, towards the darkness that gaped at the bottom of the hole. As effortlessly beautiful as she was, she seemed to darken and diminish, like the lowest of aspirants caught skipping her sunrise prayer. Kishirra wrung her dark hands together. “It always was.”

“A lie.” The Sunseeker stood up, hesitating. For a moment it looked like he wanted to walk around the hole, sit next to the Elf and hold her, but he decided against it and sat down once again. “Your immortality is a lie? So do you Elves actually die in the end?”

Kishirra shook her head, her voice now raspy.

“—no. Ha… if only. It is not— it is far from… it is much worse.” She raised her eyes to meet the empty sockets of the Sunseeker. “Master. I am confident Ansàrra already knows the truth. If I were to share it with you, may I ask you for—”

“Discretion,” he nodded. “It is the price for sharing secrets. You have my word.” He held up his right hand and the middle three fingers, in the sign of their shared Faith.

“Yes. I understand. I am thankful, master—” Kishirra sighed, trying to collect herself. She ran her hands down her robe, straightening the simple grey fabric, and then she took a long breath, getting ready to talk. “It is a long story. And a longer confession, so I will have to cut short some of the details. If that is fine with you.”

The Sunseeker waited a few more moments, allowing Kishirra to regain her composure.

He nodded at last.

“It is. Now… you said that your immortality is worse than a lie.” He leaned back and set his hands in his lap, ready to listen. “Can we begin by knowing who told you that lie?”