CHAPTER 4: SYLVAR AND STEEL

    Cyrean grew up in the great forest city of Sylvarwood, like most wood-elves. The city was made up of buildings and homes that were engraved like carvings along the giant trees. The wood-elves used the magic of the forest, as well as their own strength to climb the trees into these outcropping homes. She remembered waking up every morning to the sounds of pixies playing pranks on people, which tended to be their favorite pastime. She remembered the warmth of her mother’s arms, like a sun on a hot day. She did however, remember her best friend, a strange person named Til. Til was rather odd, even for a fae. They changed their hair color as frequently as most change their clothes, and Til in particular changed their clothes several times a day. For the past several weeks however, it was Til who woke her up.

    “Come on ye lazy arse get te hell up!”

    Cyrean grumbled, “Ah don’ wanna.”

    “Ye can’t sit ‘er sleepin’ all day.”

    “Tha sun’s barely even up Til, lemme ‘ave five more minutes.”

    “Fine but yer gonna miss tha surprise ah got for ye.”

    Cyrean sat up in bed, “What surprise?”

    Til tossed something shiny in their hand, catching it and tucking it into their hip bag, “If ye wanna know yer gonna ‘ave ta catch me.”

    “Fine fine, ahm gettin up.”

    Til waited for a few seconds to allow the half-elf to pick herself up before they bolted out of the house, grabbing a vine and sliding down it. Cyrean went to follow the fey, grabbing a separate vine and sliding down it after them. As they landed they ran past several of the adult wood-elves and a few faeries. Being a mostly fae town most of the adults tended to wear little clothing, if they wore any at all. Cyrean was taller than most, even at such a young age, as such she tended to have to duck to avoid some of the lower objects the Til could just run under, though she was used to that. Til always had a way of weaving around and getting into places that seemed impossible to get into. Despite that Cyrean could keep up, finding ways around the narrow passages. During their chase Til led their wood-elf friend to a nearby creek that they frequently played in. As Cyrean arrived she saw Til, already standing on one rock in the middle of the water.

    Cyrean walked over to the base of the walk and looked up at Til, struggling to breath as she spoke, “So what’s ‘is surprise ye got?”

    “Ah but lass if ye want a treasure ye best be beatin’ me in a duel.” Til grabbed a stick, flourishing it dramatically.

    Cyrean rolled her eyes, grabbing another stick from the shoreline like she’d done often over the decade or so she’d known Til,  “Well then cap’n it’s time for a mutiny.”

    Cyrean splashed through the shallow water towards Til, their sticks clacking in front of them. Til wield their stick in a far more extravagant and flourish-heavy manner than Cyrean, who moved the stick in incredibly simple ways. Til already knew Cyrean moved like this, allowing them to be more aggressive than the half-elf. The fae knocked Cyrean off of her balance, going for a twack on her side. To Til’s surprise, Cyrean blocked Til’s stick and went for a swing against the fae. They smirked, simply stepping backwards off of the rock and letting the off balance Cyrean fall onto her back in the creek. 

    She sat up with a squeal, “Til! The water’s cold ye arse!”

    Til fell over the rock, laughing at the soaked girl, “Ah can’t believe ye actually tried ‘at!”

    Cyrean glared, getting up and going to shove Til into the water. They easily dodged it and grabbed her belt, yanking the grumpy half-elf back to their feet. Til, still chuckling, reached into their bag and pulled out a pair of rather intricate earcuffs, handing them to the bewildered Cyrean.

    “What’re these?”

    “Ye put em in yer ears, like earrings.”

    “Where in the Fae Forest did ye get te money ta be able ta afford tis?

    Til looked away as they responded, “Oh y’know, just around.”

    “Y’know if yer mum finds out ye stole somethin’ again she’s gonna be right pissed.”

    “Look ah paid for em alright. Just mighta been wit’ some other bloke’s coin.”

    Cyrean couldn’t help but smile, “Well guess ah can keep a secret.. Again.”

    Til giggled and put the cuffs on Cyrean’s ears, “They were made for half-elf ears.”

Cyrean looked up at the longer, pointier ears of the fae, which Til had adorned in earrings and small chains that they’d stolen. 

Cyrean awkwardly took a pose, “How do they look?”

Til gave a thumbs up and Cyrean sat up on the rock next to them. The pair sat there for a bit, Cyrean playing with a stick in the water.

"’ey Til?"

"Mhmm?"

"Where d’ya think tis creek goes?"

Til looked down at the water, their eyes following it's flow, "A nymph once told me ‘at all water flows back to te ocean."

Cyrean's gaze followed Til's, "Te ocean? It sounds nice."

Til stood up, grabbing Cyrean's stick and swinging it around like a sword, "Ahm gonna go there one day an’ go on an adventure"

Cyrean laughed, "Like a pirate? Don' they steal from te dead?"

Cyrean dropped in the water, “Well t’en let’s go on an adventure.”

Til seemed surprised but stood up to meet the half-elf’s gaze, grabbing her hand and giving a nod. They led Cyrean back towards the town, both of them bursting into a song they’d sung many times before. It was a ballad told by bards about the legends of the sea. As they arrived in town however, they stopped their shanties, noticing a crowd was gathered around the central tree known as the Elder Root. It was the center of the village but also of the forest that protected the entrance to the Fae Forests. There was a large patch of grass in front of the tree where the communal council that made decisions for Sylvarwood met. Cyrean and Til got to the edge of the crowd and a few of the faeries turned to them.

Cyrean nudged Til and whispered, “What did ye do tis time?”

Til shrugged, “Ah honestly got no idea.”

One of the faeries floated down to the pair, “Ye might wanna come to te middle.”

The pair gave each other concerned glances but obliged, following the faerie through the crowd. When they got to the center the roughly twenty people all turned to look at the pair. Til was hiding behind the bigger Cyrean as one of the council, a wood-elf named Rohein walked forward. They kneeled down, looking directly at the half-elf much to her surprise. 

With a solemn tone they spoke, “Cyrean it’s been two months since yer mother went out an’… we think it might be a good idea if you go live with your father.”

Cyrean shook her head defiantly, “She’s comin’ back!”

Rohein gently held the girl’s shoulder, “This is hard for us to tell you but.. Most mercenaries who don’t return end up..”

Cyrean felt her eyes start to well up with tears, “NO! She’s comin’ back!”

The man had a pained expression as he sighed, “Ahm sorry little one..”

Cyrean collapsed to her knees as tears began streaming down her face. She’s comin’ back for me… She thought to herself as Til and Rohein hugged her. No matter how much comfort those around her could give their embrace never came anywhere close to the warm sun-like feel of the embrace she remembered.

~

Cyrean sat in the back of a wagon going across the countryside. Rohein kept trying to get her to admire the view, though to her each tree or blade of grass that they passed was just another reminder of how far she was from home. The sun was high above her when the cart stopped. She heard the gentle thuds of Roheins boots as he walked to the back of the cart.

"If you'd care to join me I'm going to have some lunch."

She glared in response but her stomach had begun growling at the thought of food. Rohein smiled and sat next to her in the wagon. He pulled out some large yellow fruits from the fey forests, handing one to the small girl. She begrudgingly joined him, biting into the fruit angrily.

Rohein sighed, "Listen, I know you aren't happy with this but we can't have you running around and stealing from others to survive."

"Ye let Til live like ‘at." She grumbled.

"Til don’t ‘ave anyone ta turn to Cyrean."

"And wha’a wrong wit’ ’at?!"

"Ye ‘ave an opportunity fer somethin’ better than bein’ a street rat and ahm not goin’ te let ye throw ‘at away."

She turned away from Rohein.

Stolen story; please report.

"Children’re so stubborn…" he sighed.

He stood, stretching his back underneath the bright sun when he froze in place. Cyrean glanced over, noticing his elven ears twitching. Before she could ask what was wrong he'd run over, grabbing a spear from the cart.

"Cyrean hide.” he said in a low tone.

“Wha’s wrong?” She asked, standing up.

“Hide!” he said again, prompting her to run further into the cart, hiding behind some crates.

As she peered out from behind the crates she saw several people walking towards Rohein. They were clad in brown doublets with orange accents and lining and symbols of a skull turning to ash in a fire. There were maybe seven people in the group, several of them standing out in their own strange way. A pair stood a little ahead of the rest. They were the leaders, though compared to many of the group they didn’t stand out much, being humans. One stood rather tall at around six feet in height, though the shorter of the pair seemed to be far more intimidating. They had a sly smirk, as if Rohein was more of an amusement than a threat. In their hands was a strange wood and metal tube. It was far more strange and mechanical than anything Cyrean had seen before, though she could tell from the way the strange individual held it that the object was some form of weapon. On the back of their hip was another contraption that looked similar, though it was much shorter and wider with larger openings on the end. Once they stood roughly thirty feet away from the wood-elf they spoke.

“Well hey there stranger!” they said to Rohein, “You look a lil lost, maybe we can help out.”

Rohein gripped his spear tighter in his hands, “Ahm jus’ fine thank you.”

The group had begun circling closer, “Why’re you so tense? Maybe you should take a load off, leave the spears to us.” they spoke in a joking manner, once again treating Rohein as a joke rather than a threat.

Rohein didn’t respond, focusing on the individuals surrounding him.

“How ‘bout you just hand over your cart and we’ll only hurt you a lil bit.”

He stood firm between the intruders and the cart, his gaze and stance unwavering.

The leader gave a curious look at the cart, “What could be in there that’s so damn important huh?” they stepped forward, “Something valuable? Or maybe… someone?”

The moment the woman spoke Rohein lunged forward with his spear, aiming to take out the strange person taunting him. Before he even made it five feet the thief aimed their weapon at him and, with a loud bang Rohein collapsed on the floor. Smoke leaked out of the weapon like the blood leaked from the elve’s body, staining the world around it. Cyrean felt the world slow at that moment. Her heart began to race as his body hit the floor with a wet thud, her ears still ringing from the shot. She gripped the crate in front of her in a mix of fear and anger. She felt a flurry of thoughts fly through her mind of what to do. She wanted to run, to scream, to flee, to fight, to make them pay. As her mind slipped from fear to anger she felt her body charge forward, as if on it’s own. She let out a primal scream as she went for the person who’d attacked Rohein, running out of the cart as fast as her body could move her. They’d moved closer now and as they noticed Cyrean they moved their weapon, instead kicking her in the stomach and knocking the breath out of her lungs. The angry half-elf fell to her knees, coughing for air as she kneeled next to Rohein. She looked at his body and felt her heart hurt as if the attacker had kicked it directly, rather than her stomach. To her surprise she heard Rohein speak.

“Little one… ahm sorry.” he coughed up a spurt of blood as well as dust from the dirt, “Seems ‘is was futile an’ ah jus’ put ye in danger.”

“Why’re ye talkin’ te me like ‘at” she coughed, “Yer in danger too ye dumbarse.”

He chuckled, coughing up more as he did, “Yer so damn stubborn Cyrean, ye get that from yer father. Humans’re all stubborn arses.”

“Would ye shut up an’ help us get outta ‘ere?”

The man shook his head, “I’s too late fer me.. But ye can live little one.”

He grabbed her leg and a flash of blinding green light surrounded them. As Rohein died on the ground he put all of his energy into casting one last spell in an attempt to save Cyrean. She screamed out in pain as she felt a pain shoot through her leg as a thorny vine embedded itself into her like a tattoo. It began spreading across her body, as she felt a rage come over her, numbing the pain and fully replacing it with a pure, primal, and unbridled rage. Rohein died there, his body fading away in a cloud of a magical sparkle that resembled the sparkles that fell from pixie and faeries when they flew. The crew seemed terrified of the magical display of what was happening, only the two closest seemed in awe, rather than scared. Before Cyrean could truly comprehend what was happening she felt the wooden end of the leader’s weapon against the back of her head.

~

Cyrean had no idea how much time passed before she saw the sun again, the first instance of this being when she was sold to the Mainka. After they took her the first thing they did was hang her by chains to the wall, leaving her there for what felt like days before someone finally came in. They gave her a shortsword and pushed her into an underground arena with walls that towered over the girl. She never could remember her first fight besides the feeling of the blinding berserker anger washing over her, with nobody to stop it this time. She remembered the feeling after the fight, the feeling of the first time she’d killed anyone. The heat coming from her own adrenaline-filled blood, mixing with the heat of the blood covering her like rain. Part of her felt horrified, tuning out all of the noise of the cheering crowd as she stared at her reflection in the crimson puddle. She expected to feel sad, or scared, or any form of regret, but when Cyrean stared at her reflection, only anger stared back.

After the past however long it’d been, she was actually fine with the anger she felt. Ah just wanted to stay home. Rohein’s dead. T’e arses who put me ‘ere are probably gone, an’ t’e gods themselves seem t’e be anjoyin’ ma sufferin’. Someone needs ta pay an’ it might as well be one’o these bastards. After her fight they took her to an area with other fighters. She stared off into space with a scowl as the cleaned her and brought her to a human dressed in elegant dark blue robes with a symbol of a winged owlbear. He was her new owner, a man named Talas. His room was a high room, almost like a study that was placed above the arena. He was sitting at a desk, counting some coins as she entered. There was nowhere for the woman to sit as she looked around at the mostly empty room. The only objects of note in the room where the desk, a box of alcohol, and a fireplace with what appeared to be a poker sticking out.

“That was quite the display little one.”

She scowled at the man, “Who in t’e hell’re you s’posed ta be?”

“I’m Talas, and you’ve got quite a tongue on you.” he laughed, “Wood-elf right?”

“Half.”

He walked around Cyrean, inspecting her, “I see.. Well half-breed, you put on quite a grizzly show tonight. I’m glad to see my investment was not wasted.”

“Yer what?”

“You my dear. My investment in making a new champion.” he sat down at a fancy chair, grabbing a glass of alcohol.

“What if ah just kill ye right now. Yer fancy human talk is pissin me off.”

“Because without me you’ll never get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow, still glaring as she spoke, “Ahm listenin’”

The man stood, “You see this place, this arena is a great opportunity for me to make back all the coin I spend on pathetic creatures like you and more.”

“Who in t’e fuck are ye callin’ pathetic?”

“Freeze.” the man waved his hand, casting a light over Cyrean. 

As the spell hit her she found herself unable to move, “What is ‘is?”

“You seem to be under some impression that you have any form of power in this room. This room is, in fact, where I purge such thoughts.. And where we let everyone know where everyone stands.”

He grabbed the poker from the fireplace, revealing a brand of the same symbol that adorned the man’s robes. With a sinister smile he gently moved the scorching object in front of her, close enough for Cyrean to feel the heat of the object.

“Now the question, young Grizzly, is where should I place this mark?”

Her body would’ve been shaking if she could move, “Ahm sorry..”

He smirked, “Look at that, the bear can be tamed. Come now pick a spot.”

She felt the heat near her face, her mind racing.

“We could try here if you don’t answer fast enough.”

She let out a panicked plea, “A-anywhere else in mind?”

“Oh I’m not sure, I’m leaning towards the cheek. It does have to be somewhere visible.”

As he brought the brand closer she struggled to form any thought besides panic. She tried to think of anywhere that would hurt less. She glanced at the brand right before it touched her and with a last-second thought she stuttered out, “Wh-what about ma hand?!”

Talas stopped, a look of surprise coming over his face, “Your hand?”

“Mhmm. Is ‘at visible enough?”

“Visible… and unique.” his grin widened with sadistic glee as he grabbed Cyrean’s arm, slamming the brand down into the back of her right hand.

~

Even after many years the pain of the brand never quite went away. She’d been given several more scars from Talas’ daggers but none of them hurt anywhere near as bad as that day. He called it conditioning for whenever she would talk back or try to run. She’d just finished another fight and sat down in the waiting area under the arena, pulling bits of fur and brains out of her long hair. She sat down next to a strange human woman named Veronica. They were rather eccentric, always giving themselves or others tattoos based on victories or simply stories that they liked. Veronica’s tattoos weaved a tale of the stories of others, including Cyrean. Despite how often she gave others tattoos, Veronica was blind and had been for many years. The slavers didn’t let her fight anymore, but she was still owned by Talas and was kept around mostly to take care of the other warriors. Cyrean liked hearing Veronica tell her stories. She had a strange alluring accent and, always retold each tale in a different way every time, making even old tales stay captivating.

Veronica didn’t even turn her head from the man she was tattooing as Cyrean sat down, “Why ‘ello there miss. ‘Nother good day today?”

“‘Bout as good as any.”

Brent, the man she was tattooing held up his fist, “Hey there Grizzly.”

She pressed her worn knuckles against his, “‘ey Wolf. More Everfrostian ink?”

He nodded, “Veronica’s one o’ the only ones who can do it.”

Cyrean stared at the incredibly intricate knots of the Everfrostian art as Veronica worked, “Seriously V, how do ya do ‘at?”

She smiled at the berserker, “I see not with the eyes of my flesh is all.”

Brent and Cyrean gave each other confused looks.

She shook her head, “There is far more to seeing than sight alone.”

Cyrean flung a piece of fur out of her hair and shrugged, “If ye say so.”

Veronica finished tattooing a wolf on the left side of Brent’s chest, “There ya go deary.”

“You’re the best V.”

“Wolf, flattery is the way to many a woman’s heart, but here is not the place.”

The man gave a bashful smile, “I mean it.”

Veronica chuckled, “I am messing with you. Besides we both know you like your women with a little more..” as she paused she gestured to Cyrean, “Muscle.”

Brent snorted, “‘At may be true V but I think she might not be interested.”

“Ah’d sooner remove both yer heads from yer arses than bone anyone in ‘is shithole.”

Veronica sighed, “You both got no sense o’ humor.”

“Y’know V speakin o’ bonin’ ah gotcha somethin’”

The woman perked up, “Oh? Ye got another of ‘em for me huh?”

Cyrean nodded, handing her a skull from inside of her hair, “‘Ey really think undead’re a challenge.”

Veronica’s face lit up as she grasped the skull, whispering to it happily.

Brent sat down next to her, leaning in close with Cyrean, “Ya see anything?”

Veronica’s eyes began to glow with a green hue. She leaned close, inhaling a matching green mist from the mouth of the skull. She dropped it at the group’s feet, her head rolling back as she let the glow bask over her.

“I see… some woman. Nothing of interest.”

Brent leaned back against the wall, “Damn. Was hoping for a future glimpse.”

Cyrean sighed sadly, “Sorry it weren’t more interestin’ V.”

She shrugged, her eyes returning to their normal milky hue, “It’s alright. I appreciate you bringing it down for me little Grizzly.”

“Eh it’s nothin’ really. Makes life more interestin’.”

“Speaking of interesting..” Brent gestured to some Mainka members walking over.

“The fuck do ‘ey want now?”

The men walked up to the trio, grabbing Cyrean by her arms.

“What in ‘e fuck do ye want now?”

“Shut up.” one coldly replied as they dragged her off.

The group threw her into Talas’ office, the fireplace lit like normal. Talas himself was sitting behind his desk, writing on some papers that Cyrean couldn’t read. He ignored her for a short while as he finished writing, forcing her to simply stand awkwardly. He shuffled the papers so they were sitting together in a neat stack on the corner of his desk. She shifted uncomfortably as Talas stood up, walking over to his crate of alcohol, pulling himself out a glass and pouring it. 

It wasn’t until he sat back down and began drinking that he spoke, “Hello Grizzly.”

She nodded a greeting to the slaver.

“You may speak.”

She hesitated, not speaking until it was clear that he was waiting for her, “Why’ve ye called me up ‘ere?”

“Straight to the point as always. I’ve called you here because you’ve been doing very well in the arena and I believe you are owed a congratulations.”

She was genuinely taken aback by the praise, “Ah uhm… why t’e kindness?”

He laughed, “This is not a trick. You’ve made me an awful lot of coin.”

She looked down at the floor, hiding her anger.

“You’ve been doing so well that we’re going to move you.”

“Ta where?”

He sipped his alcohol before he spoke, “A friend of mine has set up a location similar to this and needs workers desperately. They offered quite a bit for you Ms Grizzly.”

The thought of dealing with Talas, let alone another slaver, pissed Cyrean off even more.

“Simply put you are going to keep up your cordial behavior to them and do as you’re told.”

She was gritting her teeth as he spoke.

“Grizzly.” he said, walking closer as he pulled out one of his daggers, “Do you understand.”

She gave an angry nod.

“Good. Now get her the fuck out of my sight.”

The other mainka members dragged her away, throwing her into a cage. They didn’t permit her to say goodbye to Brent or Veronica before dragging her cage into the back of a cart and taking her out of the arena. She saw the outside for the first time in a decade, though she only saw it for a few minutes before they threw a cloth of some form over the cage so she couldn’t tell where they were going. Fortunately, she never made it to her new owner, her cart getting ambushed somewhere near Rithnar.