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“Damien?” Whiskey said in disbelief.

Rain could only stare in hatred, thinking of how he’d killed Arok’Amon.

“Oh that’s right,” the Demonmaster hissed. “You don’t know yet, do you, Wizard? It’s Dar’Quath.”

Taking advantage of his surprise, Dar’Quath threw his hands forward at Whiskey, who immediately dropped to his knees, shouting in agony.

Her uneasiness at hurting another being with magic vanished at the sight of Whiskey in pain. Remembering their previous fight, she gathered red energy in her palms and quickly released a bolt at Dar’Quath. She hadn’t had proper time to build up its power, but she wanted to do something to stop Whiskey’s pain.

It disappeared a foot away from him, but it disturbed his concentration. Something invisible seemed to burst in the air. She must have shattered some kind of shield. Whiskey gasped and panted beside her, released from the invasion of Dar’Quath in his mind.

“Rain, don’t interfere,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You don’t want her hurt, you say?” Dar’Quath sneered. “How do you expect to protect her when you are so vulnerable? You spent the whole time she was away moping around, letting Myrna’s magic get to you.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Rain said.

“I’m telling the truth,” the Demonmaster smiled. Rain could tell he was weaving magic with his words. Whiskey was unusually emotional, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Rain.”

“You didn’t fail me, Whiskey!” She grabbed his shoulders and made him face her. “Don’t listen to him. You did all that you could.”

“I didn’t think things out thoroughly. Everything’s lost.”

“No, it’s not!” Rain yelled, exasperated. She disregarded Whiskey’s wish for her to stay out of the battle and began gathering more energy to throw at Dar’Quath.

Dar’Quath started muttering, and a slight shimmering appeared around him. Again, she had to release her energy before it was truly powerful, to disturb his incantation. Once the bolt reached him, though, his muttering was finished. This time, inches away from his chest, the orange bolt made his shield flash white, and the bolt changed directions. It shot above Rain, nearly missing her head, and hit a tree branch far above them. The branch crumpled and cracked, falling to the ground.

Searing pain hit Rain’s head, and she relived the horrible memory of Shea’s strange possession, when he attacked Whiskey and Rowena in their common room in Belmaeron.

“I’m not making the same mistake twice,” Dar’Quath said. “That silly magic of yours can’t penetrate my shield. Oh, and Shea’s dead, just so you know.”

It was a blow to her heart. She held on strongly to his memory, and slowly brought her hand to her chest, with much effort. “No he isn’t! He can’t be!” She struggled to find her aegis under her shirt collar.

“Nearly so, my dear. I’m ever so sorry.” The magic strengthened on her mind. She relived all her most horrible memories of the past few weeks. Her parents’ death. Her dream of Shea becoming a dreamwalker. Somehow Dar’Quath had become much stronger than he’d been at the Hollow. At a sudden increase in pain, she gasped and fell to her knees.

Through the pain, she could faintly hear Whiskey yelling at Dar’Quath. Some part of her mind that was still logical noticed that Dar’Quath could only enter one mind at a time. She cradled her head in her hands, unable to think any further without causing more pain.

Suddenly the pain lessened, and Rain looked up. Whiskey had made a tree branch grow and wrap itself around Dar’Quath, breaking the Demonmaster’s concentration. As her pain was merely a dull headache, she started gathering red energy, this time more than she had ever collected at once. But she needed time.

“Why did you do it? What is Myrna up to?” Whiskey used the tree branch to lift Dar’Quath above the ground and let him hang there.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the Demonmaster sneered. “Remember Edana, Rain? She was such a disappointment. Couldn’t even follow orders.” He started another spell while still in the grip of the tree, facing Whiskey.

At the mention of Edana and the memory of finding her dead, Rain nearly lost focus. She barely held on. “Whiskey! Don’t let him hurt you!”

“Don’t break your own concentration!” Whiskey yelled, and then the Demonmaster’s spell hit him, and he screamed.

The energy almost slipped from her grasp, but she forced herself to forget what was happening in front of her and felt her hands grow hot. A thick ball of red energy looking almost like fire grew between her hands. She threw her own rage into it, and then released it at Dar’Quath.

The force broke the tree branch that held Dar’Quath aloft and he screamed as he fell three stories to the ground. He landed with a sickening crunch, his yell ending abruptly. She looked over the edge of the staircase. He lay still on the ground, head and limbs twisted at unnatural angles. She had to look away.

“Whiskey!” He was on his back, face sweaty, skin pale. As if he’d had a horrible nightmare. No. Worse. She fell to her knees beside him.

She felt his forehead, brushing hair away. “You’ll be alright, won’t you?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Whiskey?”

His eyes opened slightly. “I had to do it. Had to… distract.” His voice was tired. “Only way he could die. Now, you must… finish the job. Find Myrna.” He smiled at her. “Bring them back. I believe in you.” His eyes closed, and his jaw went slack.

“No, no!” She bent her ear down to his chest to hear a heartbeat. It was silent. She let her head rest there as the tears flowed from her eyes.

A clap of thunder sounded, and rain began to pour. The storm had begun.

***

Rain felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Sister, come. We need your power.”

She looked up through the raindrops to see Kalmin. Deep sadness filled his eyes. He held out his hand and helped her stand up. “Let your feelings give you power. The Wingmasters have come, and none of us have magic powerful enough to stop them. Aeraldor sent me to get you.”

Rain nodded. She finally put the hood of her cloak up, shielding her already soaked hair from the rain.

“We’ll get someone to tend to him. Come.” He started walking, but she didn’t follow.

“He’s gone. There’s nothing to tend to.”

Kalmin turned to face her. “Then we’ll get someone to take his body to where we can say goodbye in a good way. I don’t mean to be rude, Sister. We need you in the fight. He would want you to help.”

Rain couldn’t seem to make her mind work, but she managed, “How is the fight?”

“It’s strange. All the wild animals that had attacked us before became normal again, just a few minutes ago.”

“It was him,” she said, pointing at Dar’Quath’s body on the ground below.

Kalmin looked, and grimaced. “There is still a sizeable force of craetons to deal with, and we have reported sightings of two Wingmasters. With the number of healed soldiers coming from the infirmary, though, I think we have a chance.”

“Good to hear.” Then, she remembered. She stopped walking. “Shea.”

Kalmin smiled. “Aeraldor said you might mention him. He said to tell you that he sent another guard to see how he was doing. We need you at the front lines, Sister.”

She couldn’t bear thinking that Shea might be dead, too, so she forced it all out of her mind. “Alright. Let’s go.”

They descended the staircase, rain dripping off the trees above them. The sounds of fighting became louder. It was dark enough that they couldn’t see very far ahead. On the first level of the city above ground, where the archers were stationed, they approached Aeraldor and his soldiers.

She looked over the shoulder of the nearest archer at the ground below. Soldiers on foot were battling craetons, but in the center of it all, where no one approached, were the two Wingmasters. They wore black cloaks, just like the one she’d seen in Willshire, with a red insignia on the breast. She couldn’t see what it was from this distance, but knew it was a raven.

“Why aren’t they being attacked?” she asked Aeraldor. She remembered how Whiskey had snuck up on the one in Willshire from behind. Were these harder to kill?

“We can’t get close to them. They have some sort of invisible shield, and nothing we’ve tried has worked. I thought perhaps, with your sort of magic, you could do something.”

“I’ll do my best. But why haven’t they attacked you up here, with the archers?”

“I don’t know. They seem to be preparing something.”

She looked more carefully. The Wingmasters were chanting facing each other, their palms held upright, touching one another.

“Perhaps they’re creating the storm.”

“They can do that?” Aeraldor said, looking at the angry sky.

Rain began calling upon the red energy, readying to release the small amount necessary to break a shield like Dar’Quath’s. When she let it go, there was a shimmer in the air all around the Wingmasters in a spherical shape.

“Open fire!” Aeraldor yelled, and the archers shot at the Wingmasters.

In a split second, the Wingmasters had stretched out their hands toward the falling arrows and incinerated them with a quick blast of lighting from their fingertips.

They both turned toward the archer’s platform, and stared directly at Rain. She gathered more energy, hoping they wouldn’t steal her aegis like Dar’Quath had.

One of them smiled. “Well, look at that. She came to us. We don’t have to go searching after all.” The elven soldiers on the ground in the immediate vicinity stopped and stared at the Wingmasters in rigid horror. It gave the craetons they’d been fighting the advantage, and they were swiftly killed.

The other Wingmaster pouted. “Oh, but think of the bodies we’d have to work with, if we’d gotten the chance to raze this sorry city to the ground.”

“Not today, sis. She only wants that one.” She pointed at Rain. “And you know how she gets picky.”

“Alright then. Girl, come down. If you come by your own volition, we might spare the lives of your precious elven friends.” Rain realized everyone around her was frozen still. She reluctantly released the flow of energy to her hands, and they visibly dimmed.

Aeraldor gasped. “What was that? I’ve never been more afraid in my life.”

“It’s what they do,” she said. “I’d advise falling back, and letting me take care of this.”

He nodded, and they ran. She was soon alone on the platform, the craetons moved on to other soldiers further away.

In a sudden burst of inspiration, she remembered the spiders in the library on Straldun. Lynara had used orange energy. She did the same now, hoping the Wingmasters wouldn’t do anything rash. She wasn’t about to let all the things Whiskey and Shea did for her be in vain.

“Oh look, sis. She wants to play instead.”

“What sort of magic is that? A silly ball of light?” They started chanting. Renewing their shield or staring a mind-invading spell, she didn’t know.

She had two targets this time, so she tried something different, and let the energy grow in both her hands separately, like she did when she healed people, instead of concentrating it in one ball. She let the rage gather in her mind, thinking of all the horrible things that had happened.

The power came quicker than she expected, and after only a few seconds, it was ready to be released. She let the power from one hand extend toward one of the Wingmasters.

The Wingmaster shot lightning toward her orange beam of energy, but the second they touched, the lightning vanished. Rain was so surprised, she stopped the energy flow. Realizing she had had the advantage, she let the energy flow again, and released it. The Wingmaster shot lightning once more, but the beam of energy shot right through it and pierced the Wingmaster’s chest. It burned a hole straight through her, a small cloud of dust escaping her body. She screeched and fell to the ground.

The other Wingmaster screamed in surprise, but before she could protect herself from the same fate, Rain shot energy at her from her other hand. A hole burned through her and she crumpled to the ground like the other Wingmaster.

Unearthly screeches filled the air, and Rain realized it was the craetons. They’d lost all of their leaders now, Dar’Quath and the Wingmasters. They seemed to be controlled mentally, and without direction, didn’t know what to do.

She ran toward where the soldiers had retreated to, and found them on another platform, easily picking off howling, raving craetons.

“Aeraldor.”

“Thank you, Sister. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you. Their death seems to have made the rest of them crazy.”

“The battle isn’t over. Something occurred to me, from what the Wingmasters said. If they can make use of dead bodies, we’d do best to burn them.”

“We usually cremate the dead anyway, and release them back in to the earth. But I will make sure it is done swiftly.”

She nodded. “I’ll be back. I’ve got to see Shea.”

Aeraldor nodded, frowning, and Rain dashed up the staircase, toward the solitary confinement area. The rain had slowed and the clouds were disappearing above her, more quickly than was natural.

***

A healer stood in front of the door to Shea’s room, preparing herbs on a small table.

“Excuse me, I’m—”

“Sister Rain.” She smiled. “Rowena told me you’d come.”

“How is he?”

“Not good, I’m afraid. I don’t really know how this happened, but a guard came to check on him earlier, and the guard didn’t come out of the room for quite some time. I opened the door and found him cursed as well. I was just about to see if I could take the guard out of the room without getting infected myself.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got decent protection against the Soulblight. I’ll go in and see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” the healer said.

Fear hit her the moment she opened the door. It was in the air, a smell, a feeling. Shea lay on a cot of animal skin and wood. His eyes were staring straight ahead, and he was deathly pale. The guard lay propped against a wall, almost as white. She pulled the vial out from under her collar and hurried to the guard, giving him one drop of the cure. Putting her hands under his armpits, she dragged him to the door.

“Here, healer. He should be cured, but his body is still weak. You can give him the herbs, they’ll help.”

“Thank you, Sister. Will you need any help? Otherwise I’ll bring this elf down to the infirmary.”

“No, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Rain went back inside the room and stood at Shea’s side. His eyes had grown dark. Tentatively, she touched his forehead. It was so cold. Fear raced into her, as if it ran up her arm from Shea’s body.

“So,” Shea spoke, the dark eyes looking at her.

Rain jumped back.

“You have defeated my sorceresses and that poor wretch of a man, Damien. He was weak anyway. Too bad this body is too frail to move, or I’d have you killed in a split second.” The voice was angry, but quiet.

“What have you done to Shea? Is he still alive?” Rain hissed, calling up her anger in case she needed to defend herself.

Shea smiled. “Your love is so strong. Commendable, really.” The eyebrows narrowed. “You may have stopped me this time, girl, but mark my words. I will hunt you. One day, I will find you, and kill you. The last moon elf shall not live.” Shea’s head fell to the side, slack-jawed, eyes closed.

“Shea!” She gently lifted one of his eyelids, and saw his eyes had returned to normal. The possession had stopped. She gave him a drop from the vial and held his head in her hands. “Please, Shea. Don’t die. I have no one else.” She kissed him on the forehead.

“Rain?” His eyes fluttered open.

“You’re alive!” She hugged him fiercely.

He grunted and she pulled back, realizing he was still weak. “I’m sorry, here. Let me help you.” She called on the yellow energy, letting it flow through her fingertips into his body. Visibly, she could see the color and natural warmth come back to his skin.

“Ahh,” he said. “Thank you.”

When he looked normal again, she let go. He sat up, stretching his limbs.

“How do you feel?”

“Great. Just a little tired.” He drew a sharp breath.

“What is it?”

“I remember.” He looked up at her. “I remember everything. Everything I did while taken by this curse. I’m sorry.” He stood up and hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I would never intentionally hurt you like that. Will you forgive me?”

Rain smiled, and in her relief at seeing him healthy again, kissed him. He pulled back, surprised. But he grinned in that way he did, and kissed her back.

***

They stood in a clearing. Rain, Shea, Rowena, Aeraldor, and a few others who had known Whiskey were in a circle around a pyre, on which Whiskey’s body lay. It burned bright in the night air, the rising smoke obscuring the stars above. A larger fire burned in the distance, taking care of the bodies from the battle, craeton and elf alike.

Rain held Shea’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t help the tears. Shea let go of her hand and instead wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Her thoughts went to the prophecy. Part of it had come true. She’d gained the trust of “those like her,” and they gave her the cure. Now, she knew she had to complete the rest of it.

“He’ll always be in my heart,” she said, gazing at the fire. “I’ll do in his memory, Shea. I’ll find out if my real parents are still alive. If they are, I’ll find them. And somehow I’ll bring my people back. The moon elves will return.”

The End

Thank you for reading!

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Link to Chapter 1 – Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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They raced across the plains at a gallop with Maruck and Gralin in the lead and Tamrin and Rain following close behind. The clouds looked much like they had when she first came: dark and foreboding. The stale smell from before was also there, blown around by the wind. They’d make it to the door in time, but she was worried that the rain would come before the soldiers could return to Dolmeria.

They took one stop for water. To her surprise, Maruck took an empty waterskin and, using innate magic, drew water into it, and then passed it around.

“I thought it was too difficult to spare energy for things like that?” Rain asked.

“I’m training, so I practice every chance I get. It’s hard work, but I’m slowly getting better at orange.”

“Would you be a good candidate to replace Faramond, if he doesn’t return?” she asked.

Maruck shook his head modestly. “I don’t know… there are many more at my level,” he said, pouring water into a bucket he’d brought for the horses.

“I think you’d be a great candidate,” Tamrin said. “You’ve gone on quite a few hunting raids and came back without a scratch. And besides, magic like yours should at least be used for more important things than battle.”

He smiled at Tamrin’s eagerness. “I can’t see the Great Mother choosing me. I’m just a soldier. But we’ll see.”

When everyone had their fill of water, they set off again. Sooner than Rain expected, the stone archway was in sight, surrounded by green grass and little white-speckled red mushrooms.

“I don’t know how you’re going to make it work,” Maruck said, “but here we are.”

“Are you going to make it back in time?” Rain asked, sliding off Depla and giving her a parting pat on the neck.

Tamrin looked at the sky. “We’ll be fine if we hurry.”

Rain walked toward the circle but before she stepped inside, she turned back to the elves and smiled. “Thank you so much for your help. I think you can expect me back before too long, maybe even with friends. I’ll do whatever I can to help you in return.”

Maruck nodded and placed his hands together, making a slight bow while still atop his horse. “May you walk in the light of the Goddess.” Both Tamrin and Gralin did the same, but silently. Rain repeated the bow, hands together, and said a quiet “Thank you.”

Then she turned to the door. She recalled the image she needed to have in her mind for the trip back: the symbol for the elves, a tree encircled by twisting knots. With that firmly in her mind’s eye, she stepped over the mushrooms. Immediately the inside of the archway turned dark as nothing. A quick peek over her shoulder showed the three astonished faces of her companions. She gave them a quick smile and turned back to the archway, stepping through into the unknown.

***

In the nothingness that surrounded Rain, a name came to her.

Ellwood.

As her senses came back, she smiled to herself, pleased that she made it back safely. She took in the room around her, torches still burning as if not a minute had gone by. Her smile disappeared. Dar’Quath’s body was gone. She berated herself for not having the guts to check that he was dead before she left.

As she left the doorway, it closed and disappeared behind her, and she was completely surrounded by the painted walls. She hurried out of the chamber, the torches extinguishing behind her as she ran. She wondered how much time had passed.

When she reached the end of the hall and the dark stairwell yawned before her, she took the last torch out of its holder and held it before her. She climbed the stairs carefully and shook away the thought that the walls were closing in on her.

The stairway ended. She faced a solid wall of wood. She touched the wood, wondering what to do to make it open.

“Arok’Amon?” she said. Could the tree hear her? “I’m back. Can you open, please?”

Nothing. Not even a creak.

As she ran her hand over the wood looking for a crack, she wondered what had happened. Had Dar’Quath done something? Was she trapped here, now? Before panic completely set in, she took a deep breath. She had magic.

She let herself feel the power of the red energy, her body filling with strength. She noticed then how much easier it was to access her magic back in Ellwood. Placing the hand without the torch on the wood before her, she pushed.

The wood gave in the middle, exactly where she remembered the opening being before. She continued to push and the wood groaned, opening to reveal the dark forest beyond. When the opening was large enough, she stepped through, holding her torch aloft.

She knew, then, that the tree was dead. It wasn’t a visible sign, rather, something she felt. The feeling was so strong, so deep, tears came to her eyes. Even in the forest around her, there was a sense of something missing.

“Pan!” She whistled. “Here, boy!”

She started walking in the direction she remembered coming from, continuing to call out to Pan. There was a quiet, nervous whinny from the trees to her left and there was Pan, still laden with all her things.

He nuzzled her affectionately. He’d missed her, which could mean she’d been gone for at least as much time as had passed on Straldun. As she juggled the torch and mounted up, she realized the woodland creatures and plants that had been following her before weren’t around. She walked Pan on in eerie silence.

“Rain?” a voice whispered.

She whipped her head around. “Who’s there?”

Something small dropped out of the tree above her. It was Caemira.

“It is you, Rain! Oh, I’m so glad you came back!” The sprite scrambled up Rain’s arm and hugged her cheek.

“What happened?”

“It was horrible! A little while after you went down, a scary man made the tree go crazy! It started attacking its own children! I ran away as fast as I could, but a short time later, everything went quiet. The trees stopped talking all at once. It was like…”

“Arok’Amon died, which killed everything else.”

Caemira looked up at her, eyes wide. “Yes. I thought about leaving, because I thought you must be dead too, but I stayed for a few days just in case…”

“Well I’m glad you did.” Rain nudged Pan into a walk. “What does this mean, if the tree’s power is gone? Will something happen to Lake Dolmeria? And can the power be restored? I was able to come back through the door, so not all the power must be gone.”

“I don’t know.” Caemira perched on Rain’s shoulder and gripped it, peering into the woods, more frightened than Rain had ever seen her. “What happened down there? Did you get what you came for?”

Rain pulled the vial of red liquid out from under her collar. “A cure.” She put it back quickly.

Caemira smiled, giving Rain a touch of hope. “Wonderful.”

***

They rode back to Belmaeron in near silence, and Rain didn’t stop for anything in fear of getting back too late. She figured she might have another day or so before the attack started, but she had no way to tell for sure.

Calves aching but eyes wide awake from worry, Rain dismounted Pan as she neared Belmaeron. There wasn’t any fire or unusual smoke rising from the city, and she breathed a little easier.

“It’s so quiet.” Caemira crawled up Pan’s mane and sat between his ears. “Something’s wrong. The trees say something’s coming.”

“Just not too soon, I hope,” Rain muttered. Only Rowena and Aeraldor, if she told him, knew where she’d been. Going back to her room first was too much of a risk. She started toward the infirmary instead.

No one was in sight when she came to the circle of trees that housed the infirmary. She found the first room she’d healed people in, where the dryads and faeries had been, and left Pan off to the side of the tree. The door creaked as she inched it open.

Every bed was filled as before. They all appeared just as sick, if not more so. Some of them could have been dead. The stench in the air was of rotting plants.

Caemira, who had perched again on Rain’s shoulder, gasped. “I’ve never seen anyone so sick with the Soulblight.” Her voice was muffled from her hands covering her nose and mouth.

“I healed these people, not a few days ago. It’s like no one’s been tending to them.” She walked to the nearest bed and saw the dryad had turned almost completely brown and withered.

“She’s very close to death,” Caemira whispered.

An urgency compelled Rain to hurry out of the room. “I have to find Rowena. Maybe Aeraldor will know where she is.”

Rain closed the door behind her and mounted Pan. He started moving immediately. From the light in the sky, Rain guessed it was late afternoon, and she hoped someone would still be out practicing in the archery area.

The thunk of an arrow hitting its target resounded in the air as she neared the practice area. She dismounted, leaving Caemira with Pan, and nearly ran toward who she saw.

“Aeraldor!” She was so happy to see someone familiar that she disregarded formalities and hurried forward, throwing her arms around him. He bent down and embraced her. When they broke the embrace and she looked around, a group of elven archers were staring at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “Excuse me, carry on,” he said to his students. “One by one now, practice what I’ve been demonstrating.” He pulled her aside to where the other archers couldn’t hear them.

“Rain, you have no idea how good it is to see you. Were you successful in your journey?”

She briefly showed him the vial around her neck, as she had done for Caemira. “A cure.” His eyes widened. “And I just visited the infirmary. Do you know if the patients have been tended to? They look worse than before I helped Rowena heal them. Would you know where she is?” She was breathless.

“I’m sorry, child, I don’t. I’ve been busy preparing the few soldiers we have available for the attack. I’ve heard whispers and rumors. Your predictions were correct. There is a force on its way here from beyond Ellwood, to the north. I’m working as hard as I can to get these soldiers in shape. I haven’t spoken to Rowena in a couple of days.”

“How long have I been gone?”

“About three days, near as I can tell. A day or two and it’ll be a week since your dream.” They stared at each other in silence as the full meaning of his words hit them. “Try looking everywhere in the infirmary, and I’ll search the city. You’ve been missing for a while, and we don’t want to make a commotion if you’re seen in the city. I’ll come to the infirmary as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.” She bowed briefly and returned to Pan and Caemira, overhearing Aeraldor telling the archers to continue practice without him.

Just as Rain expected, Rowena was nowhere to be found in the rooms of the infirmary. All she found was more patients, and none of them looked well. As she sat down outside one of the rooms and leaned against the tree, she thought of Shea. Thinking of how sick all the patients were, she hoped dearly that he wasn’t as bad as them.

A long time seemed to pass. Finally there was the sound of hoof beats on the ground nearby. Aeraldor approached with a body in his arms. It was Rowena.

Rain jumped to her feet and ran to the centaur. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“Is there an empty bed in one of these rooms?”

“No, they’re completely full.”

Aeraldor found a patch of healthy grass and kneeled, setting Rowena down gently. “She appears to be quite sick. I found her in her shop.”

Rain sat on the grass. “It looks like the Soulblight,” she said, feeling Rowena’s forehead. It was hot, and damp from sweat.

“You have the cure though, correct?”

“Yes.” She fumbled with the vial around her neck, her hands shaking. If this didn’t work…

She gently opened Rowena’s mouth and tipped the vial once, quickly. One bright red drop came from the vial.

Rain slipped the vial back under her collar, then waited and watched.

Rowena’s eyes fluttered open.

“Rain?”

“I’m here.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “How do you feel?”

“As if I just woke from a vivid dream. Weak, but in control of myself again.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Aeraldor said, a light in his eyes.

“Here, let me see if I can help you with your weakness.” Rain put her hands under Rowena’s head and called forth the healing yellow energy. Yellow tendrils laced her fingers, and Rowena’s feverish, tired look dissipated.

“Amazing,” Aeraldor whispered.

Rowena took a deep breath in and out when Rain finished her healing. “That feels marvelous.” Rowena sat up slowly, smiling. “Thank you, dear Rain.” She hugged her tightly, and by her strength, Rain knew she was back to normal.

“What’s been going on?” Rain asked as they stood up. “The people here in the infirmary look awfully sick.”

At this, Rowena turned away and lowered her head. “As I kept working on the patients afflicted with the Soulblight, I slowly got the curse myself, until I couldn’t tend to them anymore. It made me extremely pessimistic and negative, and I felt like nothing I was doing was helping.” She turned back to Rain and Aeraldor. “There were others that helped me tend to these people, and I don’t doubt they all became as sick as I was.” Suddenly, her eyes widened and she stared at Rain. “Wait a minute. How did you heal me? When you used your magic before, you could only heal their bodies, not their minds.”

Rain pulled out the vial and showed it to Rowena. “I got a cure.”

Rowena gasped. “You made it through the Hollow and back? That’s incredible!”

Rain told Rowena and Aeraldor of what happened since she’d left for the Hollow. She spoke of her fight with Dar’Quath, traveling to Straldun and Dolmeria, what she’d learned of the moon elves’ fate, and Lynara the healer.

“But when I came back, Dar’Quath was gone. He’d killed Arok’Amon and fled. I had to force myself out of the bowels of the tree.”

“Arok’Amon is dead?” She looked at Aeraldor. “But that means…”

Aeraldor stared back. “Lake Dolmeria…”

Rain felt a touch on her booted foot, and looked down to find Caemira. She bent down and let her sit on her hand, then brought her up to eye level to show Rowena and Aeraldor. “This is Caemira. She helped me find the Hollow.”

“Hello dear one,” Rowena said in greeting, and bowed slightly. “Thank you so much for guiding our friend.” Aeraldor smiled and nodded to the sprite.

Caemira giggled. “You’re welcome!”

“Now about that cure,” Rowena said. “We need to administer it to the patients as soon as possible. Do you only have that small vial?”

“There’s a way to make more. We’ll have enough.”

A thudding noise began and came closer. Rain turned her head and saw a guard running full-speed towards them.

Out of breath, the guard spoke to Aeraldor in bursts. “Rabid animals have been… attacking the ground level of the city… and we have reason to believe… the attack has begun.”

Aeraldor swore. “Continue administering the cure. Come with me,” he said to the guard, and headed toward the archery area.

“Rain.” Rowena put both her hands on Rain’s shoulders and looked intently at her. “How do you make more of this cure? I can give it to the soldiers I have in the infirmary first.”

“You only need a drop of it in water, and it will reproduce itself.”

Rowena nodded and led her to the room she used for storing healing tools. She picked out a wooden bowl, filling it using a nearby pitcher of water.

Rain removed the vial from her neck and let one drop fall into the bowl. The drop suddenly spread throughout the water, turning the whole bowl a deep shade of red.

“Marvelous,” Rowena said. “Is there anything else I should remember? Just give each person a drop?”

“Be careful not to touch it. The healer said the sensation would be nearly unbearable.”

“Easy, I can do that. Listen, Rain, I think you should take that vial of yours, since you have quite a few drops already, and go find Whiskey and other important members of the council, and make sure they’re healthy and ready for this attack. I can administer the cure by myself.”

“Are you sure? What if the cure takes hold of you again?”

“I’ll be fine. I worked with these people for much longer than a few hours to get as sick as I did.”

“Alright, then.” She hugged Rowena. “Be careful.”

“You, too, dear Rain. You’re the most valuable of us all.”

***

Rain rushed through the trees, nearing a staircase to the upper levels of Belmaeron. She wondered who she should go to first: who would be in the most danger, and who might be most necessary for the coming fight.

Air whooshed past her cheek and a thunk sounded on the tree trunk. She whipped her head around to find an arrow. It had been unbelievably close. The arrow was elven made, she was sure. She quickly scanned the trees for the attacker and saw an elven guard, far above.

“Don’t shoot! It’s Sister Rain, I’m on your side!” she shouted.

She wasn’t sure if all the guards new her name, or how much her story at the council meeting got around. Just in case he couldn’t hear her, she ran quickly up the staircase, making sure to keep moving. Another thunk sounded behind her. She wondered how many more people roaming the city had contracted the Soulblight.

Carefully she made her way her rooms on the third level of the city, figuring it would be best to get Whiskey first. It was eerily quiet, and the clouds above her were turning dark. As she got closer, shouts began on the ground level. She distinguished elven voices in the fray, but mostly there were animalistic, unearthly growls and howls. Craetons and cursed animals, she guessed. If they were going to get help from the council members, she had to hurry.

She opened the door and looked around the room. Whiskey was sitting in a chair, head in his hands.

“Whiskey?”

He didn’t look up.

She went up to him and touched his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“You’re not really there,” he whispered. “You’re never coming back.”

“Of course I’m here, Whiskey! It’s me, Rain! I got the cure!”

He raised his head. She showed him the vial. “No, it can’t be.” He put his head back in his hands.

“No, Whiskey, listen to me. I’m really here. This is the cure. Put your head back, I’ll give you a drop.” Rain put her hand on his forehead.

Something seemed to awake in him at her touch, and he let her tilt his head back and give him a drop of the red liquid. His eyes went wide and after a few moments he looked around the room and finally at Rain.

“Why am I here? What’s going on?”

“Calm down, Whiskey. Put your head back. Let me make sure you’re fully healed.” She went around to the back of the chair and put her hands on the sides of his head. Yellow energy flowed out of her hands. She felt that he didn’t need quite as much as Rowena had, so she let go of the energy after about a minute.

“Feel better?”

“Completely. How did you do it?”

She showed him the vial of red liquid. “I have a cure. But I don’t have time to tell you how I got it yet. The battle has begun, and they need your help.”

“The battle?”

“The one you dismissed as just a dream.”

It was silent in the room for a moment, and the sounds of clashing swords and shouts were heard in the distance.

“Right. I’ll go.”

“Are there any other council members who might need the cure, who could help in the battle?”

“I don’t think so. As far as I know, I was the only one who helped cure the sick, apart from Rowena. Though, her other attendants might need some help, if she was affected.”

“She was worse than you, but she’s fine now. She’s healing the soldiers.”

“Why don’t you come help me, then? It’s time you use your magic for something other than healing and conjuring. Your power is great, you’ll be as much of a help as I am.”

“I suppose…” her thoughts went to Dar’Quath, and how she felt using magic as a weapon. “There’s someone I want to check on first.”

Whiskey smiled, the first time in a while. “Shea?”

She was too worried to be embarrassed. “Is he still in isolation?”

“I would guess so, but I haven’t heard anything. I’ve sort of been out of it lately.” He winked. He was definitely back to normal.

She smiled in return.

He walked to the door and opened it. “I need to get to Aeraldor and find out what I should do. Will you be alright walking to Shea on your own? If there’s a battle, it could be dangerous.”

“I know, Whiskey. I’ll be alright.”

They exited the room and closed the door, heading toward the staircase. As they neared the last walkway, a familiar figure came up the stairs and stopped in front of them.

Dar’Quath.

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Once they returned to the healer’s home, the guards left for their barracks and Faramond went back to the Crone to tell her what had happened. Rain sat at the table with another cup of tea. Lynara stood at her book stand, pouring over the book an elf had died for.

Rain tried not to think about what had happened and sipped the aromatic tea for something to do. As she drank the last of her cup, she looked over at Lynara, who hadn’t budged since she found the right page.

“How is everything looking?” she asked quietly, afraid to break the healer’s concentration, but unable to hold in her anxiousness.

“If you’d come a while ago, I would be sure I could do all of this. But as my power’s weakened… I don’t know if I can.” She looked at Rain peculiarly. “You have innate magic, right? How much do you know about it? How much can you do?”

“A fair amount, I think,” Rain said.

“Who taught you? You couldn’t have figured it all out on your own.”

“Do you know Whis—Deaglan, I mean? Wizard Deaglan?”

Lynara stared. “Deaglan? Of course I remember Deaglan…” She shook her head. “I miss the man. I was his teacher, you know. For innate and spirit magic. What colors have you studied?”

“Red, orange, yellow, and I’ve touched on blue.”

The healer frowned. “You skipped green? How long have you been studying?”

“I’ve known Deaglan my whole life, but I only knew about my magic a few weeks ago.”

“Weeks. You’re kidding.” she said. Rain shook her head. “Has he been rushing you?”

“No, actually. I figured yellow and blue out on my own. He didn’t want me learning too much, in case the enemy was able to control my powers. But it’s kind of too late for that,” she mumbled.

Lynara shook her head in amazement. “The Crone must have sensed a lot of power in you. There hasn’t been a moon elf with your amount of power for a long time. How old are you?”

Feeling strange to be asked that so often, Rain said, “Twenty.”

“Goddess, but you’re young. The only ones equal to you in potential are more than five times your age. They’ve studied for most of those years, and none have reached white energy yet. I bet you’ll get there faster than they will,” she said with a wink.

Rain didn’t know what to say.

“Using magic in Straldun is difficult to say the least. Even for someone of your talent. But if we do as much of this without magic as possible, and you do the parts requiring innate magic, we can do this spell. It’s a bit of innate and elemental put together.”

“I’ll do it,” Rain nodded.

Lynara smiled. “Good. First, we need wood for the fire and water for the pot, which would be easier to gather than to try and conjure.”

***

They worked hard through the day and into the night, Lynara occasionally checking on her patient in the bed and in the other buildings. When they had spare time, Lynara shared a few tips about conjuring, as it was her strength in innate magic. Rain learned how to visualize more clearly so she’d always create exactly what she pictured, and how to use as little magic as possible, something it was necessary to learn in Straldun.

Faramond came to see them, but left when Lynara complained he was only in the way. Rain prepared to leave for the palace to sleep, but after hearing thunder overhead, Lynara said it would be safer to stay inside. She instead curled up with spare blankets on the floor near the stove, exhausted.

By midday the next day, they were nearly done. Rain and Lynara stood over the boiling pot, and Lynara read off the ingredients.

The healer plucked off the leaves of a sprig of basil, the last ingredient, and dropped them into the pot. The liquid inside was now dark brown. “The last ingredient is over there,” she said, pointing to a basket of red berries. “One cup of sweet red berries, for taste.”

Rain scooped them in her hands. “Is this about a cup?”

“That’s fine. Put it in.”

She watched as Lynara stirred one more time. “Now, we let it simmer for about an hour, or until the color is deep red from the berries.”

After giving the pot a stir, Lynara went and sat in her chair at the table, and Rain took the seat across from her.

“I’m so happy you could help,” Lynara said. “I couldn’t do this alone in my state, not only from weakening magic but because of all the patients I have to attend to. I really have to watch my magic use these days. Besides, the recipe says it typically takes about three days to prepare, but we did it in less than two.” She put her hand over Rain’s on the table. “Dear one, I hope you can save your friend. Love like rarely comes more than once in a lifetime.”

Rain blushed and nodded, looking down at the table. “I just hope he’s not too far gone.”

***

Having nothing better to do, Rain helped clean up. After they ate a filling lunch of thick stew and homemade bread, the cure looked ready. The room was filled with the sweet smell of the berries and spices.

“The smell is so strong,” Rain said as Lynara lifted a spoonful to smell it carefully and judge the color. “It’s almost… enlivening.”

“Everything about it makes the cursed ones in charge of their own body again. All of your senses are affected. Besides being an intense red color, it has a strong taste and smell, is naturally warm even when not being heated by fire, and after we chant over it, it will contain that chant and enhance the hearing when ingested.”

Rain imagined trying to give this cure to the many, many people who needed it and realized how daunting a task it was. “May I ask… why couldn’t you teach me a spell or a certain way of healing as a cure? It will be such a big job to give this to everyone who is sick. Do we even have enough?’

“That is one reason why it is good we had to use elemental magic and make a physical cure. Innate magic takes energy from our bodies, but this holds its own energy. Anyone can give the sick this cure, they only need a drop—on the body or in the mouth, either will work. And spirit magic is tricky. It’s known as the darker side of elemental magic, so for some of these counter-spells to work, we must use the elements.”

“But… how can this small pot of the cure help so many people?”

“The herbs in this remedy are very strong, and certain ones have their own magical properties. With this cure, if you put a drop of it in water, the whole pot will be just as strong as the drop, and undiluted. With a small bottle you will easily be able to save everyone who is sick.”

Rain watched as Lynara held her hands above the simmering pot.

“I command, by the power of my magic, the curse of darkness to leave the bodies this cure touches. May the senses be awoken and the soul returned from the mind that controls. So it is.” She flicked her hands over the pot, as if throwing the words themselves into the remedy.

The remedy stopped bubbling and steamed for a minute, then went still. She removed it from the stove with oven mitts and placed it on a counter. Then she went in one of the back rooms and came out with a small bottle with a thin cord hanging from the top and carefully filled it with the red liquid.

“The one thing you must remember is to not touch the cure with your skin, or it will enter your body. If you ingest too much, especially when you’re not afflicted with the Soulblight, your senses will be enhanced so much that it will be painful. It could last for a few minutes to a few hours, until it passes through your system.” She tied the string to itself so it made a loop and then handed it to her. “Guard it well.”

“I will,” Rain said, slipping it over her neck. She held the vial in her hand for a moment and noticed its natural warmth seeping through the glass. She put it under her shirt, beside the aegis.

Lynara looked outside. “I think you’d better head back to the Temple of the Crone before it gets dark. Would you like me to escort you back? The streets aren’t exactly safe.”

“I’m fine, I wouldn’t want you to walk back alone either.” She gave the healer a parting hug. “Thank you for your help, you’ve saved more people than you can count.”

Lynara smiled. “It’s what I do. Go, child. I hope to see you again before too long.” They waved to each other and Rain started up the road toward the main plaza.

***

The wind howled down the street as Rain walked. She remembered the way back because it was nearly a straight shot, but being alone in the desolate city made her uneasy. She peeked down a particularly dark alleyway and though she saw nothing, she began to walk faster. For all she knew about this place, shadows could chase after her. She clutched her dagger tightly under her cloak.

A shriek made her stop, draw her dagger, and look around wildly for the source, expecting to find a spider from the library. Instead, a black vulture flew above her in a straight line toward the plains. She sighed with relief and started walking again, but didn’t put her dagger away.

She tried to keep her eyes from wandering to the shadows, but she couldn’t help herself. It was easier to imagine evil things when she didn’t know what was in the darkness, so she decided to peer into alleyways and abandoned buildings as she walked, just in case she saw something dangerous.

For a while, her plan worked and she felt a little safer. But as she passed another building, she saw something move in the shadows. She drew in her breath sharply and stepped up her pace again, now edging on a run.

She could hear light steps that she knew weren’t hers. Don’t look back, don’t look back, she told herself, but she eventually had to take a look. Whatever it was whipped back behind a building so fast that all she saw was a blur of black. Like a shadow.

Now she was running, and she knew she wasn’t far from the plaza. Her desire to see what was behind her was gone. When she had the temple in her sight, she ran faster. She heaved the large front door open and stepped inside, banging the door shut. She rested against the inside of the door and heaved a sigh of relief.

***

“Sister Rain?”

She started at the voice from deeper in the temple, but then realized it was that of the Crone.

“Yes, Great Mother.” She hurried into the main area and down to the dais where the Crone was.

“Is Faramond with you?” Her voice quivered.

“No, he isn’t, I thought he came back yesterday,” Rain said, immediately thinking about the shadow-thing that followed her.

“He left to check on you but never returned. I was… too afraid to leave and find him. I’ve been worried for you.”

Her eyes widened and she was overcome with dread. She looked behind her again to make sure the shadow-thing didn’t follow her inside. “Great Mother,” she said urgently, stepping closer, “something followed me on my way here. I tried to look at it but all I could see was a blurry shadow. Faramond told me earlier, about shadows in the city. What did he mean?”

She stared into the recesses of the high ceiling and spoke in a quiet, detached voice. “Every time one of us dies, our spirit does not leave this place. We are doomed to roam the streets and barren plains, and usually our spirits stay near where we’ve died. Because of the diminishing magic, which we’ve used for centuries to create our food, we have had a hunger crisis. In many cases we’ve had to learn to grow our own food, but the land here is so devoid of nutrients that many elves haven’t made it. The spirits in the streets are most often those who have died of hunger.”

“Are the spirits dangerous?”

“When they want to be,” she said. “Many are only sad, looking for their lost families. But when someone is killed in anger, or dies with unfinished business, they can be dangerous. They can walk through walls, enter bodies and make them move how they want them to, and move inanimate objects. They’re most likely what made Faramond… disappear.” She looked at Rain sadly.

“I’m so sorry. But who could want to hurt him?”

“I’m not favored by everyone anymore. Many people blame our city’s displacement on me, and it was likely someone’s ghost who wanted to get back at me, and make me vulnerable by killing my closest advisor and guard.” She waved her hand, dismissing the subject. “I’ll be fine. There are others who can take up Faramond’s position. Now, you have your cure?”

“Yes!” Rain pulled it out and showed the bottle to the Crone eagerly. “Lynara was a great help. But I very much regret that you lost a soldier because of me, getting the spellbook in the Library.”

“Yes, He died so many more could live. It is how every soldier wishes to pass. Faramond told me the story.”

Rain tucked the bottle back beside the aegis, and when her fingers brushed it she got a strong wave of homesickness.

“You need to get back home now, do you not?” the Crone said.

“I’m not sure I could find my way back to the Hollow, Great Mother.”

“No matter, you just need a horse, and an escort. Many of our soldiers and scouts know the location of the Hollow. We haven’t discovered any magical properties in our research, but maybe it will work for you again.” She stood up, her robes swishing to the floor. “I’ll take you to the guards’ barracks. Besides, I need to notify the general about Faramond’s disappearance. We can protect each other on the way,” she said with a smile, despite the loss of her second-in-command.

***

The barracks was only a few minutes’ walk away, and with the Crone next to her, Rain wasn’t as worried about the shadow spirits. The Crone led her to the eastern edge of the city, where they found two guards dressed in leather and chain mail at the entrance to the soldiers’ training area. Upon approaching the guards, she realized they were Maruck and Camaran. When they recognized the Crone, they hastily put the palms of their hands together and bowed.

“Welcome, Great Mother, it is a pleasure to see you again. We have been moved to guard duty for the time being,” Maruck said. Camaran scowled at him as if he’d said too much. “What brings you here?” He nodded at Rain, acknowledging her presence.

“Something has happened to Faramond. If he cannot be found, I need to appoint someone new to his position.” She lowered her voice. “Tell the general that the shadows are becoming more restless. And one more thing—Sister Rain needs an escort to the Hollow. Please find a soldier who knows the way, and two more that will go along for protection.”

“Right away, Great Mother,” Maruck said, bowing.

Camaran raised his hand to stop Maruck from leaving. “I will go,” he said, and strode off in the direction of the main barracks before Maruck could say otherwise.

Maruck laughed lightly. “I’m sorry he’s skittish around you, Rain. We both were rather young when the banishment happened, and he is skeptical about the world we used to call home. This place has grown on him, no matter how dismal it is.” He looked up at the eternally gray sky and sighed.

“I understand,” Rain said. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you here.”

“It will all change soon,” the Crone said. “For the worse or the better, we have yet to find out.”

Rain tuned out of the conversation as it turned to news around the barracks. It was incredible to her that these people that looked so much like her, and even had the same magic. Somehow, they had been hidden from the world—the world she was from, anyway—for decades. She wondered how many other worlds there were, accessible through the Hollow.

After a few short minutes, Camaran returned from the main barracks. “The general would like to speak with you, Great Mother. The escort for Rain is assembling now,” he said, speaking only to the Crone, “and will be ready in a few minutes. I will take you to the general, Great Mother, and Maruck will take Rain to the escort.”

The Crone turned to Rain. “Then we must part ways, dear one,” she said. “But I expect you will be coming back soon. I sense things are changing, and that you are the one to bring that change.”

“I don’t know if you’re right, but I would like to see you all again,” Rain said. She hoped the change wasn’t for the worse, like the Crone had suggested.

“I sense great power in you, as you know. With the strength of our magic waning, we can use all the help we can get. Keep practicing your magic, and when you are able, come back to our city. You will be very welcome here.” Her smile was warm.

“Thank you, I will do my best.” Rain said.

The Crone turned to Camaran. “I am ready to see the general. Lead the way.”

***

“We’re headed in that direction,” Maruck said, pointing at a large building. Rain nodded as she followed his lead.

They turned down a path that led south, away from the main barracks. They passed a small group of soldiers, both elf-men and elf-women, who appeared to have just come off duty. Maruck stopped for a moment and told her to wait. He alerted them that he and Camaran were helping the Crone, and that they needed soldiers to take their place at the entrance to the training grounds. The soldiers agreed to take the message to their superior and then set off again, waving to Maruck like friends.

“Sorry we disturbed your shift,” Rain said apologetically.

Maruck looked back at her and smiled. “No, actually I’m glad you came. It’s unbelievably dull on guard duty. You helped break the monotony.”

They passed the large building, and behind it there were ten smaller buildings, which Maruck said were the soldiers’ quarters. As they passed, Maruck slowed his pace so they could walk side by side.

“So if you weren’t raised in Dolmeria, where were you raised? With your birth parents somewhere else?”

He seemed trustworthy enough. “I was raised by surrogate human parents in Willshire. Across the Fangs in the countryside. I’ve never met my birth parents. In fact, I’ve never known till recently that the people I grew up with weren’t my birth parents.”

“That must be difficult to find out.”

“They died before I set off to find Ellwood and the elves.”

He looked at her with sorrow. “Many of my friends and close relations have died here in Straldun. I know how that is, to lose someone close. How did they die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It was a Wingmaster. She hurt my father and then killed my mother when she tried to protect him.” She was amazed the tears weren’t coming yet. “The only reason the Wingmaster came that I know of, is that they found out I was here, and came looking for me. My father was in the way when they arrived. My friend Whiskey—or Wizard Deaglan to everyone else—is like an uncle to me, and helped me escape before I could be killed or captured.”

“A Wingmaster. That’s spirit magic, right? Myrna’s doing?”

Rain nodded.

“So she found out you existed. I bet she thought she got rid of us all.” He was silent for a moment, and then said, “You might just be our salvation after all.” Seeing her expression, he added with a wink, “No pressure or anything.”

She laughed. “I’ll do what I can, certainly.”

***

They passed the last of the guards’ quarters and entered the stables. Two moon elves were getting horses ready. Two stall doors were open, where the elves were working, and most of the other stalls housed more horses.

“If we’re prepared enough with food and water, and know where we’re going, do we actually need horses?”

“You need to go and come back before the rains come. You were lucky last time, barely missing it.”

“How do you know how far the Hollow is?”

“I was on the team, years ago, that tried to travel back through it. Clearly, we didn’t succeed.”

A blonde-haired elf came out of one of the stalls. “Which is precisely why you’re coming with us,” he said to Maruck.

“Really, Tamrin, don’t joke,” Maruck said. “Who’s the third one coming?”

“You are! Gralin here,” he pointed behind him with his thumb at the dark-haired elf in the other horse stall, “thinks he knows the way but isn’t sure. You’re the one who knows the way best, so you’re coming.” He grinned.

“What about my shift?”

“It’s taken care of. You’re really the best one to go.” Tamrin stepped back into the stall and finished buckling his horse’s bridle. “There’s more tack in the back room. Start saddling up.”

Maruck shook his head and walked toward a space between two stalls on one side of the building. Rain followed and they entered the tack room, filled to the brim with saddles, bridles, brushes, and other equipment.

He led her to a line of saddles and pointed out a plain saddle for her to pick up. Rain assured him she could carry the hefty saddle by herself, and then he chose a similar one nearby. They walked back to where Gralin was taking care of his horse and Maruck entered the stall to the left.

“That horse is a good one for you,” he said, pointing at the stall to his left. “Go ahead and see if she likes you. Her name’s Depla.” He entered his own stall and put down the saddle, then hurried back to the tack room to get brushes, picks, and bridles.

Rain entered the stall and put down the saddle. The mare was brown except for her rear end, which was white speckled with black spots. Depla looked at Rain kindly and calmly, and let Rain pet her cheek and neck.

Getting her ready to ride was a breeze, and Rain was finished before Maruck. She found a small bag of carrots by the door to the stall and gave one to Depla. The mare ate it greedily.

“Come on, Amur!” Maruck said. “What’s wrong with you?”

Rain walked to Maruck’s stall and saw him trying to put the bridle on his horse, but Amur kept swinging his head to the side to avoid it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Amur is never this head shy. I wonder if something’s wrong with him. He was fine until I touched his ears.” He sighed. “But we don’t have time to call in the healers. The black rain will come in just a few hours. And I’m no good at yellow energy.”

“Let me see if I can do something. I know a bit about yellow.”

Maruck looked skeptical, as if he didn’t want strangers touching his horse, but then stepped aside and let her in the stall.

Amur moved his head away when Rain reached toward him. She called the yellow energy into her hands and when they glowed, tried again. He must have sensed the purpose for the magic, because he stopped moving his head and let her touch him. She reached out toward his left ear without touching it, but nothing happened. Then she tried the right ear, and the yellow energy swirled from her hand around the ear, healing whatever infection or cut he might have had. She helped it along with visualization. When it was done, the horse nuzzled her energetically.

“Nice work!” Tamrin exclaimed. She turned and saw all three elves watching her from outside the stall. She smiled nervously, not used to other people watching her use her magic.

Maruck made his way into the stall and tried putting the bridle on again. Amur was patient and didn’t swing his head away.

“Thank you so much,” Maruck said with sincerity. He petted his horse’s neck affectionately.

“It’s no trouble.” Rain left the stall to check on Depla, and get away from the prying eyes of the soldiers.

“You three start leading your horses out while I get the pack,” Maruck said. Rain followed Tamrin and Gralin outside, leading Depla behind her.

“You’re lucky to have gotten so far with your innate magic,” Tamrin said. “Many of us, even with moderate ability, find that it’s too difficult to practice magic often, and can’t get much further than red. Right, Gralin?”

The other elf made eye contact with Rain for a moment and nodded, then turned back around to face his horse, fussing with the bridle and reins.

Tamrin leaned closer to her and whispered, “He’s not much of a talker.” He hopped onto his roan horse and Gralin onto his dark black stallion. Rain suddenly realized Gralin’s horse looked a lot like Ahearn. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Get on your horse, Sister, we best be on our way,” Maruck said from behind her.

She looked at him briefly and when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes, his expression changed to concern. She shook her head to keep him from mentioning it and fought back the tears as she hopped on Depla.

“Let’s go,” she said with the clearest voice she could muster, and then whispered to herself, “I’ve got to get back.”

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Outside, the wind howled and sent cold gusts rippling through their clothes as they rushed forward. Thunder rumbled overhead. A flash of lightning was visible in the distance, and in that brief second of light, black clouds churned.

“Quickly, Great Mother! We don’t have much time until the rain starts!” Faramond yelled above the noise of the storm. They all picked up their pace.

They followed him to an enormous building along the outside ring of the plaza. The front doors were two or three times her height. Faramond pulled one of these doors open and let them all go inside, then rushed in to follow them and closed the door loudly behind him. He let out a long sigh of relief and rested against the door to catch his breath.

They were in an entrance hall, decorated with large paintings of beautiful landscapes and rich carpets of many colors. As they stood recovering from their quick dash across the plaza, another crash of thunder sounded outside. The Crone walked to one of the windows.

“Ah, the rain has started. We made it just in time,” she said.

“But isn’t it just water?” Rain asked.

“It’s unlike any rain you’ll see in Ellwood. Come, look outside.” The Crone moved aside so Rain could look out the window. When light flashed, she focused on the rain and noticed something was different—maybe it was darker, or thicker. “It is what we have called ‘black rain.’” Rain remembered Maruck’s joke from earlier, and it began to make sense. “It does nothing to buildings or land that is different than normal, but if it touches an animal, elf, anything breathing, it will sear the flesh. You have only a few minutes from when the wind starts gusting and the thunder and lightning striking to get inside to safety.” She looked at Rain sadly. “It is another reason why the healers are quite busy lately. These storms have happened more frequently, and some people simply cannot find shelter soon enough.”

“Like us,” Maruck said. “If you hadn’t come along we might have lost track of time and been stuck out there in the black rain.” He made a quick bow to her. “Thank you, Rain.” Camaran did the same, if reluctantly.

Rain laughed a little but stopped when she saw Maruck was serious. “You’re welcome,” she replied, smiling.

“Our weather patterns are another reason I believe this world, Straldun, was made by Myrna specifically to torment us,” the Crone said. “The sky is constantly cloud-covered, and though we can see the sun through them, we cannot ever see the moon. And that is our one connection with the Goddess, when we are separated from her presence. It is the one thing above all that has made people lose hope.”

Rain felt a pang of sadness for these people. Her people. She wanted to do anything in her power to help them.

Faramond turned to her. “Your name is Rain, is it?” He chuckled. “After all these years, another sort of ‘rain’ will give us hope.” She smiled at his wordplay. “If you wait for a bit, I will get your room and one for the soldiers ready. Great Mother, you may retire when you like.”

The Crone laughed. “You needn’t be so worried about me.”

“Yes, Great Mother,” he said, bowing to excuse himself, and hurried off through another set of doors.

The Crone turned to her, deep in thought. “It is interesting that you come to us at this time. There are not many Sisters left. Brothers were rare even before all this tragedy. The elf-women usually have greater power, you see. Most moon elves can wield innate magic, certainly, but there are few that have as great power as you. I sense the ability for you to reach white energy, one day. You know of it, yes?”

Before Rain could show her surprise, Camaran said, “It’s odd that one of us lives elsewhere. The banishment was for all of Dolmeria, except for Myrna. How did you escape?” he asked with tension in his voice.

“I… I really don’t know…”

“Don’t be rude, soldier. She might have no idea,” the Crone said. “How old are you, Sister?”

“Twenty. If I may ask, why?”

“Do you know much about our people, Rain?” Maruck asked.

“A little, but not much,” she said, and being surrounded by moon elves, she was embarrassed she didn’t know more.

“We live for around five hundred years, and mature early, by about your age. For all we know, you could be over a hundred years old.”

Rain’s eyes widened. “I knew elves lived for a long time, but…”

“That means you are still young…” the Crone thought aloud. “Perhaps your parents were the ones that escaped the banishment. Did you know them?”

“Not my birth parents. I was raised by humans.” Images of Celena and Fergus flashed through her mind, bringing a sharp pang of homesickness.

“Something about you looks familiar,” the Crone said. “I’d be interested to learn who your parents were. So many of us were lost over the years that the people I’ve known and lost have blurred together.”

“The rooms are ready,” Faramond said from the doorway, dashing Rain’s hopes of asking about her parents. “Follow me.” He held the door open and waited for them to come.

The Crone started to head toward a second set of double doors. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sister Rain. I will see you tomorrow.” The Crone smiled, and once Rain nodded in return, the elf-woman left the room through a set of ornate doors, closing them behind her.

***

Rain and the two soldiers followed Faramond. As they walked, Rain sensed there were other elves around, but she saw none, probably because it was so late. The butler pointed out a room for Maruck and Camaran, generously sized with two beds and a separate bathroom. He led her further down a hall, up a flight of stairs, and pointed to the door on the right.

“This will be your room.” He opened the door to show a large room with an elegant bed, separate bath, and a small table with two chairs by the window. The curtains were drawn to the deadly storm outside. “Upper floor is the women’s quarters.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Sleep well, Sister.” He walked off down the hall.

After closing the door, she realized how tired she was, and how inviting the bed looked. She pulled off her boots and let out a sigh of relief from walking in them all day. She managed to get her cloak off and set it on a chair by the window before she threw herself onto the bed. Questions ran through her mind and the sound of the rain on the window, slightly different than she was used to, made her nervous. But her tired bones didn’t let her stay awake long.

***

The morning sky dawned gray, not as dark as the day before, but still no break in the cloud cover. After eating a small but satisfying meal of fresh fruit, bread, and tea that she found on her table, Rain found Faramond on the ground floor. He told her to head to the temple, where she found the Crone. He followed not far behind, staying by the door while they talked.

“Good morning, Sister. How was your sleep?” the Crone asked from her throne.

“Restful, thank you.”

“Very good. I will have Faramond escort you to the healers. You may ask for help from them, and if they give you any trouble at all, let me know and I will talk with them.” She smiled as if the healers gave trouble often.

“But Great Mother, I must stay and protect you—” Faramond began.

She shook her head sternly. “No, you must go with Rain. Her mission is vital to our people as well as hers. You would do well to honor her word and treat her as you would any Sister.”

“Yes, Great Mother.” He bowed deeply to hide his reddening face. After a moment, he recovered and stood straight. “It is not far, Sister. Please, follow me.” He nodded to the Crone and led Rain out of the temple through the enormous front doors.

***

Faramond was silent as he led Rain down one of the streets leading away from the plaza. The early morning air was eerily quiet, and in the shadows between the buildings not yet touched by the thin light through the clouds, she could imagine dark, hidden things lurking…

“Sister,” Faramond said with composure, “may I ask that you do not focus on the dark alleys? It only encourages them.”

She frowned at his back as she followed him. “Encourages them?”

He looked back at her over his shoulder. “The shadows are as alive as the rodents scurrying about and the black vultures swooping overhead.” He cleared his throat and took on a more friendly tone. “I do apologize if I surprised you, but I don’t read minds. I can just tell when the shadows become more restless. As I said, thinking about darkness only encourages it. So do try to refrain from doing so.”

“I understand,” she said, though she felt tricked.

“I do sense that you are a good person, so I will trust you to watch your thoughts.” He turned around to smile cordially and then continued on in silence.

Strange fellow, she thought, but then decided not to judge him in case he wasn’t keeping his promise. To keep her thoughts positive, she held her aegis and thought about home.

***

They had been going straight down the street for a while, and now they turned left down a side street. As they continued, the buildings were made of wood rather than stone, and she reasoned they were a good distance from the center of the city, most likely near the outskirts. Soon the street opened up into a small grassy area circled with small wooden buildings. Faramond strode up to the largest one and knocked loudly.

“Who is it?” a cranky voice called from inside.

“Business of the Crone,” he said loudly and confidently.

The door opened a crack and the eye of a female elf who had a bit less of the ageless quality of the Crone peered out.

“Faramond, it is too early to take patients,” she said quietly.

“It is not a patient. It is a matter of life and death for both our people and those in Ellwood.”

The healer’s eyes widened in shock. “Ellwood?” she peered at Rain, then looked back at Faramond. “No. You must be joking. I cannot take patients today.” She closed the door firmly in his face.

“I do not joke, Lynara!” he yelled. “If you do not open this door immediately, I will go all the way back to the main plaza and bring the Great Mother to you. Maybe her wrath would suit your punishment better than my own preferred ways.”

The door opened wide showing her gray hair hanging long and straight, eyes and cheeks wrinkled in a smile, and slight portly frame. It was strange to see on an elf. “Come now Faramond, don’t you worry, I’ll see the girl now. I’ll let you both in, but you must let me explain.”

Faramond gave her a curt nod and went inside, and Rain followed.

***

A musky-sweet smell filled her nose when she entered. The walls of the large room were covered with bookshelves, drying herbs, and various healing tools. Near the back, two doors led to other rooms, and a small wood stove sat in the center of the room, warming the immediate area. A single bed rested against one wall by a window, in which a wounded guard lay resting. His bare chest was bound with linen, and his face was laced with sweat.

Lynara led them to a table against the opposite wall from the bed and had them sit.

“Tea?” she asked, walking to the stove, on which a kettle sat steaming. She brought the kettle over to a cupboard and pulled out a mug.

“We did not come to chat,” Faramond mumbled as she pulled out two more mugs.

“It’s a relaxation tea,” she said after bringing the cups over and pouring the tea. “Chamomile and mint.”

“How do you manage to get the herbs? Do they actually grow here?” Rain asked.

Lynara looked at her curiously. “You look like you’re from here, but you aren’t, are you?” She sat down and took a breath, happy to explain. “I create them with the magic. Orange and yellow are my strengths, but it’s getting harder and harder these days for anyone to use any sort of energy. When things were normal, I would only use yellow. Creating herbs uses less energy than healing, and it’s getting ever more difficult to draw on my magic.” She sighed. “Listen, Faramond, the reason I wasn’t going to let you in was this guard.” She gestured at the elf in the bed across the room. “There have just been too many patients and… my healing abilities have been waning. I cannot help everyone anymore.” Her face took on a serious expression. “It scares me.”

Faramond finally looked sympathetic. “I am sorry, Lynara. You cannot be expected to help everyone. But we would like you to at least try helping us.”

She took a sip of tea and then asked, “What is it that you came here for?”

“I need a cure.” Rain explained that she was from Ellwood and told about the awful things the Soulblight was doing. Lynara took it all rather calmly. In the rush of explaining herself, Rain told her about Shea. “I miss him terribly, and I am not allowed to see him, else he tries to hurt me again.” She looked the healer in the eye. “I know he is not the enemy. He’s in there, somewhere.” Rain sipped her tea, letting it soothe her.

Lynara eyed her gravely. “The Soulblight… I’ve heard of it in my studies, but it is so contagious and such dark magic is needed to create it that I pictured it as merely legendary.” She sat back in stunned silence. “I don’t remember the cure.” She paused. “But I might be able to find it in our library.” Sitting up straight, she finished off her cup of tea. “We should go now. The sooner the better.”

“The library?” Faramond’s eyes were fearful, and Rain knew it wasn’t some strange fear of books. “You don’t really mean to go—”

“Faramond,” she said, telling him with her eyes to let the matter go, “can you get a few guards to come with us, and meet us at the nearby junction?”

Rain frowned. Guards to visit a library?

“Yes. I’ll go now.” He swiftly stood and went outside, tea untouched.

***

Lynara led Rain to a large intersection in the roads, where they waited for Faramond. She tried to ask Lynara why they needed guards, but all she would say was that they needed to be protected. Faramond came within minutes, followed by three elven guards clad in thick leather, each carrying two longswords and a dagger. Rain wouldn’t have been surprised if they were hiding more weapons somewhere in their clothing.

They proceeded up a street that lay on a hill, and once the top of the hill came into clear view, Rain saw what had to be the library. The enormous building was intricately carved out of stone with arches lining each wall, two of which led to the main double doors. The other arches held stained-glass windows almost three times her height. There was a large barren area in front of the building with a few old benches, which she guessed used to be some kind of common area before the banishment. It was eerie to see it empty. As they approached, she saw the building was old and unkempt, with dirt lining the outer walls and ivy crawling up the sides.

They walked up the front steps, and one of the guards opened the double doors. They creaked, adding to the unkempt feeling of the place. Lynara strode inside first, followed by Faramond, who pulled Rain along like she was a child. She figured she wouldn’t have entered on her own anyway. Inside, the ceiling was so high and dark that she couldn’t see it clearly, and the faint light that shone through the windows illuminated dust and unnaturally thick cobwebs hanging between bookshelves, chairs, and lamps up above. The guards entered after her, closing the door with a solid bang.

“You’re sure it’s not upstairs with the healing scrolls?” Faramond asked Lynara as they passed a large spiral staircase.

“Anything having to do with dark magic, particularly spirit magic, is in the lower level. Even their cures. They’re delicate topics, deadly in the wrong hands,” she said quietly. “We all know what happened the last time we weren’t careful who went down there.”

“Of course I know what’s in the lower level! I was just hoping we wouldn’t have to go through this,” Faramond said. It was odd to see him angry, and Rain wondered if he was hiding fear. But what would be so frightening that they needed guards in a library?

“I said it for the benefit of the newcomer.” Lynara nodded over her shoulder at Rain. Faramond was silent.

They continued past many bookshelves filled with old, leather-bound books until they reached the back of the building. At first she wasn’t sure why they’d stopped; this bookshelf by the wall looked like any of the others, containing old, faded volumes laced with strange spider webs. She reached out to touch the webbing, thick as rope.

“What makes this strange—” she began.

Lynara pushed her hand away from the web before she could touch it. “Careful, my dear,” she said, smiling, and ignored the question.

The healer then walked to the back wall, and in a spot Rain thought was just another section of wall, she pushed inward with her hand.

From behind Rain came a creaking noise, and she turned to see a section of the floor give way to a dark stairway leading down.

“Light, please,” Lynara said.

“It would take too much out of me to keep a flame going,” Faramond said. “I am going to need a torch. And you are the better torch-maker.”

Lynara grumbled something and then closed her eyes, holding her hands in front of her like she was receiving something. After a few moments, a thick wooden stick appeared in her hands, about half as tall as she was.

“Too long, Lynara,” Faramond said, but gave it up when she glared at him.

“It’s impossible to make my magic work correctly right now. You should know! It’ll work fine.” She then produced a rag and a bottle of oil.

Faramond prepared the torch and then used his own magic to light it. He gave it to a guard, who withdrew a sword in his other hand and started down the dark narrow stairway. Lynara followed directly behind, and Faramond urged Rain ahead of him down the stairs.

A repulsive scent wafted from the floor below, reminding Rain of the raw meat Fergus used to prepare in the Inn’s kitchen. “What is that smell?” she asked, plugging her nose with one hand, nervously placing her other hand on Lynara’s back for reassurance.

“The spiders’ last meal,” Faramond said from behind her.

Rain went rigid. When Lynara realized Rain wasn’t following, she turned around. “Don’t be scared, young one. Fear draws them to us.” She glared at Faramond, and then continued down the stairs. Rain reluctantly followed.

***

When they reached the bottom, the torchlight illuminated the ceiling two stories above. There were more spider webs than on the ground floor, and some of them seemed even thicker. Rain stayed away from the webs, not only heeding Lynara’s warning, but afraid she’d get stuck if she touched them. The books on the shelves around them were larger, and most of them had dark leather covers. They walked slowly down the widest aisle, made by two bookcases.

“Stay quiet,” Lynara said in a whisper. “The book should be down this way.” She pointed to the right, down a skinnier aisle, and the guard nodded and went ahead with the torch. It was harder not to touch the webs here, squeezing between the two bookcases. The healer stopped midway down the aisle, searching the book spines. Many of the titles were in a strange runic language, and those in the common tongue were in such stylized script that in the darkness, Rain couldn’t read any of the titles.

“Oh dear,” Lynara said, fingers hovering over a particularly thick volume. “It’s covered in webs. Almost as if someone put them there…”

“Can’t you cut them away?” Rain asked.

“Touching these webs in any way will awaken the spiders. Even if we managed to not get stuck to them, they’d be upon us in seconds.” Lynara groaned.

“This is why we brought soldiers!” Faramond exclaimed. “Just cut them away and we’ll make a run for it.”

Lynara looked at Rain for confirmation. “This is essential to the survival of the people of Ellwood, yes?” Rain nodded. “And if Myrna is the one behind it all, it will be essential to our own survival as well. Let’s do it.” She nudged the guard with the torch and pointed at the book she wanted. “Carefully cut through those webs.”

He nodded and handed the torch to her, then took out his dagger with a leather-gloved hand. After quickly slicing through the thick spider webs so that the book was clean, he gingerly pulled the volume out of the bookcase. Lynara took it from him, but before he completely let go, he found one of his gloves’ fingers stuck to a residual web. He took off the glove and let it hang on the web that now dangled from the bookcase. Seeing that he wouldn’t be able to get the web off of his dagger either, he reluctantly let it rest where the book had been.

A strange hissing noise began, and grew louder. They began to walk back the way they came, but once they were all in the wider aisle, horrible screeching sounded from the depths of the room. Rain couldn’t calm down, no matter how much Lynara soothed her, and she was afraid the fear was exciting the spiders. The two guards that hadn’t helped with the web cutting shifted position so they stood between the group and the screeching coming from down the aisle.

“I’m sorry, Lynara,” Rain whispered in a quavering voice.

“It’s not your fault. We touched the webs,” she said. Red eyes opened in the darkness down the aisle. “Run!”

Spiders skittered toward them. The first ones were a few inches wide, but behind those were larger ones, and so on until Rain could see eyes so large in the darkness that she couldn’t believe they belonged to a spider.

“Come on, Rain!” Lynara yelled, already far down the aisle. The two guards stayed where they were and the other ran toward the staircase, cutting through the smaller spiders that had begun to crawl along the wall behind them, weaving webs to block off the exit.

Rain finally got a grip on her reflexes and dashed toward Lynara and Faramond. The guard hacked away at both webs and spiders, each one a couple inches wide with an incredibly large abdomen. They were all jet black except for a small yellow spot on their bellies. Each time one was killed, a horrible scream rent through the darkness around them, and the other spiders screamed as if in pain, as if they were all connected. The guard drew a second sword from his belt and handed it to Faramond, while Lynara sent out orange bolts of light, cringing with effort. Each bolt of light seemed to vaporize the spiders when hit. Once they fought through the mass of smaller spiders, the guard dashed up the stairs and the rest followed.

At the top of the staircase, Lynara held out the torch so the two guards who were still fighting could see where they were. The guard who had come up the stairs with them yelled down to his comrades.

“Come on! You’re nearly there!”

They soon heard the sound of tearing spider flesh. The larger spiders were upon them. Momentarily the screeching stopped, and then came a scream higher in pitch than any so far.

“The queen spider!” Lynara whispered.

One of the two guards below found the staircase and after muffled yelling, ran up the stairs alone. Human screams soon followed.

“Healer, close the entry before the spiders take any more of us,” the guard said.

“Are you sure?” She gave the guard a grave look.

“Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain,” he said, voice cracking. “It’s how he wanted to go.”

Lynara put her hand over the stone in the wall that had opened the floor, and the floor materialized again over the stairwell, turning to stone just as another scream from the guard was heard from below.

“I’m so sorry,” Rain said to the guard.

“He told me to tell you to stay strong and keep going. If our whole race is in danger, he was willing to sacrifice himself for your purpose.” A tear ran down his cheek.

Rain nodded, nearly in tears herself. Someone had died for her mission. There was certainly no turning back now.

The other guard clapped the teary-eyed one on the back. “Let’s go,” he said, emotions in check.

Link to the full-sized map

Link to Chapter 1 – Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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Rain moved backward at the last moment, and for a split second she felt the awful, piercing pain. But Dar’Quath hadn’t expected her move and fell forward, losing his concentration. Seizing her small window of opportunity, she ran to the back of the room to the door.

Rough hands on her shoulders spun her around and pushed her against the door. Dar’Quath forced his hand around her throat, not quite choking her, but not letting her look away from his eyes, dark pits of fear. With his other hand he pinned her arm holding the dagger to the door.

“I would kill you right now if I knew how to open this door,” he hissed. “You were able to make the handle. There’s no keyhole. Why can’t I pull it?” His eyes bored into hers, and she was unable to move. “Of course you wouldn’t know.”

He let go of her throat, grabbed her other arm, and flung her away. She hit the floor hard, skidding across the cold stone on her back.

When she regained her senses, she saw Dar’Quath had grabbed the handle and was pulling, bracing his leg against the doorframe.

“If you’ve been trying to open it, you’ve surely already tried that,” she said through gritted teeth, glad his eyes were not fixed on hers. Whatever he was up to, she didn’t want him to succeed, and tried distraction. “What does Myrna need the door for?”

“Why would I tell you?” he said. “And of course I’ve tried it already!” He kicked the door. “Blasted thing.” He ran his hands along the wood, searching for something, grumbling in frustration.

She stood up, sheathing her dagger. She had to do something, anything to keep him from completing whatever Myrna’s plans were. But what? She considered what her magic might be able to do.

He turned around and looked at her, glaring as if forming an idea. “You made the door and its handle appear—you must have the power to open it.”

Before she could decide how to deal with him, he grabbed her mind with such force that she felt she was going blind with pain. Her body moved on its own accord. Her feet dragged her forward. She felt rather than saw her hand touch the key-shaped door handle. Something probed her mind, her memories, making her feel utterly violated. The probing entity found her dream of this place. The entirety of it replayed in her head, sending waves of fear through her when the dreamwalker talked to her. Dar’Quath apparently hadn’t found what he wanted. More memories replayed—learning about her magic from Whiskey.

“There we go,” Dar’Quath said with a grim smile in his voice.

A burst of red energy was forced into her hands, and she felt herself pull the door, as if someone else were in her body, making the movements. Without much effort, she pulled the door open to the abyss of black nothingness.

The hold on her mind was released. She dropped to the floor and crawled a few feet away, trembling and defeated. It felt like she’d been laid bare, like he’d seen every inch of her body and mind, completely unprotected. She couldn’t move properly, couldn’t think.

Finally other memories came, of their own accord this time. Ones that hadn’t been found by Dar’Quath’s magic. Celena and Fergus. Whiskey. Shea. When they were all healthy, caring people. She held on to the memories and replayed them in her head. Myrna could take away the people, but she couldn’t take away the memories.

Dar’Quath was doing something for Myrna. No matter what it was, it was bad news. She couldn’t let him win, or hundreds of thousands of people would lose their minds and lives to the Soulblight. No one was here to help her except her memories. But she would lose them completely if she didn’t try.

Raising her head, she saw Dar’Quath standing before the open door. Now that she’d come to her senses, the utter emptiness of the doorway startled her. It seemed to suck in the torchlight, darker than the forest outside, darker than she remembered from the dream. But it wasn’t just dark. It was nothing.

Dar’Quath raised his palms toward the doorway and began chanting in a harsh language, his voice slowly growing louder. Clearly, he wasn’t just traveling.

Thinking of what he had just done to her, her anger began to build. All her common sense drained away, as if it was also drawn into the deep darkness of the doorway. A residual amount of red energy from pulling the door open flared up inside of her and began to grow. Her hands soon pulsed red and she had only one thought.

Make him pay.

She sent the energy forward, extending her arms to direct it at Dar’Quath. It shot like an arrow, a bolt of pure force, shattering his invisible shield with a loud bang. A shockwave hit her body and she staggered backwards to keep her balance.

Dar’Quath had stopped chanting and looked over at her with mingled surprise and anger. He seemed unharmed, but she knew his magical defenses were down. Bringing back her own anger, she threw another force of red energy at him and it hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. When she was sure he was still, she let the magic go and walked forward to see what had happened.

He was knocked out, for sure. It looked as if he’d been struck with a boulder, with his nose bleeding and limbs at an awkward angle.

Dread hit her stomach like a fist. It wasn’t that she felt pity for him—only sickening hate—but the power she had wielded gave her magic a new meaning. She stared at him in shock for a minute before she understood.

Her magic was a weapon.

Sure, she knew it already. But it was immensely powerful. Using magic like that felt dirty. Just what he’d been telling her.

She swallowed and tried not to look at his battered body closely as she dug in his pockets for her aegis. As soon as she had it, she backed away from his body, not wanting to know if he was dead. She couldn’t stomach it. He was out and not moving, that was all that mattered to her muddled mind. She looked up. The only way to go, now, was through the door.

The emptiness seemed to envelop her as soon as the thought crossed her mind. Picturing a crescent moon in her mind, she walked the last few steps to the door. Standing on the threshold and knowing she was going into the unknown gave her sudden fear and she nearly turned back. Knowing she had to push on, for everyone’s sake, she put on her aegis and clutched it for comfort. With the moon symbol firmly in her mind, she stepped forward into the void.

***

For a time, there was only thought. All that Rain felt, saw, and heard was nothingness. Time spanned seconds, and at the same time, eternity.

Straldun.

No voice spoke the name, as if it just appeared in her mind. Somehow she knew it was her destination.

First came the strangely heavy feeling of being in a body. Cold air sent shivers through her skin. Hearing came back next, the sharp cries of birds far above and the whistle of the wind over flat ground. An unusual stale smell seeped from the ground. The rest of her senses soon followed, and she finally opened her eyes.

Barren land spread out in every direction around her. The sun leaked hazily through strangely dark clouds overhead. Black vulture-like birds circled above, searching for small prey within the brittle brown grass below. She stood in a circular area about five paces wide, rimmed with red mushrooms speckled with white. Inside the circle, the grass was healthy and green. Looking straight up, she found she was standing under a stone archway that lay inside the circle of mushrooms. There was no sign of the dark void she had come from, and she suddenly worried she wouldn’t be able to get back.

She tried calling on her connection with the other Council members through her aegis, but she couldn’t sense anything. Since she was probably worlds away from home, it wasn’t surprising, but it deepened her sense of being alone.

Despair touched her when she stepped out of the ring of mushrooms, as if it came from the land itself. Looking around, there were no visible landmarks. The bleak brown expanse stretched on to meet the horizon in every direction. To keep from walking in circles, she chose to head towards the weak sun.

The dry grass crunched under her boots and small insects scurried away from her footsteps. The cries of the dark birds overhead added a sense of fear to the already desolate land. If the moon elves were here, she wondered if any were still alive.

***

After what felt like hours of walking, exhaustion and thirst crept up on her like a shadow come down from the dark sky. With nothing to look at except the birds that followed her overhead, the monotony sapped her energy and she found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. If only she had brought water.

But wait. She could create things.

She stopped walking and closed her eyes to focus, imagining a leather waterskin lying on the ground at her feet. The surge of energy to her hands was slower and weaker than expected, like thick liquid through a fine sieve. Using what determination she had left, she continued to channel the orange-colored energy through her to the ground, and opened her eyes to watch the waterskin appear before her.

Even with the surrounding gloom, her small success made her smile. She reached down to pick up the waterskin and opened the stopper. It was empty. She held the skin in her hands and tried conjuring water to fill it. Ever so slowly, water began to fill the skin.

Exhaustion soon overtook her and she stopped with the waterskin only a third full. It felt like she’d just created fifty wooden logs. Her knees gave way and she fell to the ground, the waterskin landing out of reach. Roused by the thought that her hard work could be lost, she crawled to the waterskin and pushed in the stopper before turning over on her back and staring at the dark sky, catching her breath.

Once she had enough energy to keep going, she took a sip of the water. It was warm and tasted somehow metallic, but it was enough to soothe her parched throat and help her go on.

***

As she continued, she watched the faint light of the sun weaken as it slipped behind the dark black clouds above. Without its direction, she would surely continue on in circles. After waiting for the sun to reappear with no luck, she stopped walking and surveyed her surroundings.

They were much the same as before, with the same dry, brittle grass under her feet and the barren plain stretching on to the horizon in all directions. The birds had left, yet there were still a few small rodent-looking animals scurrying through the grass. Before she panicked that there was nothing in this world but grass and a few animals, she examined the far-off horizon to make sure there were no landmarks in sight.

Off to her left, the terrain was the same, but she felt a strange pull, much like she’d felt near the Dark Wood and in the Hollow. She let it lead her onward.

The wind picked up, pulling at her cloak with its cold fingers. It intensified the stale scent of the land, forcing her to cover her nose with her sleeve. She put one foot in front of the other despite the aching exhaustion in her legs. Every so often, she took a sip of her water, being careful not to drink too much. But it was soon was nearly empty.

The sun did not reappear, and the sky steadily darkened until night settled over the land. Deeper despair swept over her as if the wind carried it, and she worried she was going nowhere. When she realized it was almost too dark to go on without a light, saw something on the horizon, in the direction of the pull.

A fire.

Filled with renewed vigor, she ran full speed toward the light. As she neared it, she realized it would be better to be careful and slowed down.

“… getting harder to find game these days.”

Two male elves sat facing each other around a small campfire. One had short black hair, but the other had red hair like hers, pulled back in a long ponytail. It relieved her immensely. She was in the right place. Not ready to betray her presence yet, she stayed far enough away that the darkness would obscure her. Their fire was burning perfectly straight, without logs; the flames were free-floating a few inches from the ground.

“It is. It feels as if something about this place is changing. As if… it wasn’t meant to last this long,” the red-haired elf said as he stared into the fire. “Just consider how much energy it takes, now, to make a fire like this. It didn’t used to be as much, even after we came to this godforsaken—”

She took a tentative step forward so she could hear better and stepped on a particularly dry patch of grass. It crunched loudly under her boot.

“Who’s there?” she heard the other elf ask. They squinted out into the night to try and see her.

As there was nowhere to hide or run to, she walked forward.

“I’m Rain,” she said, feeling thoroughly out of place, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I hope you’re not the black rain,” the red-haired elf said, chuckling at the joke he seemed to expect her to understand. When she only frowned, he smiled curiously. “I’m Maruck, This is Camaran. What are you doing out here so late? You should know it’s not safe.”

She realized they thought she was one of them, and decided to go along with the charade so she didn’t draw too much attention to herself. “I was… out for a stroll, and I think I’ve gotten lost.”

“A stroll?” Camaran said, almost laughing. “There’s not much to see out here.” He pointed at the waterskin in her hand. “You don’t happen to have any water left in that, do you? Maruck won’t ‘waste his energy’ and I’m thirsty.”

“I’m sorry, it’s empty,” she said, a little more curtly than she’d intended.

“Give her a break,” Maruck said. “You’re lost? We can take you back to the city if you’d like, we were just heading there.” He looked up. “It’s about time, too. The clouds look menacing.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you—”

Before she finished her thought, the fire vanished and the two other elves stood up.

“How far is it?”

“Not far,” Maruck said.

A small flame sprung out of Camaran’s palm and he let it float out in front of him so they could see. “Let’s go.”

Maruck started out first, followed by Camaran and then Rain. It was an awkward silence at first, but before long, Camaran let Rain catch up to him. “Where do you live?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you around. You’re a studying Sister, I expect?”

She had no idea how to respond without telling why she was really here. “Well, I don’t exactly live in the city…”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Then you live in the outskirts of Dolmeria?”

The name of the lake was the name of their city? She thought about evading the truth again, but decided she wouldn’t get anywhere that way. “No, I’m not from Dolmeria at all.”

At that, they both stopped walking and stared at her.

“How can you not be from Dolmeria?” Maruck asked. “I’ve never heard of anyone living out in the wastelands.”

“I came from Ellwood. Belmaeron.”

“We all did,” Camaran said. “What do you mean?”

“This place is called Straldun, right? I only arrived a few hours ago. I’ve been walking from that circle of mushrooms.”

Both elves were struck dumb. Camaran’s expression was fearful at first but turned to disbelief, and then amusement. Maruck stared curiously, almost in awe. Rain didn’t know what to think.

“Let’s get going,” Maruck said, and turned back around, continuing to walk. Camaran didn’t budge. “Cam, walk with me. We need to talk.” Reluctantly, the dark-haired elf drew his eyes away from her and caught up with Maruck.

Even though they whispered, she heard every word in the midst of the barren, quiet plain.

”She’s crazy!” Camaran exclaimed. “No one’s been able to go through that portal for a hundred years. How could she have come from Ellwood?”

“Cam. Think about it. Magic has been steadily growing weaker. Even the land is losing its nutrients for growing food, and we have to scavenge for weak animals out in the wasteland that are going hungry themselves. Something’s coming. Perhaps this is a sign.”

“A sign? You can’t be serious,” Camaran scoffed.

“You can’t deny it. You feel it, too.”

“But it may mean nothing,” Camaran said so quietly she could barely hear.

“And it may mean something. We’ll take her to the Crone.” Maruck left no room for negotiation.

Rain pretended she hadn’t heard it all, but was glad she was going to meet someone in charge. I’m more than a sign, she wanted to say. I’m here to find a way to get you out of this place.

***

In a short while, the lights of houses shone in the distance. Thin, gnarled, leafless, trees grew sporadically here, the only vegetation apart from the brittle grass. Eventually they came to a dirt path that led into the city.

The buildings on the outskirts were mostly made of wood, but as they advanced further, they appeared to be much older and mostly made of stone. The further they went the more detailed and intricate the buildings were. The path turned into a stone-paved road, and street lamps flickered as they passed in the darkness. They barely saw anyone walking the streets.

They passed inns and taverns, blacksmith shops and tailors, and many other shops she couldn’t name. But even in the night, it was clear that many of these places were abandoned.

She couldn’t help asking one question. “Why is it so empty?”

Both elves looked back at her. “The Crone can explain best,” Maruck said, and they continued on in silence. His bluntness kept her mouth shut the rest of the way.

***

Eventually, through the darkness, Rain saw an enormous building sitting in the center of a large plaza. As they neared the building, she figured they were at the center of the city; streets extended from the circular plaza in all directions.

The front of the building was intricately designed. Inside a border of runic designs were panels depicting the elves using their magic: creating food to feed their families, forging blades and armor in times of war, and calling upon a female deity when they were in need. In fact, the deity looked a lot like the Goddess at Lake Dolmeria. Above her, the roof pointed at the top with a thin spire extending from its tip.

“Here is the Temple of the Crone. Keep quiet while inside, unless spoken to.” Maruck let his little flame extinguish and pushed the door open.

Inside, torches lined massive pillars that extended upwards into arches. Fantastic art lined the walls in bright colors. Seats curved outward from the center of the building. The grandeur and the stillness of the place made it feel somehow holy.

Sitting in the center of the temple in a simple yet elegant large dark brown chair—a throne—was an elf-woman. As they approached, Rain noticed the elf had a distinct feeling of old wisdom about her, yet her face didn’t show signs of aging like a human’s would. She had long golden hair, and wore elegant white robes.

They stood before her on the stone floor, a few steps below the raised platform which her throne sat upon. Maruck bowed, Camaran followed suit, and Rain, not knowing what to do, did a clumsy curtsy.

“Welcome, Sister.” The Crone spoke with a voice that carried power.

“How did you…?” she asked, before she could stop herself. Was it that obvious she could wield innate magic?

Camaran scowled at her for speaking out of turn, but the Crone smiled. “Most moon elves have this magic, but I can also sense magic in others. It is a gift very few have, and it is one of the reasons I am Crone.” She stood up from her throne and stepped forward.

“There is no need to get up, Great Mother—” Camaran stammered.

“Nonsense. I sit in that chair all day long. I had to come closer to sense your depth of magic, Sister. In you I sense the ability to become quite powerful.” She smiled kindly, but her expression turned to a curious frown. She pointed at the chain around Rain’s neck, which held the aegis. The stone was tucked under her coat collar. “May I see it?”

Rain nodded and pulled the aegis out from under her collar.

“Fascinating. I haven’t seen one of these in… probably over a hundred years.” She looked into Rain’s eyes intently. “An aegis from the Council. Able to resist fear magic, bring comfort to the wearer, and help those wearing one communicate. Created when Myrna began growing in power.” She looked away, troubled. The frown vanished almost as soon as it appeared. “You are not from here, not from anywhere in Straldun.”

There was a pause, an invitation to speak.

“Yes, Great Mother,” she said, copying Camaran’s address of her. “I came from Belmaeron, in Ellwood. But I am originally from Willshire.”

The Crone’s expression was unreadable. “So you traveled by way of the Hollow?”

“Yes.”

“But Great Mother, it is impossible to travel that way,” Camaran exclaimed. “We’ve tried over and over, with no success. For a hundred years. Why is it different now?”

“Just because it doesn’t work from this side of the door, doesn’t mean it won’t work to travel from Ellwood to here. Besides, times are changing. A new era is dawning, soldier.”

Maruck gave Camaran a sidelong glance. “What did I tell you?”

“You’ve sensed something in the air, correct? We have now lived in this wasteland for about a hundred years. This new era… it is hard to read what will happen. Complete destruction or liberation from our banishment? It is hard to say.”

“Great Mother, about the banishment,” Rain said, hoping for more answers than she’d been given by Whiskey, “I am curious to know exactly how you came to be here. People speak of Myrna making you just vanish off the earth, but I know there is more to it.”

“I suppose no one in Ellwood knows if we are dead or alive?” When Rain nodded, she continued. “Myrna was a troubled young elf-woman born without innate magic. Fairly rare among our people. She made some bad choices, and fell for the darkness that is spirit magic. She used the Hollow, which has been in Ellwood for countless years, unused and forgotten, to send us to this world. It is likely she tapped into some great power source and created the world herself.”

She paced as she talked. “It is becoming ever clearer to me that this world was not made to sustain us forever. I sense a weakening in our connection to magic in this world. Why that is, I do not know.” She stopped pacing, standing once again in front of Rain. “That is not the only reason you have come to see me. What is your true purpose for being here?”

Rain’s thoughts instantly switched to thinking of Shea, and she felt a burst of emotion flood through her. She took a deep breath to keep from breaking down in front of the three elves, who listened intently. “I… I came because a horrible curse, the Soulblight, has begun to spread in Ellwood. It turns the animals into rabid monsters, and kills fairies and weaker creatures. It can give Myrna and her minions a way to possess whichever body they wish and force them to do things against their own will. I went to Lake Dolmeria and called upon the Goddess for help. I was led here, to your people, for the cure.”

“We are your people, too, dear one,” she smiled. “You are lucky indeed to be able to speak to the Goddess yourself. I have not been able to sense her presence for ever so long… one hundred years to an elf is not a long time, but here, it has felt like eternity. We have been separated from the Goddess’s light. Without it, our people have not just lost their powers, but lost hope. What I would give to be in Her presence once more…” She sighed. “But you came for a cure? The cure for a curse that takes over someone’s soul…” Pausing, she thought for a moment. “Our healers know quite a bit about curses, but only a few know about the ones involving spirit magic. You should see them for help.”

“So you can help me? You can find a cure?” she asked in astonishment. She almost broke down in tears in her relief.

“We probably can, yes,” she said, smiling at Rain’s exuberance. “I have great pride in our healers, though they have lately been overwhelmed with patients. You should visit them tomorrow. Faramond!” she called.

An elf-man came through a door in the back of the temple’s main room. The Crone addressed him. “Please make up a room for this Sister. Bedding, a meal, and everything.”

“Right away, Great Mother,” he said, smiling at all of them, and rushed back through the door he used a moment ago.

“You will stay in a room in the palace tonight, and meet me tomorrow morning. I will explain where the healers reside then,” the Crone said.

“Great Mother!” a voice yelled from the back of the hall. Faramond came dashing inside. “You must hurry to your palace quarters! The rain is coming.”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “Right away, Faramond. You may all come with me and stay in the palace rooms tonight. You two won’t be able to make it to your soldier’s quarters, I’m afraid.” She hurried to follow Faramond out through the back door, and Maruck urged Rain on, following the Crone. Camaran was the last of them through the door into the dark night. Along the way, Rain wondered what was so frightening about a bit of water.

Link to the full-sized map

Link to Chapter 1 – Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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Rain clutched Pan’s reins in a death grip as they descended the steep switchbacked path into the darkness below. Despite the rough bark of the torch, she held it tightly in her other hand. The incessant noise of hundreds of ravens chilled her to the bone as they hurried down the winding slope for the cover of the trees.

A small group of the birds seemed to be catching up to them. Pan nearly tripped as he rushed on, barely slowing at each switchback turn, needing no urging from Rain. It grew ever darker as they left the twilight above. The brightness of her torch against the darkness made it so she could barely see past the fire’s light. Just as she was sure the ravens’ close cries would render her deaf, they reached the bottom and Pan rushed forward between the trees she could barely see.

The noise died down as they left the cliff face behind, and Rain took a shuddering sigh of relief. Pan slowed finally to a walk, the apparent threat behind them, and Rain thrust the torch out in front of her with a shaky arm, observing her surroundings.

Large trees—not quite as thick as the ones above, but still immense—held out branches drooping with dank moss like long, reaching fingers. The air felt strangely warm, almost damp. Fungi grew on the tree trunks as far up as she could see, and a few strange white pipe-like plants sprouted from the forest floor. The loamy ground, covered in damp leaves and pine needles, made no noise as Pan treaded through the darkness. Thick tree roots protruded here and there, cradling small patches of mushrooms and rocks covered in moss and lichen. The silence lay around them like a blanket, muffling any noise. It was strange compared to the cries of the birds, mere moments ago.

Caemira moved her perch from Pan’s neck to Rain’s shoulder, lithely climbing up her sleeve. “Do you know where you’re going?” she whispered in her ear.

“No,” Rain said, her voice cracking. She swallowed to clear her throat. “I don’t have any idea.”

“Well that’s silly. Trying to get somewhere without knowing the way.” She chuckled, an odd sound in such a dark, dank place.

The sprite’s teasing began to annoy her. “I don’t suppose you would know the way to Arok’Amon?”

“Only you know the way, of course.”

“Of course,” she grumbled.

After a minute, she let her irritation go and wondered if the sprite had a point. She stared ahead into the gloom as they continued, not looking at anything in particular, focusing her thoughts inward. She figured the only way to Arok’Amon was by the same power that led her to the Dark Wood—a distant memory.

As soon as she began searching for the pull, she felt it. She let her hand holding the reins guide Pan in the right direction. From the corner of her eye, she saw Caemira give her a smug smile.

***

Her plan seemed to work until a few minutes later, when her torch illuminated an enormous fallen tree, right across their path. They stopped and Rain stuck out the torch, scouting the immediate area to see if they could go around the trunk.

Off to the right, near the giant mass of unearthed roots, she saw a path that went around the tree. But it went in the wrong direction. She stood in front of it, uneasy.

“Why don’t you go that way? The undergrowth isn’t too thick. After you find the other side of the tree, you might be able to find your way back to the right path.”

In the surrounding darkness, it was easy to imagine monsters lurking behind every tree, unseen pairs of eyes staring from behind ferns and bracken fronds. Before, she had kept her mind occupied with where they were going. Now, the fear of the danger she knew surrounded them began to sink in. She tightened her grip on the torch, terrified that it could be the only thing keeping them alive.

“Come on, I don’t think it’s wise to stay in one place for very long.”

It took a moment for Caemira’s words to filter through her fear, but eventually she nodded in agreement. She nudged Pan’s side and led him to the path around the fallen tree. The towering heap of roots they passed by loomed over her head, nearly twice her height. For a moment she couldn’t see the other side of them. She imagined the thick, dangling roots were arms and fingers about to grab her, and did her best to brush the thought away.

She peeked around the other side of the trunk and heard a rustling noise behind her. Startled, she swung the torch in the direction of the sound, off to her right.

It fell quiet as soon as the torch’s light fell across the ferns. “What was it?” she asked Caemira in a whisper, more to break the silence than to hear an answer.

“I don’t know, but I think we better keep moving.” For the first time, the sprite sounded truly scared. It set Rain’s nerves on edge.

Behind the fallen tree, thin undergrowth allowed them to travel in whichever direction Rain felt pulled, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “I almost thought we were—”

There was another rustling sound behind her.

She swung around in her saddle with the torch quick enough to see another fern frond bobbing up and down, as if something had brushed it. Turning back around slowly, with Pan still walking forward, she listened intently to see if it would return.

Sure enough, it happened again a minute later.

Determined to catch this creature, she stopped herself from instinctively turning around and scaring it away and instead stopped Pan and sat motionless, looking straight ahead. The rustling didn’t stop this time. She let the reins go and slipped her hand under her cloak, to her dagger. As the sound crept nearer, she slowly turned her head behind her to the left, careful to keep the torch still, and peered between the bobbing fern fronds. At first, she was confused. There was no beast of any kind that she could see in the bushes.

One set of fronds popped up out of the ground. She gasped—it wasn’t a beast following her. It was the ferns themselves.

The sounds of moving leaves erupted all around her, and soon they were surrounded by ferns walking on their roots, waddling and wriggling mushrooms and fungi, and small creatures that lived in the dark, cousins of squirrels and mice. For a moment she thought she saw birds around them, but realized they were bats. She swung her torch around frantically, and the plants and animals avoided the flames, but moved back to their positions when she moved the torch away. She calmed a little when she realized they weren’t attacking.

“What are they doing?” Rain asked Caemira in a whisper between ragged breaths. Panic swelled in her gut. She couldn’t grasp what was happening around her. Plants couldn’t move by themselves.

“I think… they want you to follow them.” Caemira said with a concentrated look on her face.

“We certainly can’t do that. What if they lead us to a trap?” Clicking her tongue, she urged Pan in the direction her memory told her to go. He stepped forward and the plants and animals moved out of the way of the horse.

After a minute, Caemira leaned into Rain’s ear. “I thought you weren’t going to go the direction they wanted.”

“I’m not—” she looked behind her to check and sure enough, the creatures were following them. She turned back to the sprite and they shared a worried look. “Are they saying why they want us to go this way?”

“No. I can’t understand any more than that. It’s hard to hear them.” She frowned at the trees around them as if she expected an explanation.

More creatures of the night came out of their homes or uprooted themselves and joined the crowd forming behind them. Dark-colored weasels and an odd cat-like creature—some kind of lynx, she thought—came out of the surrounding blackness. Rain told herself they were only plants and small animals—it was silly to be afraid. But she couldn’t keep from looking behind her and watching the quiet progression that followed them.

“Where there are small animals, there are larger ones,” Rain whispered.

***

A long while passed, and the exertion of the day began to catch up with her. According to Rowena’s words, they should be nearing the door, the real Hollow, by now. Where was it? All she could see was darkness and more trees. Her eyelids began to droop.

“Wake up or you’ll singe your horse’s mane!” Caemira said loudly into her ear.

“Oh!”

She snapped her eyes open and lifted the torch up, then switched hands to give her arm a rest.

“We should be there by now. I wonder…”

The animals began to squeak, chatter, and flap excitedly, and the plants rustled together noisily. They stopped moving forward and Rain instinctively pulled on the reins to slow Pan. She peered into the night, trying to detect what had agitated the creatures. A growing uneasiness unnerved her; something about this wasn’t right. The torch’s light wavered in her shaking hand. She inched Pan forward to see better in the gloom.

Before them stood the trunk of a massive tree, reminiscent of the giant pillars that held Belmaeron together. It had died and fallen apart years ago, so the highest the trunk reached was two or three times her height, the top jagged and broken. Two thick, lonely branches stuck out from either side of the trunk. A wide area around the dead tree was clear of all undergrowth and foliage, leaving only thick roots emerging from the soil.

Rain approached the tree hesitantly, stopping the horse once they were fully in the clearing. Examining the bark, she noticed it was clear of all fungus and lichen, unlike most of the other trees.

Why do you disturb my slumber?

She gasped, startled, as the angry voice rang in her ears. It sounded like the voice of an older man, but she knew there were none about. Peering at the tree before her, she searched in the bark for a mouth of some kind, but found none.

Caemira whispered in her ear. “See, I told you trees could talk—”

Silence! No one escapes my children.

A great shudder went through the tree, and the two lone branches began to move. With a loud creaking sound, they bent toward her, smaller tendrils of branches outstretched like fingers. Pan reared so suddenly that Rain fell out of her saddle and hit the ground hard, all the air rushing out of her lungs, the torch flung out of her hand.

She barely had a second to recover before the tree’s fingers scooped her up and clasped her tightly, arms bound to her sides so she couldn’t struggle.

You and your kind have been absent from here for too long. Why have you come now, when all hope is lost?

The branches lifted her up into the dark sky. She could see nothing but what the flame illuminated below. The torch had been hurriedly moved by the forest creatures to a place where it could not start a fire.

“Let me go!” Rain yelled when she recovered her breath, wriggling in the ever-tightening grip of the wooden fingers. She swallowed hard, trying not to think of how high above the ground she was.

How dare you show your face? For some reason, my children trust you. They did not get rid of you like they have the others. Tell me how you could possibly help, or I’ll kill you myself.

The tree’s branches tightened to the point where she had trouble breathing. She tried to answer, but could only croak.

“Release her! She can’t breathe!” Caemira yelled. The sprite sounded like she was being restrained as well, down on the ground.

The grip on Rain loosened only slightly, barely enough to talk. She considered everything she’d learned about the forest’s recent struggle for survival and the history of the moon elves and chose her words carefully, wondering if they’d be her last.

“Hope is not lost. I’m not sure what the moon elves have done to you, but it can’t be their fault. I’m here looking for them. I’ve come to find a cure,” she said, clueless as to how she would accomplish it. “The Soulblight has no doubt spread to your home here, in the Hollow.”

The sickening of some of my children is not the only problem we face. That is miniscule compared to the separation from our source of light.

The great tree’s anger seemed to be subsiding into sadness, as the constricting branches loosened a bit more. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the much needed air.

“I don’t understand.”

Lake Dolmeria has fallen to the phantoms. The light and energy produced by the moon elves, with the help of the moon and the power of the Goddess, has dwindled these long years to little more than a trickle. It is all that keeps my consciousness alive, and my brothers and sisters can no longer speak coherently.

She thought of how Caemira had said the trees were hard to hear, and understood. “I was told by the Goddess of Lake Dolmeria that the moon elves’ disappearance could be linked to the Hollow, which lies within Arok’Amon, the Great Tree.”

The tree was silent for a moment. You know my name?

“Arok’Amon?” Rain repeated, hope coming back to her. Perhaps they were closer to their destination than she’d thought.

Yes… a story for another time.

The second arm of the tree creaked and swung over to her, and its smaller branches intertwined to make a sort of palm. She was gently placed in the palm, and after stretching her sore limbs, she found it almost comfortable.

The Goddess and I share a bond that holds this forest of Ellwood together. Her power has dwindled with the absence of the moon elves. You must do what you can to bring them back, or much more will be lost than the lives the Soulblight takes.

“I will do what I must. Do you know where the door is, then?”

The tree groaned again, and the meager light from the torch showed the base of the tree opening and splitting to reveal a small passageway.

You may pass. Go, dear one.

The branches lowered, and she stepped back onto solid ground.

“Thank you… Arok’Amon. Great Tree.” She stumbled over the proper way to address the tree’s spirit. A sense of happiness seemed to come from the tree, as if it were laughing, though she wondered if it was her imagination.

She walked over and picked up the torch, noticing it would need a refueling soon, and then searched the immediate area for Pan. Where had he gone? A pang of worry bit her stomach.

Your steed is safe here. You will not need him or your supplies where you are going, and he will be here when you return.

“Thank you again,” she said, and though she knew it was wise to leave Pan behind, it felt like the last tie to her home would be gone. “Caemira?” she asked, wondering if she would want to come with her. It would feel much better to have a companion on the road ahead.

The sprite walked over to stand before her. “This is a job for you, alone. Silly,” she giggled.

May your footsteps fall true, moon elf. We await your return.

She nodded, taking a last look at the creatures and plants that had gathered around the clearing. Then she turned back to the base of the tree. Swallowing hard and holding the torch aloft, she ducked into the dark passageway, entering the bowels of the tree.

***

As soon as she left the opening behind, it closed up with a groan. Rain’s heart began to race as she thought of how alone she was. She examined the tunnel before her with the light from her torch.

The passageway hadn’t been used in years, as she expected. Cobwebs hung like the thin beards of old men. Old, hardened sap glistened in the firelight and spurts of moss grew where the walls met the ground. The ceiling was low, forcing her to bend her knees as she started downward. Her legs were soon sore from the effort.

When the slope steepened, she descended the steps molded out of the firm dirt ground. After two short sets of stairs, she came upon a third that continued much further. At the bottom of the staircase, she was relieved to find she could stand up straight. The ground had changed to a smooth stone floor, and the ceiling was a few feet above her head.

Extending her torch further into the gloom before continuing, she was struck with a stale, dusty smell that she thought she remembered. She extended her free hand and touched the wall, revealing a thick coat of dust. Just like in her dream.

She hurried forward and soon found an empty torch bracket hanging on the wall. Looking beyond it, she saw more brackets, but they contained finely crafted torches, strangely already covered with soaked pieces of cloth. If the dream had been correct, when she went forward, they would light as if by magic. It felt like a ridiculous test, but she wanted to make sure this place was the same as in her dream. After leaving her own crude torch in one of the first brackets, she walked forward a few steps into the darkness of the corridor beyond the second set of torches. They didn’t light. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, it worried her.

Instead of relying on her old torch, which she expected would run out of fuel soon, she used magic. Drawing on her power like she did with her first torch, she walked down the corridor making each torch she came upon flare to life. Though it would announce her presence like a campfire in a field, she didn’t expect anyone to be down here. The thought that someone might made her shiver. But the more light there was, the safer she felt.

***

Soon the echo of her footsteps seemed to change, and she saw she had entered the cavernous space from her dream. In this room would be the door.

The darkness of the far side of the room encroached on the torches’ light, and she had the urge to go around the entire room and light all the torches to illuminate the dark corners. She went along the wall to her right and lifted her hand to light the first torch in the room.

“Hello, Rain.”

A familiar voice whispered in the darkness, breaking her concentration.

“Damien?” she gasped, whipping around but not seeing into the blackness.

“Not anymore, pretty one. Dar’Quath, if you please,” the voice said, sneering.

Rain lit the torch in front of her. In that instant, she heard Dar’Quath snap his fingers and the rest of the torches lit all at once, nearly blinding her. The same images she saw in her dream, both brilliantly beautiful and frightening, surrounded her. A great door, with the handle she had created from her dream, was at the far end of the room.

Damien, wearing the same black robes she’d seen him in before in the forest, stood in front of the door.

“You were the one that left the note in my dream?” she asked in disbelief. Her voice echoed and magnified in the chamber, as if she had shouted.

“Who else?” He grinned and then took a long, sweeping look at the paintings on the walls. “Magnificent, isn’t it? Powerful magic was needed to create this room, and the hidden door it protects.”

“How did you get in here?” she asked angrily, advancing toward him. She stopped a few paces away. “Arok’Amon couldn’t have let you in.”

“That rotten old stump that guards the entrance? He and his children’s minds are so far gone that his mind was quite easy to control. I slipped in unnoticed.”

She clenched her teeth at his callous remark. “What about entering the forest? I thought your power would be too weak here.”

“Not anymore. The shields around the forest have weakened enough that I could enter. Fear not.” He gave another chilling smile.

Rain reached over and felt her left side for the dagger sitting under her cloak. She slipped her hand under the thick fabric of her cloak, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice, yet dearly wanting to turn and run.

Damien—now Dar’Quath—watched her without blinking. He reached into his pocket and took out a small glass vial, throwing it to the ground. The glass broke and a dark cloud wafted out of the shards. Dar’Quath whispered a short spell and the cloud became a pair of dark, shadowy hands.

The hands flew through the air towards Rain and she whipped out her dagger. The blade couldn’t pierce the shadow. The hands grabbed for her aegis, and when they touched it, the chain and stone turned to shadow. The hands pulled the shadow-chain through her neck like it was some kind of ghostly substance. It didn’t feel like mist, how people said it felt like walking through a ghost. It hurt.

The hands whisked over and gave the aegis to Dar’Quath, then vanished. The aegis returned to normal.

Before Rain could react, Dar’Quath’s gaze darkened and turned black. The pull was so strong she couldn’t turn away. She tried but failed to resist an unseen force that made her sheath her dagger.

“It was difficult trapping that spirit, but necessary,” he said. “We had to think of some way to get rid of this protection.” Still not taking his gaze from Rain, he put the aegis in a pocket.

His words rang through her head, so loud and invasive that she couldn’t think. “You were a danger to the world the moment you were born. Your magic is dirty and imbalanced. You don’t know what I mean?” He raised his eyebrows. “Only certain of your kind get innate magic. The rest of the moon elves, and everyone else, are forced to work hard for their powers. Innate magic is itself an injustice.” He spoke as if the ideas were ingrained into his mind, as if the words he spoke were affirmations someone had taught him. “But the work is worth it. Sprit magic is the power that will advance this world past all others. The moon elves kept students from reading and studying these secrets. Discrimination. Greed.”

As his voice grew louder in her head, each word was a bolt of pain. Fighting the magic that had taken her mind in its grip, one memory stood out from the rest and helped her let out one word.

“No!”

She shrieked, and it was unexpected enough that the power dominating her mind slackened for a short second. She began to talk, the only way she could think of to keep the dark power at bay.

“Making people lose their minds is a sick idea of advancement! You and your Wingmaster friends killed my parents! Is that how you plan to convince people to join your cause?” The image of them dead on the floor flooded her head and filled her with rage. “You’re a sick creature, and from what I’ve learned of spirit magic, it’s darker than any sort of magic, elemental or innate. You don’t have any chance of convincing me.” On impulse, finding she could move, she swiftly drew her dagger and lunged for him.

She ran into an invisible shield. In an instant she was on the ground, crying out in agony. The force she had exerted had sent her dagger flying and a spasm of pain rolled through her body from the fall.

That break in concentration let his dark mind enter hers once more, and his words filled her mind with pain, sharper and more agonizing than before.

“You’re alone. No one is here to save you. Your parents fell to their fate, chose it themselves. Dear, dear, Shea, he’s not here to save you either. His weak mind fell to the—Soulblight, as you call it—and he follows me now. You want to ‘save him’? He’s beyond saving, little girl. Give in. He doesn’t love you anymore. In fact, I’m not so sure he ever did.”

While he paused in his speech, Rain thought about the times when she had traveled with Shea. He was more than kind and courteous; he was a good friend, and possibly more than that. With sheer force of will, she let only one thought fill her mind. Shea. I love you.

She found the strength to stand up and found Dar’Quath had his hands pressed to either side of his head, with his face screwed up in pain.

This was her chance to be free of him. But what could she do? Her dagger couldn’t pierce him. She didn’t know how to use her magic to inflict pain, and even that might not touch him. She looked at the door at the back of the room. Could she trick him into another world? It would be a way to be rid of him, but she had no idea if it would work, or where she could send him. He might even know how to travel, and just come right back, wherever he ended up. She scrambled to pick up her dagger again.

Dar’Quath seemed to be coming around. He glared at her, but she noticed his rage was blended with confusion. “How did you… it doesn’t matter,” he muttered angrily. Yelling, he lunged forward, throwing himself at her mentally and literally.

This time she was ready.