The world was a whirl of motion as Hector fell down once more to the grassy earth with a hard thud, sprawling to look at Shael’s imperious face above.

“You focus too much on the weapon, not the wielder,” she snapped with impatience. “How can you hope to defeat the faceless one?”

“Queen Lyssa,” Hector gritted his teeth, propping himself up. “Will fall at my hands, and my hands alone.”

“Not from the way you wield that staff, human,” Shael said curtly after stabbing Hector’s gut in a backhanded motion.

“What is the point of learning how to use this weapon? Do you not use swords?” Hector flung the staff to the ground in anger.

“You will first use the staff, then move on to training sticks. You must learn how to use your distance and reach. Then the sticks will teach you timing and speed.” Shael said as if explaining to a child. “Now, do you wish to face me with the staff, or without?”

Hector gingerly grabbed the staff and set himself in the wide stance she was stringent in him keeping, lest he test her swift discontent.

“Shael is one of the most skilled Wardens in the Elkin, if not all the sylven Tribes,” Celdan had said. “From what I have gathered in your mind, the Queen has learned of the sylvan way of fighting. If you are to defeat her you must know every move she is capable of. It is for the best you have not ascended. You must learn how to fight a faster and stronger foe, for that is the Queen and more. She will not just attack you with her blade, but that can be planned for after you have ascended.”

Hector feinted a thrust with his roken wood staff, to which Shael stood unflinching. They circled round each other, staves helds in each of their hands. Hector brought his weapon down in a swing to which Shael nimbly stepped to the side, but he brought his foot up and propelled Shael back with the ball of his foot against her hardened stomach.

Very good, Conrad appeared beside Shael, hands clasped behind him. Your body seems to have taken full synchronization. Your reflexes are now faster than any unenhanced human, though not by a great margin.

Hector followed with a sweeping strike at Shael’s feet but was blocked with one of her arms looped around her staff and the other hand free to shove Hector back in turn.

Go back from whence you came, Hector Voiced. Shael proceeded to whirl her staff around both hands in a blinding show of martial skill and in his confusion she sweeped him to land on his bottom with a pained grunt.

I would, but it seems you’re getting the shit knocked out of you, Conrad said drily. Allow me to show you. Conrad walked through Hector and disappeared.

It was as if Hector was not in control of his own actions. As if he were possessed, Hector’s body felt lighter and faster. Every movement he made was ruthlessly efficient, every step necessary for what would happen to Shael.

In an instant Hector grabbed her staff to which she moved to throw him off, and frowned when he did not budge. One of his hands cupped the back of her neck and then the next hand, and he raised his knee explosively to her gut. Shael let go of her weapon to use both hands to ward off his blow; once, twice in succession.

Hector twisted her neck downward, forcing her to rotate to one side as he tripped her and slipped his arm underneath her chin, in which Shael tucked to block his strangulation. They both lay on their sides on the ground; Hector searching for an opening, Shael struggling desperately to escape his grip. He took the knuckle of his thumb and used it to wiggle and make space through her violent resistance, eventually gaining hold of her neck.

Shael snarled and searched for Hector’s face with a clawing hand, but he merely moved to her other shoulder and held one of her arms in a leg lock. Shael’s eyes bulged in fear, and her free hand darted to hold with her other hand. Giving a throaty growl she stood up with Hector’s legs still holding onto her arm, tendons in her neck standing out with the exertion.

Hector let go and extricated himself out before she could slam him down to the ground, pushing himself off with his feet away from Shael. They stood, wary of the other’s next move.

“You are a fine warrior,” Hector’s mouth moved, his words not his own. “I did not know your people still knew such techniques.”

“And you as well,” Shael said with a begrudging respect, her amber eyes narrowed into sharpened slits. “Are you the spirit that lies with Celdan? Has he given you to the boy?”

Hector nodded and gave a short bow.

“So, you live within the boy as well. Leave him be, he needs to learn himself.”

Hector jerked himself back.

“Never do that again,” he snarled, but Conrad did not answer.

Shael jaw was tight, her face taut with a strange emotion. She motioned for Hector to follow. “Come.”

They tread through the twisting grass paths surrounded by the bright turquoise blooming flora and green soft leaved fauna. Dappled leaves drifted gently down, scattered with the winding breeze.

Sylven they walked by nodded or touched their heads with their fingertips and gave their open palm in offering. Shael had told Hector it was a saying: Of one mind. All sylven supposedly were gifted with the Voice, able to converse with each other and the forest itself, though it required to be in touch with the other.

A rather lesser version compared to man’s vast range of connection with the Voice, but it was made up for with the entirety of the forest, of which the sylven used to track any life that strayed into their domain. For the trees were the tethers to which the sylven used as their conduits, and from what Hector had understood were responsible for nearly their every way of life.

The day’s light was dimming, and soon only the glow of the mushrooms illuminated the forest floor. The closed flowers shone with its turquoise hued light, bright yet soft, not blinding as the suns. Some unfurled their petals, and Hector watched as pollen floated out, an amber glowing haze that he learned to avoid as he sneezed violently soon after passing through such a cloud.

Shael reached through a mossy covering of the tree, her arm engulfed until she walked forward and disappeared into its depths. Some of the trees were not shaped, simply bridging with their branches to other hollows. Blind to the Voice Hector was always escorted ever since by Shael. She made for bleak company, never starting a conversation and keen on ending one he ever tried to start.

As honored guests they each had their own hollow in Celdan’s tree. When Hector moved to enter his own room, of which he remembered was after the hundredth and seventeenth step, Shael shook her head and said, “Follow me.”

They made their way up the spiral wood staircase until she beckoned into another moss covering.

“Why am I here, Shael?” Hector asked.

“You have bested me,” Shael said, as if in sadness. She unshouldered her bow and spear. “Whether by the spirit which lives within you, it is still by your hands. I have never been bested in a duel. For that was a duel, a test to see who would be a victor closest before death.” As she spoke her clothes fell to the floor. “You are worthy by Ravshi, for me to be your mate.”

Hector stood, stunned as he took in her naked body. Her skin, olive green, was slick with the sheen of sweat from their sparring. Her eyes shone bright in the dim light, amber and alluring. Long ink green hair draped across one shoulder, flowing to her arm and covering nothing of worth seeing. The softness of her jawline led to the delicate knots of her neck that quivered from his stare, her willowy neckline angling gently down.

Her bare breasts sloped heavy, dotted darker green below. They were fuller than Terese’s; her body leaner and thicker than the lithe woman, yet curved and flowing and unmistakably feminine. Her flat segmented belly rippled with her breath as she stood with sudden delicateness. Her legs were sculpted works that contoured with toned muscle. Between her thighs was darker green hair, trimmed to a downward triangle. She was verdant. She was beautiful. She held her head high and proud as he witnessed her.

Hector felt a faint stir of desire in his loins, growing and rising. He looked away with guilt. What was he thinking? A race beyond his own, making another half breed? Despite the otherworldly color of her skin she looked human. More human than most humans looked. But still...

“I- I cannot, Shael,” he said gently.

“Do you not find my body pleasing?” Shael asked, confusion forming and quickening to anger, “I give myself to you and you reject me?”

“You do not even like me, do you Shael?” Hector asked in kind. “This is just one rule of your code, a creed of your people. If I was not worthy of Ravshi would you even think of… of mating with me?”

Shael frowned, her brow furrowed. “It is not for you or me to decide. The tradition of Ravshi demands that our offspring hold the best chance of survival with the strongest. The strongest is you. Unlike your kind we do not reject coupling with other beings. We accept all forms of life.”

“So, would you couple with a troll then, if it were stronger than you?”

“Do not be glib with me, human.” Shael turned her back to him to dress. Her bare defined back showed an intricate white tattoo of a spear reaching from her tailbone along her spine to her neck between twin elk antlers spanning akin to wings. “We know of what you have done to our kind within your realm, and we would accept the alfarr with open arms.”

“How can you just accept such things?” Hector waved his arms out. “This tradition may have served a purpose before when you were a warring people but you do not need to follow such a strict way of choosing who you mate.”

“Insolent shivardthei!” Shael spat out. “Get out! You speak as all humans, savage, ignorant and intolerable to our ways! Get out!”

Hector promptly left and headed skyward, to Celdan’s hollow. Three hundred and seventy six steps later he found his forefather stretched out onto a moss draped curved couch, listening to the lucid ethereal music of the Old World relic.

“Ah, Hector. What is it my boy?”

“Shael offered herself to me.” Hector stated. “She deemed me worthy by Ravshi.”

“And how was it? Don’t tell me…” Celdan murmured, aghast. “You rejected her?”

The music cut out and Celdan stood up.

“You must understand, for Shael to offer herself to you meant that she would be mated to you. For life. Sylven mate for life, Hector. She was willing to sacrifice her lineage for her people and be entirely devoted to you, seeing your strength and how it would solidify her people’s ties with mankind.”

“So what? I should just accept her offering of marriage and never marry a woman? How could you be with a sylvan, Celdan? After everything you’ve done?” Hector sat down on a curving chair.

The old man handled another chair by the crutch of one hand to face him. "Muriel, my mate, was the first sylvan to glean my mind. She saw all that I had done. But she understood my goal, in how I believed in its justness. The sylven act as a collective mind you see. They did not seek revenge, for they knew others would only take my place. Instead of bringing the fair justice of ending me, they sought for me to understand the past ways of mankind. To break away from the cycle of bloodshed would start with one of its bringers.” Celdan gave a sharp laugh. “They first locked me inside a dwelling of the mythic, our ancestors. I was held there for days, weeks even? I cannot say. Trapped underground and possessed by Conrad, my new companion, to survive.”

“There are works of the mythic here and you have not told me?” Hector took a sharp intake of breath. “What secrets do you deem me worthy to hear?”

“I merely follow your wishes. You shun Conrad in his teachings of the past, you do not seek that which must be understood. This is not a battle for the Empire, my boy. This is a war for humanity’s soul, and will lead to our way of life in the future. Should you accept this you must understand what led to our greatest defeat at our own hands, and usher in a new age of enlightenment.”

“So, you ask me to rule humanity and guide them with your teachings?”

“No.” Celdan said with a curt finality. “You must begin the groundwork that will outlast your rule. Even if you live a thousand years, you will eventually perish. During that time, who is to say you were a just ruler? A tyrant even? No, humanity cannot be guided by one individual, or even a group of individuals. It must learn to right itself, as a collective whole. Of one mind. Of one people.”

“What you are saying… that there be no ruling authority? Who would rule then? There would be chaos.”

“Nonsense,” Celdan admonished. “Take the sylven as proof. They live free. Despite their individuality within their Tribes none consider themselves superior to the other. They each form a whole of their society, equal in judgement and privilege. What if you gave the people, the commonborn, the right to represent themselves in your rule?” He held out a hand to quiet Hector. “You know the mythic did not choose you as superior. There is no morality to debasing another being.”

Hector frowned. “As someone once told me, power turns men savage with it. The mages will fight to keep their authority. Giving the people a say in rule would undermine it. Can you, or any of the sylven stand before the Aristocracy?”

“I know full well how men hold power close, their hearts blackened by it. Sometimes what you deem evil among us believe that they are the most just. The Aristocracy is built upon a mountain of lies. Lies that permit you to take all that folk hold dear in the verdict that you are superior to the other; morally, physically, perpetually. It must be destroyed not physically, but taken down by realization of the people. You win over the people, Hector, the common folk, and you win the eternal war." Celdan stood up.

"Let us speak of this another time. All this talk has whet my appetite, and you are not going anywhere anytime soon, my boy. And please, you must apologize to Shael for your misgiving. In private of course, the next day, after she has calmed down. The sylven are a noble, and proud race. She did not mean to entrap you in a union with her alone.”

Hector mulled over his words. “What does shivardthei mean?”

Celdan gave a wry smile. “It is the newborn of the mothrai, or moths as you know them. A worm, though meant also as spineless.”

“I see,” Hector said lamely.

“Come, let us see what my family has cooked up for the second meal.”