When Tarica awoke, she sensed something was terribly wrong; a vast amount of tension had accumulated overnight. She pushed aside the mat of petals that served as her blanket and ventured to the hollow to look outside.

The trees outside were swaying even though there was no wind. The animals and birds were silent, so a new arrangement of grating sounds was easily detected. It was perhaps the trees speaking to each other. The constant swaying created a cacophony of screeches and rasps that set Tarica’s nerves on edge.

After Tarica made her down the massive trunk through a series of vines, she found Florena sitting at the base of the Great Tree. Though there was a slight grimace on the queen’s face, she stroked the root beneath her feet, like she was trying to comfort it.

“What is happening?” asked Tarica, allowing the unknown to lace her voice with fear as she glanced at the trees. It felt as if the whole forest was ready to fall on top of her.

“Nothing,” assured Florena as she placed her hand on the tree’s trunk, talking to both Tarica and the tree. “The trouble has already passed.”

“What trouble?” inquired Tarica. She could not imagine what would be frightening enough to scare the whole forest. She was not sure if the trees could feel fear, but that seemed to be the emotion they were trying to express.

The queen remained composed, maybe the slightest hint of panic might be disastrous, while she explained. “A stranger was discovered last night. She made it halfway here before she was driven out.”

“Is that all?” inquired the Dark Elf, trying not to raise her voice. Tarica was relieved that it was something so small, yet she remained uneasy because of the trees’ reaction to the intrusion. “Why are they behaving this way?”

“They are...upset. As far as we know, no one has ever penetrated that far into the forest. It is something new to them. Of course, they are afraid. Because they are frightened, they are also angry at the intruder,” Florena explained before looking Tarica in the eyes. Her almond eyes seemed to look right into Tarica’s soul. “They are convinced someone is after me.”

The trees were not as peaceable as Tarica had come to think they were and her original dire impression of them from her homeland returned to the forefront. They possessed at least an animalistic intelligence that was keen enough to understand anger. If they could feel rage, it was only natural for them to want to lash out at whoever threatened their queen. Seeing Florena soothe the forest as she did made Tarica wonder how much more aggressive the forest would be without the queen’s calming influence.

Tarica looked away for a moment. She sympathized with the plants. If she thought someone was after those she loved, she would be troubled as well. “Where did the trespasser come from?” Florena pressed her hand firmly against the trunk and closed her eyes as if waiting for a signal from the tree. “She came from the west.”

Tarica, not willing to lift her eyes, looked at the ground. “Are you sure? That is Malendar’s land. Surely, that is wrong. They must mean the east, or they may have mistaken a Light Elf for an impostor.”

“There is no mistake,” assured Florena without a trace of doubt. “The intruder came from the west. They are acquainted with the Light Elves and would never mistake one of Malendar’s elves for a trespasser if one came in peace.”

“But they are wrong,” replied Tarica, though she still looked away. “You are not the one the intruder is after. It is obvious that the target is me.”

Someone must have followed Tarica. It was the only thing that made sense. Someone must have already entered Malendar’s realm and learned of the course of Satros’s skyship. It was almost a relief that it had happened. If someone was after Tarica, at least Malendar was safe from whoever it was.

“We can not be sure of that,” reasoned Florena, though she seemed convinced that Tarica was in all likelihood correct. The words the queen said were a pretense, meant to make the Dark Elf feel secure. Not even the queen’s composed bearing could hide that from Tarica. “And even so, there is no need to worry. Now that we have been made aware of the intrusion, the sentries will patrol more often. This remains the safest place for one who seeks refuge.”

“You said “she”,” recalled Tarica. “They saw the intruder—what did she look like?”

Florena shook her head side to side. “Please understand, the plants do not perceive the world with the same senses that we possess. They can not see, so they feel.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about the intruder? If not how she appeared, maybe how she carried herself,” requested Tarica.

“I will try,” promised Florena as she placed her ear against the trunk and listened. Several moments passed before the queen explained, “She had a weapon. That is why she was noticed.”

“What kind?” urged Tarica, praying she would not hear it was the kind an assassin would use.

Florena grimaced, unsure how to translate what the tree expressed. “They say that she had a blade sheathed over her heart.” She sat upright and gazed at Tarica. “Does that bear any significance?”

“No,” lied Tarica as her heart almost came to a stop. “It sounds like she has a blade strapped across her chest, but that is common.”

The Forest Elf’s body language suggested to Tarica that the queen did not believe her, but chose to prod no further. “I am afraid I will not be able to join you today as hoped. Something is about to happen, but I am not sure what it is. The intruder is just proof of a greater blight. I am afraid that I will be unable to join you for any engagement until all is settled.”

Tarica nodded and said, “I understand,” before she walked away.

She was not sure where she was going. All she really cared about was being alone. Many years ago, Ordelas had appointed Hílainno to be the first assassin. Now Tarica feared that the original assassin was the one who had entered the forest. Although Tarica’s sister-in-arms had been driven out, and there was little chance that Hílainno could strike so deep inside the sanctuary of the forest, Tarica looked around expecting to see a familiar silhouette.

Tarica was not certain how swift Hílainno was across long distances. Her approach was her own lack of traits expected of an assassin, moving about like anyone else before closing the gap in a single step. Florena stated that the intruder made it halfway in, could Hílainno really have left the forest in a single night?

Hílainno's most interesting technique in Tarica’s opinion was Hílainno’s ability to maximize the distance travelled with a single step. She could move from one side of a room to another to match how anyone else might with a running leap. However, that was for short distances and might not correlate with moving through a forest.

In her heart, Tarica wanted to see Hílainno, but she was not sure how her sister-in-arms would react if they met. Tarica trembled but tried not to shake as fresh surges of terror chilled her bones. A single chain from her past could drag her back home.

***

Eliseo and Sinker insisted on keeping to their scheduled arrangement with Tarica. Even though she desired seclusion and could have easily hid from them, she spared them the trouble. The two were tenacious and could have spent the whole day hunting for her, so she agreed to go exploring. A number of days passed in a passionless blur. Her ears half focused on the two’s conversations while her eyes watched for her sisters once more.

“As nice as this all is,” Eliseo bantered. “I do so crave some boar right about now.”

“I would say the same,” Sinker agreed.

“This is not so different from my normal diet,” Tarica joined as if to confirm to them she was there as she did with many small meaningless discussions. “Though if it was a festive occasion, I would appreciate some venison.”

Her lips formed a thin smile, but her heart was not in it. The fragrant blooms did not appeal to her, and she paid little attention to her companions’ conversation. Sinker’s forehead wrinkled when he noticed her gloomy mood. When Eliseo finally noticed the change in Tarica’s demeanor, he bombarded her with questions she did not want to answer. Tarica left abruptly and escaped to her room where she hoped to rest.

When she arrived, the walls of her bed chamber wove themselves together to provide privacy. Yet after she lay down, she did not sleep peacefully. Tarica struggled to breathe and felt as if she had been swallowed by a beast. The fruit that grew on the ceiling glowed and cast darting shadows that lurked about.

As she tossed and turned, she remembered how her king suffered from sleep deprivation. She stared at a wall and tried to ignore the sounds she heard. She knew she was safe from Hílainno, but what about Ordelas? If Hílainno knew she was there, then the king would also know.

Her watch for her sisters continued into her sleep. Every night their phantoms chased her in her dreams. Sometimes they were so real that she thought they occurred when she first woke. At least once she thought herself awake to find Elda combing her hair then another time Syicho holding a string near her neck. Her times of imagining scenarios against her victims inverted and she was now the target and the infinite number of ways her sisters might react played out in her mind.

It rained exceptionally hard on a particular day, so Eliseo and Sinker chose not to venture through the mud. So she visited with them in Eliseo’s quarters in the Great Tree. It was a strange mix of orderly and disorderly, he stretched his garments over the plants that served as furniture so it at least looked a little like home.

Tarica kept expression relaxed, so the human and orc did not ask many questions. At noon, she heard a strange noise in the forest. It sounded like wind blowing through the trees, only louder. She asked her companions about the racket, but Eliseo dismissed her alarm by saying, “Unusual things happen here all the time.”

The following day, Tarica still felt uneasy and could not stop thinking about the noise in the forest. She looked down and with her elven eyes caught sight of the queen’s red hair. Queen Florena stood on the ground in the middle of a mesh of trees that served as a courtyard, caught between a pair of roots that served as walls. Tarica saw kavuidens gathering around their matriarch, and wanting to hear and see what was happening, she climbed down and took residence in a smaller tree and hid inside its branches. The group spoke to each other with low voices until a small kavuiden without any distinct arms that looked akin to a pine tree arrived.

Florena squared her shoulders and asked, “Pine, why have you called this council?”

The one known as Pine answered, “I sensed it as it passed our shoreline. It is yet another ship of metal, heading to the north from the Dark Kingdom with haste.” Florena frowned when she heard the news.

“Another one in such short time? That can only mean one thing,” decided Florena. The kavuidens clustered together, their moans concealing the specifics of their conversation. Tarica only heard nervous humming and a few muffled words. Without notice, the kavuidens dispersed and the conference ended abruptly.

After Florena was left alone in the center of the courtyard, she looked at the tree Tarica was sitting in and asked, “How much did you hear?”

Tarica’s lips tightened before she answered. She felt like a child caught doing something. Realizing childish behavior was futile, she climbed down and sighed, “I overheard something about the north.” Tarica examined the queen’s expression. “What is the matter? You seem troubled.”

At first, Florena silently observed Tarica. “Do you know what makes Ordelas so dangerous?”

“He is violent and insane.” Tarica said what she imagined anyone else would say, trying not to think of her lord.

“That is true,” agreed Florena. “But there was something else. He can be charismatic to those blind to his madness. He defiled the dragons and now they are the world’s enemies.” Tarica was only a child when dragons were still commonplace in her homeland. “He has his commonaders as well. What makes him dangerous is that he does not stand alone.”

Dragons had all but vanished from the world. After the Great War, they were hunted by the unified forces after Ordelas’s downfall with some survivors migrating to the west where they troubled the humans and eventually slain.

Her memories of the creatures who had once ruled the land were hidden in the shadows of her mind long ago. She remembered Ordelas’s prophecies. He promised his followers that the dragons would come again. The driving ambition and object of secrecy among the Dark Elves was the long-awaited return of the dragons. The Dark Elves would search for the dragons until they were found and set free. They waited with anticipation for the right time to release the beasts against their enemies. “It has been centuries; surely they are dead by now,” Tarica reasoned, though she was not convinced.

Florena knew details that Tarica did not. “Have you ever heard of a dragon dying from old age?”

After she considered the idea, Tarica only had one word to say. “No.”

“Neither have I,” affirmed Florena. She crossed her arms. “As far as I know, time does little to cause their bodies to decay. I assume they live so long that time carries little consequence or they are immortal like us.”

“How did the allies conceal them in the first place?” Tarica wished to demand. There was some lingering outrage, if there was someone to be blamed if the dragons remained a threat, it would be laid upon the one before her. Florena had been instrumental during the Great War, if Tarica remembered correctly. The queen was responsible for what happened to the dragons when the war was over. “Why would the allies spare them when they could rise again?”

Something clawed at her heart, slivered up her spine, scratched at her mind. She was supposed to be safe but her home was coming to her. First her sister, if Tarica’s suspicions were correct, her king’s ambitions was soon to come to pass and her home would come to all.

“I can not explain that right now,” Florena whispered. The queen began to walk away, but she turned back to look at Tarica. “Though you dwell peacefully among us, you still consider yourself to be a Dark Elf. To share that secret with you would break my oath as long as you refer to Ordelas’s realm as your home.” The queen’s words cut deep, but Tarica was more concerned about Florena than her own nature being acknowledged.

As Taricalaid in bed that night, she heard Ordelas’s voice. “It is coming. The dream you turned from will come to pass!” Tarica put her hand to her chest and struggled to breathe when the disembodied voice ransacked her mind and tormented her soul. “The Heart of Flames shall beat again,” her king lovingly hissed into her ear.

***

She was drowning in red. She was trembling and curled in the fetal position, surrounded by crimson ichor like a child waiting to be born. Knowing her entire being was soaked in sin fed her terror even more. Determined silence wished to consume her very essence, but there was nothing she could do.

If not for the hand that reached down to her from above, she would have remained in a frightened state of stillness. Desperate for salvation, and without reservation, she grasped the hand that she hoped would pull her out of the pit she was in. She did not notice or care that the hand of her savior was colder than the world surrounding her.

She fought her way to the surface and slumped on the ground where she coughed out the wickedness that filled her body. Black ooze dripped from her lips like mud. The world around her was dark yet vibrant with color. It was like someone had blended countless paints to create a haze of mystifying hues. She stood up, gulping for fresh air, and looked at the elf in front of her. Her relief vanished when she realized her rescuer was Ordelas.

The king smiled when she gazed into his eyes, which were so dark that they glistened. A heavy, red cloak was tied around his neck with silver thread. There was no light, yet his pristine armor shined brightly.

After looking inside the pit, he asked, “Now that you are free, what will you do? Will you continue to run away? Is there anywhere you can go that you will be happy?”

She reached out for his neck. His words were like daggers cutting into her soul. Stop talking, she silently pleaded. Just stop talking.

He noticed her outstretched hands. “So, that is what you will do. Death is who you are. Of course, it is your answer.” He walked closer and she wrapped her fingers around his throat. Still, he did not resist. He hugged her and whispered, “It is not so terrible to die in your arms. Just be true to yourself.”

She pushed him away and gripped his neck with both hands. “Please, stop talking!” she screamed as she strangled him. He did not struggle. He simply looked at her with resignation and disappointment in his eyes. “If you wish to silence me, make it so.” He did not open his mouth, but she heard his voice in her mind. “You have that power. You are the assassin I valued most. Though I no longer have command over you, it is still your right to take my life. Just tell me why you would want it.”

“You want a reason?” yelled Tarica as all the uncertainty and fear she felt turned to rage. Certain words refused to reach her ears. “I want to be -! I want to -, but none of those things can come to be until you die!”

She wanted to not be afraid. She wanted to not have to dread the approach of her own sisters. She wanted to go home. But she could not go home, she already ran away.

His face turned deathly pale. “You are lying, and it is not me that is harmed by those words.”

His act of surrender sickened her, and she felt a noose tightening around her own neck. Instead of loosening her grip, she squeezed the Darklord’s throat. He was the cause of all her uncertainty, yet he behaved like a martyr. He was insulting everyone who had ever sacrificed and lost because of him. The world would be a better place if he disappeared. Much pain could be avoided if he died then and there.

She dwelled in a land without his presence. She saw for herself what a realm without his influence might be like. It was peaceful but it was not her home.

Tarica hated Ordelas. Was it not natural to despise the one that hurt the person she cared about? She loathed the way he hurt himself. The thought of him injuring himself for some petty purpose made her fingers tighten to end it all.

“Do you really believe that, Tarica? If that is true then I am sorry.” There was something wrong with what he said. He acted as if he understood her better than she knew herself. A crack formed over his countenance as if his skin was made of porcelain. “If that is true, then prove it to me. Show me the new ideals that you wish to protect.”

The fracture spread throughout his body, and he shattered within her grasp. She tried to catch the remaining pieces, but they turned into crystalline sand at the touch of her fingers. She gathered as much of the shining sand as she could in the palm of her hand and closed her grip.

Her hand became warm, and she watched in shock as blood streamed down her arm. The shards had cut into her flesh like broken glass. When she opened her fingers, her palm was stained with fresh blood.

“You have not changed,” Ordelas’s voice echoed. “Your hands are still stained with blood.”

The sound of a faraway heartbeat resounded in the darkness. It became louder and louder till it sounded like thunderous footsteps. An enormous crimson claw curled around the area where Ordelas previously stood. Tarica’s eyes trailed over the scaled limb before she absorbed the grand image of the dragon in front of her.

It was no mere dragon. It was a monster that leered at her with his glowing, red eyes. She could not move. She could not speak. All she could do was look at doom incarnate.

“The end has begun,” declared the voice of Ordelas. The words resonated when the dragon closed its jaws around her.

Tarica gasped when she awoke. Her heart was beating so hard that she feared her ribs might break. She wiped the cold sweat from her brow, brought her knees to her chest, and tried not to sob in fear. It may have only been a nightmare, but it was true nonetheless.

***

The nightmares did not stop. They grew only more grotesque. Reality and her dreams became so intermingled that she could not tell when one dream ended and her waking moments began. She sat in a corner with both arms wrapped around herself.

She took a wooden knife, meant for peeling fruits, and clutched it in her hands. The timber blade was as sharp as any knife forged from metal. As she tried to breathe slowly and calm herself, she stabbed the floor, leaving long grooves behind where she dragged it across the ground.

“Please, just leave me alone,” she begged the darkness.

With her eyes wide open, she stared at the evil that lurked within the shadows. The rustle of leaves on the wind sounded like sinister whispers. Tarica knew she was alone, but the things that darted across her field of vision and assailed her ears insisted something was out there.

“You can not escape,” a voice hissed.

Before she had a chance to scream, a pair of armor-encased hands appeared behind her. One covered her mouth, and the other clamped across her chest. Her heart raced, and she forgot to breathe.

She was about to die. The shadows were enclosing, ready to consume her. She would disappear, and all her hopes would be for naught. She tried to lift the knife, but she was paralyzed with fear. She could not even cry out.

A passage of light opened in front of her, and a horrifying silhouette stepped into view. The figure came closer, and Tarica gulped for air when the hands around her vanished. She tried to back away, but she was already pressed against the wall.

She jumped to her feet and drew her hand back. “Get away from me!” she shrieked and flung the knife at the figure’s head.

The figure made the slightest movement, tilted its head to the side, and narrowly avoided the flying blade. The knife passed by its cheek. The weapon struck the opposite wall before it fell to the floor with a thud.

Someone clapped their hands, causing the room to illuminate. Tarica shielded her eyes, and her pupils shrank in response to the brightness. When she removed her hand, the shadows retreated to reveal Florena’s features.

Tarica shuddered when she realized what she had just done. “Did I...” she croaked, trying to speak, but guilt rendered her speechless.

Florena, her hostess, said nothing, stood solidly in place, and stared back at Tarica. Her face was void of expression, but her eyes were stern. Her gaze then settled on the grooves that Tarica had carved into the floor.

The queen closed her eyes, sighed dejectedly, and shook her head. “I knew something was wrong.”

Tarica lifted her hand and explained, “I did not mean to.” She tried to relax, to slow down her breathing and her heartrate. “I swear I did not mean to attack you.”

Florena took a step towards Tarica and embraced her. “It is all right,” the queen assured her. The Dark Elf collapsed in her arms. “I believe you.”

“Ordelas,” cried Tarica. “He...he was toying with my mind.”

Florena stroked Tarica’s black hair, coaxing her. “No, he was not. I would have known if magic was in the air.”

“How would you know?”

“If there was any sorcery at work, this conversation would not be so civil. The plants would be unsettled. They have little tolerance for magic whether it be foul or benign. They have endured the storm, fire, frost, and flood. They understand the elements well but magic is something beyond them, neither the work of nature as we understand it yet akin to the language of the heart that they understand. So, it eludes their understanding. They knew not the axe yet could grasp that metal bit into their timbers but the supposition of the real and unreal they can not and thus they fear it more than any other tool.”

Tarica reluctantly pushed herself up and looked at the queen face to face. “Then why did you come here?”

Florena pointed to the marks Tarica had left on the floor. “This room is alive, and I heard it calling out.” She looked away, hoping to appear less judgmental. “You have hurt it.”

“I am sorry,” Tarica apologized, horrified at what she had done.

Florena kneeled by the grooves and rubbed her fingers over them. “You have done no harm to me.” The wood mended at her touch. “And now, all is well. Just refrain from doing it again. Damage can be restored, but that will not change the fact that pain was inflicted.”

Tarica bowed her head. “Thank you.”

Florena looked out through the hollow and whispered something under her breath. “It is too early for you to thank me.” It was still dark outside, but morning was close at hand. “I neglected to arrange a proper engagement for your earlier request. It seems your training can be ignored no longer. I am sorry. I should have kept my word and started this the moment you asked."

Tarica watched a vine with several bunches of purple berries creep through the makeshift window and slither across the floor. “It is all right. You had your own duties to attend to.”

“One of my duties is to ensure the safety of my guests,” explained Florena as she held her hand out towards the vine.

The plant weaved several leaves together, forming a pouch, and placed it in the queen’s hands.

Berries dropped from a cluster into the small bag one by one until it was filled. Florena examined the contents for a couple of moments until she was satisfied. She pulled the threadlike fibers around the opening until the pouch closed shut.

She walked back to Tarica and handed the bag to her. “Here, take one for now. You will need to rest a few hours before we begin.”

Tarica opened the pouch, picked one of the tiny pieces of fruit, and held it to the light. The berry was a deep shade of purple with a tiny green stalk attached to it. It was round and smooth, resembling a grape. “What is this?”

“Dream fruit. It will help you sleep.”

Tarica clutched the pouch to her chest and stared at the queen in disbelief. Out of respect to Florena, Tarica did not crush the berry between her fingers. “No,” she almost shouted. “I am not going back to sleep. I will only have another nightmare.”

“That is why I gave you the fruit,” reasoned Florena. “If properly nurtured, their skins turn bright and bring good dreams, but if abused, they become dull and cause nightmares. The ones I just gave you will grant a dreamless slumber.”

Tarica inspected the fruit in front of her. She trusted Florena, but the queen admitted dream fruit could also cause nightmares. This one looked healthy, yet there was always potential for mistakes. Even now, Ordelas could target her dreams. Florena was not all-knowing. Magic had not caused her last nightmare, but that did not guarantee that it would not be used against her. Tarica, not willing to take that risk, bowed to Florena. “I shall stay awake until morning.” Nonetheless, she accepted the dream fruit, planning to use them at another time, but only if necessary.

Florena nodded with understanding. “However, if you change your mind, considering the company you keep, know this. This is a medicine powerful enough to affect us. I believe you require no warning that it would be fatal for a human like Eliseo,” Florena warned. “Your friend, Zarku, would find himself heavily sedated.”

Not saying another word about the matter, Florena stepped into the hall, reached down, and picked up the knife on the floor. Fearing no harm, the queen pressed her fingertip against the blade.

Tarica reached out to stop her. “That is sharp,” she warned.

Florena ran her thumb over the blade and flattened the edge. “Not anymore.” The smiling queen tilted her head and passed the knife back to Tarica before she smoothed her skirt and walked away.

***

The art of caring for plants could not be learned in mere hours nor mastered in mere days. Ordinarily a gardener would have to wait a week, short as that was, even for a bean to sprout. However, Florena’s realm was ripe with flora fully capable of expressing displeasure so at least Tarica would know when she did something wrong.

Soon enough she had to resort to the dream fruit as her training with Florena became measured in months. Tarica and Florena spent most days in a secluded garden from morning to dusk. The garden itself was in a branch that reached above the clouds. Tarica had heard of explorers dying at such heights but the foliage around them kept the air fresh and temperate.

During the peak of winter, Tarica finally witnessed some snow touch the treetops. There were several light snow storms but they ended as quickly as a summer shower, not to be seen again for a year’s time as winter’s reign waned and spring would be approaching. Florena stated they would be able to discern spring’s arrival by the silver leaves of the trees Tarica saw on her first day in the Great Tree regained their green hue.

The queen’s drake often followed and sniffed the air around them like a hound hunting its quarry. The queen had personally notified Eliseo and Sinker that she would accompany Tarica, so the two struck out on their own.

The lessons were broken by time spent with Eliseo and Sinker for fear that in their mortal understanding of time they might forget her or think she forgot about them. She tried to visit with them every three to five days. After spending most her time with plants and Florena, she appreciated their mundane conversations.

She opened to them that she was having lessons with Florena but she did not explain why. Eliseo attributed her pursuit as pure interest and curiosity and she made no effort to correct him, allowing him to assume his own narrative. If Sinker minded her nature as a Dark Elf, he made no signs that he was disturbed.

She questioned that perhaps she imagined his moment of realization. If anything he seemed comforted by the news of her lessons at the same time seemed lonely at the end of each day as they parted. If he knew what she was perhaps the idea of her spending so much time with the queen of the Forest Elves proved to him that her status as a Dark Elf was complicated.

Before Tarica could even learn how to communicate with plants, Florena claimed that she needed to want to speak with plants. In the beginning, it was just the two appreciate the presence of the plants, something Tarica had some difficulty with as her understanding of beauty came to clash with the complicated patterns that could sometimes be found in a flower or even the arrangement of leaves.

“I believe there was a saying among humans about learning how to fish. However, I believe that one needs to want to learn how to fish before any lessons can take root,” Florena explained in one of the earlier days. “That is why I offer a taste of what could be gained in hopes that one day perhaps others will find more reason to see a forest remain standing than to cut it down.”

Then the lessons moved on to acknowledging that she possessed within herself the same potential to learn as any Forest Elf. When Tarica stated that she was a Dark Elf, Florena was prepared.

“What is a Dark Elf? What is a Marine Elf? It is a lifestyle, an idea. There is little difference in blood between you and your seabound kin and my people. If one side of our conflict was to destroy the other, new Marine Elves might be born of Dark Elves and new Dark Elves might be born from Marine Elves. If you intend to remind me that you are an assassin allow me to remind you that that too is a way of life. A way of life you are not living at this time. Even if you were to kill this very day, you would not be incompatible with this forest. You are not their enemy, Tarica, death is not the enemy of life. Waste and disharmony is the enemy of life and peace.”

Finally. Florena shared secrets about the forest and began demonstrating how to communicate with plant life. It seemed simple enough, but the plants did not respond to Tarica. “It is similar to what you have always done. You can determine the motives of your enemies, but your search is too narrow,” taught the queen. “When you fought, you likely focused on hostility, letting other emotions slip past you. Now, listen to everything. You should feel them. You have probably heard them without realizing it. Now it is time to pay attention. Can you feel them reaching out to you?”

“No, but I do not understand what I am doing wrong!” Tarica did not expect that months of training would enable her to acquire Florena’s finesse. Still she was certain it was not normal for blooms to shut tight whenever she was around. The plants seemed intimidated, reminding her of most of the birds on Satros’s skyship.

“As I said before,” Florena patiently repeated. “They can not see your face, so it does not matter what smile you are wearing on the outside. Intentions and emotions happening on the inside, is what they sense.”

“And they sense that I am dangerous,” concluded Tarica.

“No, what they feel right now is not you. What they feel are-” Florena traced the air surrounding Tarica’s arms, shoulders, and head as she explained, “the burdens you have placed upon yourself. Your heart is buried so deep, it can not be reached. All they hear from you is drowned in sorrow, so they shut themselves away.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

The queen gestured, fanning away the gloom in Tarica’s presence. “It is simple enough. Just let go of what is troubling you.”

“That is not simple,” Tarica argued.

“It is, but just because it is simple will not make it easy. It is an act of will that could require years of preparation, or it may only take a couple of minutes. We have time. There is no need to rush.”

Tarica stared at the bark that served as ground in defeat. Her dreams were just symptoms of a greater sickness in her mind. “I must settle this,” insisted Tarica. “I want to enjoy my days here without worrying about what might trouble me at night. I spend time with companions but I am not truly there when they are there for me. Is there a faster way to master this?”

Florena sighed, recognizing Tarica’s anxiety. “There is a way, but it is only temporary. It will not last if you do not put forth effort to maintain the effects.”

“Tell me.”

Florena glanced around the garden, looking for something. Everything was calm except for the sound of wind and birdsongs. She looked to the sea of clouds below. “It can not be accomplished here. Follow me.”

They slipped down past the chilling cloud line into lower branches. The queen decided their path after her eyes scanned an animal trail. This branch happened to be one that possessed a floor of soil and would be mistaken for an ordinary forest if not for its proximity with the sky.

Tarica stayed close behind the queen as the Forest Elf maneuvered down the narrow trail. Florena navigated through the woods unbelievably well, her long skirt never snagging a single twig. Tarica was wearing the dress Florena had given her, so she raised the hem of her garment to avoid getting tangled in the foliage.

When they reached a small creek, the elves left the path to venture along the water’s edge. Florena touched her ear with her index finger and asked, “Is that sound pleasant to you?”

Tarica listened to the rushing sound of water breaking against knobby outcropping as if they were rocks. “I suppose.”

“Good.” Florena bent forward and touched a burr. The somewhat bumpy outgrowth reminded Tarica of a pile of rocks. “Now sit here.”

Tarica sat down cross-legged and looked around. “What am I supposed to do now?” she asked, confused.

“Simple, close your eyes and relax. Think of nothing but the sound of the stream. Concentrate only on that sweet sound until you have forgotten everything else. Now, I will leave you to your task.”

Florena strolled away and left Tarica alone where she remained seated with her hands, palms open, in her lap. The position of quiet reflection reminded her of meditation. Her teacher, Odlig, had emphasized the importance of calmness during conflict and taught her to use the exercise as an outlet.

She could have smiled or frowned at the memories of her training, yet she did neither. While she pushed the thoughts regarding her past far away, her serene expression remained fixed. With her breathing slowed, not a single breath being wasted, she was as motionless as a statue. Ignoring all thoughts, she listened to the calming stream.

Not knowing how much time had passed, the concept of time escaped her notice. There was only the sound of water. Gradually, the current must have changed, because the rhythm slackened. The constant cadence of the beat was low pitched.

It sounded like a drum. Was she listening to her own heart? No, the gaps between each sound were too distant. New noises like the cries of insects joined the quickening beat and resonated like a soft hum. Finally, the notes of an organ reached her ears and ushered in an entire orchestra of sounds that reverberated through her very being. It was a song she was familiar with.

She opened her eyes. The sky was dark, and the trees resembled gray skeletons. The rush of the stream halted, but the water was now crystal clear and the exposed bark beneath bone white. She was dreaming. Instinct drew her eyes downstream, and the ripples that formed there journeyed toward her. Music blasted to a crescendo when the source of it drew near.

“It is you!” shouted Tarica as Ordelas walked towards her.

Though his feet did not sink in the water, his boots created ripples with every step. He smiled and raised a hand to the heavens. When he swirled his hand, the musical notes twisted, causing chaotic threads of sound to intertwine between his fingers. He lowered his hand, and everything became silent.

Tarica stood, gawking at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because you are here,” he answered boldly. “I came to bring you home.”

“I will not go back! I do not answer to you,” proclaimed Tarica as she slid down the slight incline near the edge of the water. She stood her ground, keeping her distance while Ordelas waited in the middle of the stream.

“I am not the one that calls for your return. It is our home that draws you back. You can not deny it,” he challenged. He lifted his index finger to his mouth and pricked it on one of his canine teeth. He pointed the bleeding extremity at her. “As you will prove to both of us.”

Tarica raised her fists and planted her feet on the ground. She loosened her joints so her stance was less rigid. She prepared to close the distance between them or dodge any spell he might cast towards her.

Blood steadily poured out of his cut, but the crimson liquid did not fall to the ground. Instead, it remained suspended just a few inches above the water. The blood molded into the outline of a glowing sword.

After the sword formed, Ordelas grabbed it by the hilt and extended it toward Tarica. She gasped when the blackened blood that writhed to and fro solidified. The jeweled hilt and cruel blade that emerged from the ghastly display was Bleodsian, the sword of Ordelas.

Tarica narrowed her eyes on the weapon. She was adept, completely capable of fighting unarmed, but she had a disadvantage against Bleodsian’s reach. To survive a battle with Ordelas, she would need to finish him before he summoned the power of the sword.

Expecting him to rush her when he drew his arm back, she backed away. She was caught off guard, for he pivoted on his back foot, twisted his body, and flung the blade towards her. She was ready to dodge, but instead, the blade landed by her feet.

She recoiled at the sight of the hilt. The six-winged angel that decorated the sword was upside- down. It seemed to look at her with its ruby eyes, and its arms and outstretched wings formed a black cross guard.

“Take it.” Ordelas tilted his head towards his precious blade. “You say you will not return. Now prove it to me with that. Kill me here and now so you might have no duty left to perform. That is what you were always meant to do.”

Tarica glared at the blade and watched Ordelas as he beckoned her with outstretched arms. He was inviting her to kill him. If he disappeared, there would be nothing for her to return to.

She gripped the hilt with both hands and lifted the blade off the ground. It was so heavy that she wondered how Ordelas ever waved it with a single hand. She balanced the sword close to her chest in alignment with her shoulders.

Ordelas stood where he was, looking at her in anticipation. She focused her gaze on the center of his chest and dashed toward him. The blade sliced like there was no resistance and slid straight through the king’s armor.

She lurched forward, but her king calmly took one step backwards and turned his head. She beamed in exhilaration and looked at his face, hoping to view his final expression. It took her a moment to realize that she was injured, and it was Ordelas who was looking down at her. Unable to think, she clenched her chest in pain and coughed out blood. Her knees buckled, and she struggled to stand. She stared at the blood spattered on Ordelas’s armor and understood. She sickened at the sight of blood on her hand and the disturbing warmth that her dress steeped in. Fear and shock seized her mind as pain consumed her senses, making it impossible to breathe. The gash across her chest and back hurt so much that pain was all she could think about. Even without the ability to reason, she knew it was a fatal wound. After falling to her knees, she did not notice the water that surrounded her lower body. As her blood drained out, the clear water was tinged with a pale-pink color.

Ordelas slowly pulled the blade out of his own chest, and Tarica stifled a scream. Every inch of the brutal blade that was removed from the Darklord’s body caused excruciating agony. It felt as if the phantasmal edge was scraping her internal organs. Feeling some relief after the sword was freed from its sheathe of flesh, she wheezed.

The gaping hole in Ordelas’s torso closed, and the living armor he wore mended itself. After the blade soaked up the blood that it was covered with, the king examined the sword. The waters vibrated when he planted his sword into the wood beneath so her face was level with the hilt.

Tarica closed her eyes in exaltation when the pain faded. She groped for the place where the wound was but found nothing. Except for being wet from the water, her dress was unsoiled. After observing her recovery, Ordelas inquired, “Do you understand now?”

Tarica glared at him. “What is there to understand?” she rasped. “You stabbed me!”

“The only one you can blame for what happened, is you,” chided Ordelas as he placed his hands on Bleodsian’s cross guard. “You are the one who wielded the blade.”

“But you are the one who gave it to me!” she accused. She was so weak that she was not able to lift herself off the ground. The wound disappeared, but her energy was utterly depleted.

“You have not changed,” he reminisced as he shook his head. “Murder is in your nature, but now you are too weak to kill.”

“If that is true, then you will not mind if I still try to slay you,” threatened Tarica, though she struggled with exhaustion.

“It seems you are remembering who you really are,” he noted as he gazed into her eyes. “I would not mind if you were the one who took my life. You are the fourth one. You are my crossroad where two worlds meet. You are my precious Death.”

“I let you hurt yourself but it was for a lesson, for that I am sorry.” Tarica’s ears twitched as an apology left his mouth. He said he was sorry in the previous dream.

Light radiated behind him when he offered her his hand. He looked like a triumphant hero returning from a quest. “Now come with me, and I will take you to the place where you can truly smile.”

Tarica’s eyes fixated on his outstretched hand. For the slightest moment, she was tempted, but she slapped it away. “I am not a tool to be used!”

Anger sparked in Ordelas’s eyes. “You are a fool! You exist to kill, yet you did not have the strength to take my life when it was handed to you. If you can not do that, then what good are you? Your life is meaningless without me.” He thrust his arm in front of her. “Now take my hand!”

A smile grew over Tarica’s face. Now she knew who she was dealing with. “All right,” she agreed as she intertwined her fingers with his. Suddenly, her grip became strong as iron, and she clutched his elbow with her other hand. “I shall do as you suggest and drag you down to my level!”

With his head skimming past the sword, she jerked his body forward. Once they were face to face, she pushed him, back first, into the water. “I can not kill you because you are not the real Ordelas!” Tarica yelled as she drove her fist into his face. Her head twisted to the side, as if she was struck by a hard blow, but she did not relent. “He would never apologize for what chose to do. He would only thank me for my service. And my life is meaningless without him? He would never say something like that.”

She punched him over and over again, until his face began to crack.

In return, every punch was marked with another violent turn of her head. “You insist that I return to him, but you shall not drag me back into the past. You hope your behavior will disgust me, and I will blame him for every wrong I have done. That way, I will not shoulder the guilt of my decisions.”

He would not apologize, not for what she chose. That would take away the meaning of her choices, her agency. The responsibility would be his, not hers.

A vicious strike sent her head reeling backwards and nearly broke her neck. A large chunk of Ordelas’s face crumbled, and darkness filled the space where his eyes had been located.

“At times, he was hateful, but I chose to serve him. There are many who want me back, but others wish me to stay here as I am now. There is only one who would benefit if my admiration turned into hatred and my loyalty became fear.”

The onslaught stopped when the false Ordelas caught one of her fists and stopped her from landing another blow. A brown, doe-like eye came into view before he sneered, “And who would that be?”

“That would be me.” She ripped her hand out of the façade’s vicelike grip and dug her fingers into the cracks of its face. She tore away the pieces until all was bare.

She stared at the perfect likeness of herself, and it begrudgingly looked back at her. The female’s long hair, black as midnight, floated on top of the water, and she was wearing Ordelas’s armor. “You resorted to violence again,” the elf murmured. “Since that time, we have not changed.” “Yes, but it has only been a short time,” countered Tarica. “I have made friends, and I will make more. Bit by bit, I will change until no one will recognize me as the assassin I was before.”

The female looked at her hopefully. “Are you certain?”

“I am certain,” Tarica insisted.

“Then we have nothing to fear,” the illusion agreed, and the dream faded to black.

***

“That was an interesting dream you had,” remarked Florena, who was sitting on a small bench of swollen timber.

Tarica, not in the mood to discuss the matter, simply nodded. She remained in the back of the garden with Florena, but only told the queen what she was comfortable with sharing. She did not mention Ordelas and told the tale of how she had fought against herself. Tarica, trying to ignore a constant humming sound, struggled to give Florena her undivided attention. The Dark Elf had been disoriented when she first woke up and heard the plants whispering to her. All along, the forest tried to communicate with Tarica, but she had never noticed. Now it was too loud for her own comfort. The plants, not able to speak with words, expressed feelings. At first, the onslaught of new sensations nearly overwhelmed Tarica.

“Was that what you intended? If so, it seems to have worked.”

“Oh no, that was never meant to happen,” Florena stated as she shook her head. “That was not meant to happen at all. That was the reason why I gave you the dream fruits. You were only supposed to clear your mind.”

Tarica looked at and felt the pouch tied to her side. “I know I just dealt with my own phantoms, but may I still keep the dream fruits?”

“I do not see any harm in that. I find your choice wise but may I ask why you make that decision?”

“I am fine at the moment, but I do not know what will happen next. For now, I would prefer not to dream.”

“I believe that is wise,” Florena agreed. “Such worries will not vanish in a single day. There might be a resurgence but with each return, hopefully they will grow weaker until they cease to trouble you at all.”

“Many say dreams are where the truth can be found,” explained Florena as she looked up towards the sky. “It might be where you are able to look beyond the lies and glimpse the core of everything. While I do not believe that to be entirely true, there is likely as much deception to be found in one’s musings as in reality, I must ask what truth did you discover in your dream?”

Legends had it that the world of dreams was once the realm of ideas. Though they appear nonsensical, and more often than not they were, they could be applied to the real world.

Tarica did not want to analyze the thought of her fighting against herself. “I think it means that I am still the same as I once was.”

“I would not say that about you, but I do not know who you were before.”

“Neither do I.”

***

After many days of listening exercises, Tarica was thrilled to show natural potential when a frilly, red flower bloomed for her at nightfall. Oddly, it was the Great Tree she had the greatest difficulty listening to. It was too large and vast, its very existence was an all encompassing presence while she remained upon it.

Florena smiled, acknowledging Tarica’s accomplishment. “I believe you are ready now.”

“May I ask what you believe I am ready for?” Tarica inquired.

Florena gestured to the world below the tree. “For you to learn on your own. This is communication and speech. One does not become adept with such matters by secluding oneself with a master. One learns through interacting with others.”

Tarica felt as though she built a rampart of understanding with flora around her. Plants were more aggressive than beasts. They tore through stone and died only to be born anew. They were more connected to the violent side of nature.

Florena’s forest was at its heart, predatory. There were plants that feed on insects and all vegetation derived nutrition from soil enriched by decay. It was not beyond her trees to hunt for themselves, to drag the freshly dead beneath their roots or as dwarves and Dark Elves learned, the still living.

All plants had such resolve but were more subtle. Human cities from elder days had disappeared into foliage. They were patient and the ultimate victors of every war, after the carrion bird and worms had their spoils, the battlefield would be claimed anew by grass and their kin.

On the way down from the Great Tree, Florena explained that not all plants were as loud as the ones in her forest. The Forest Elves encouraged the trees to talk, yet in less hospitable environments, plants were often quiet. Outside of Florena’s borders, Tarica would not be able to hear the whispers unless she purposefully listened or inquired of them, even then she might only be rewarded with silence.

Florena took Tarica to her favorite herbal garden, where two kavuidens awaited them. In a hushed tone, Florena introduced Tarica to Old Willow and Lady Willow. It was then that Tarica was informed that speaking with a soft voice was an indication of high regard amongst the kavuidens.

Tarica saw many medicines she familiarized herself with in passing that was meant for nonelves. “You said this place is your favorite herbal garden,” Tarica recalled.

“Indeed, I did,” Florena confirmed.

“I assume then you know the uses for these plants.”

“Indeed they make excellent medicines.”

“For nonelves?”

“That would be what most here are for. We have little need for balms.”

“Why do you, an elf, know so many foreign healing arts?”

“I have many guests and I try to ensure their safety and health.”

Tarica had adequate knowledge of poisons and their effects on non-elves as for her own kind, she knew herbs powerful enough to sedate her own kind in moderate doses.

Florena explained that Old Willow and Lady Willow were the greatest kavuiden herbalists in the forest. Florena whispered to the pair of kavuidens, “Tarica is a bright student and an aspiring naturalist. I have taught her to care for a variety of plants. Now, it is time for her to learn how to use the plants if she ever needs them.”

“But as you said,” Tarica said weakly to not garner offense. “We have little use for medicine. I do not require such skills.”

“You still partake of dream fruits, correct? And I mean not to speak ill but if I understand correctly, you poisoned Malendar. For every fact of mal intent you possess for poisons, let us balance with cures and remedies.”

The queen left Tarica alone with the kavuidens to learn their methods without any interruptions.

There she spent days with little interruption. Her hosts, unlike Florena had little to administer, though interestingly Tarica should have guessed but kavudins slept like any other plant. Plants still respired but once the sun ceased to reach them, their activity dimmed, though they could be startled awake.

Tarica, unlike with prior lessons, had a definitive goal to pursue, a clear number. Tarica started by learning the remedy of any poison she did not know which was essentially a majority of those she might use as those meant to fell humans and orcs would leave her often unaffected. It was dwarves with their hardiness that Tarica held some familiarity as even she would find herself troubled by something that could stop the heart of a dwarf. Fortunately, there was little difference between poison and medicine and she learned quickly little details some part of her already could have guessed.

One morning, she passed her two associates, Eliseo and Sinker by the Musician’s Fountain. “Are you able join us today?” Eliseo inquired.

Tarica bowed her head. “Sorry, there are things I must study and learn about before I can join you.”

Eliseo held out his hands as if to push her head back upright. “No need to apologize. We just have not seen you for a bit. Just a bit. For you, you probably just saw us.”

Tarica gave an honest smile. She had been neglecting the two while learning medicine. Perhaps she could hasten her studies or make time for them.

“Will you be able to join us tomorrow?” Sinker asked.

“We will be wine tasting that day.”

Tarica shook her head but kept smiling. “No, but I think I will be able to join you the day after that.” She silently promised herself to reach the balance by then so she would not be distracted by ideas of cures.

The next day, Old Willow and Lady Willow taught her everything she needed to know about the herbs in the plot. They handed her a beautiful book, which was woven from leaves and bound with vines. It contained a list of herbs with their medicinal properties. Old Willow reviewed the medical applications, and Lady Willow encouraged her to utilize the soothing scents that herbs release. The book itself was alive. The means by which the words etched into the pages perplexed her.

Brushing the leaves with a quill resulted in words forming. A leave could also dry into a leathery page for when it needed to be removed with a new page being born with the same words.

Some muttering from the plants around Tarica began muttering later in the day, it was like a message whispered from one to the other and reached its end at the two willows.

“Did something happen?” Tarica inquired.

“It appears that a human and an orc are ill.”

Tarica’s heart leapt violently for a single beat. “Please explain!”

“It is nothing fatal. They had too much to drink and now are enduring the consequences.”

“Is there anything that will help them?” Tarica asked. “Those two you speak of are my friends.”

“Dearest Tarica, you already know the answer to that question,” Lady Willow confided.

Tarica thought for a moment and whispered, “I will need willow bark.” Still, she was uncertain, doubting herself when she asked, “Will that hurt you?”

Old Willow put Tarica’s fears to rest and assured her, “It will not hurt me to lose a little bark, if it will help those foolish friends of yours.” Old Willow scraped off a small piece of light-brown bark and passed it to Tarica.

Tarica ground it down, mixed it with a few herbs, and poured the concoction into a bag similar to the pouch that contained her dream fruits. She looped the strings of the sack around the drake’s neck and slipped written instructions under his collar. Though the resulting remedy was the work of a novice, it would serve its purpose.

She rushed in the direction the message came from, listening for the clamor of a sick human and orc. It took time but the sound of retching reached her ears and she found Sinker staggering towards the Great Tree or at least what he thought was towards the Great Tree, a Eliseo with flushing cheeks hanging from his shoulders, barely conscious. They were actually going in the wrong direction, walking up the incline of a root, thinking maybe the slope was the base.

She held out her remedy to Sinker. “Take this.”

Sinker looked at the bag and the idea slowly registered to him in his stupor.

Their bodies would go numb for an hour after they took the mixture, not that it mattered when they were already so close to collapse. She made sure Sinker took the more concentrated batch meant for orcs.

She had to open the bag for Sinker. His fine motor skills had abandoned him. He said something that might have been “Thank you,” in Elfish before slipping into indiscernible Orcish. She understood some dialects of Orcish but his speech was too skewed to comprehend so she led him and had to read his facial expressions for if he understood her or not.

Elves did not spit wine and even the tamest of such beverages could be fatal for nonelves. It took some time but the Forest Elves secured some that would hopefully not kill their guests. Florena had not involved herself in their plans and they received among their samples something that was far too strong.

Forest Elves provided an antitoxin to keep them alive but by virtue, the two poisoned themselves. To the Forest Elves, this was a sort of learning experience for their visitors, a warning against excess Tarica supposed.

She tucked Eliseo in bed, having passed out by then. Sinker, in spite of his larger physique fared little better. He drank more and it took more time for the effects to make themselves apparent so the impact slowly built up until he could not walk and was too big to be carried by elves at least and the floor itself moved to carry him.

Far too soon, the sun reached the end of its trek across the afternoon sky and prepared to set in the west. From Sinker’s room. she reveled in the remarkable sight when the silver leaves flashed and the final rays of glorious light almost blinded her. After witnessing nature’s display, she went back to her own room.