“Elder, Elder! Please, tell us a story!” The kids shouted.

The old druid, now more wrinkles than not, smiled kindly. He sat on his favorite chair, taking a moment for the kids to sit too. “And which one would you like to hear, little ones?”

“Tell us the tale of the First hunter!” Screamed a kid, soon echoed by everyone else.

Preparing himself with a deep breath, the Elder took on his best narrative voice.

“At the beginning of time, there was no life on this planet. One day, after the Gods came here, they saw that this was an empty world. This saddened them, for there was none to watch but one another, and neither of them wished to sing each other’s praises.

So, one day, some Gods decreed that life was to be. They would create creatures like them, in all but might. So, the Divinities populated the world with their creatures, ones that best expressed their genitor.

These creatures found the world vast and unexplored, but they soon grew lonely and yearned to be like their parents; so they did the same, and monsters and people came to be. They lived in harmony, for the whole world was theirs and there was much emptiness to fill.

The Four Courts created us elves to be deeply connected with nature, the domain of their Mother.

Many years later, some say centuries, others millennia, the apparently endless horizon found a limit. Resources dwindled, and no one knew what to do, not even the Gods themselves. How could they? Everything was new.

One day, an elf saw the only possible solution. He purposefully slew a monster. Then he did it again and again.

Everyone was shocked. While accidents had happened many times, intentional murder was never seen before.

Many talks accrued between the Gods. The monstrous Gods wished to punish this man and his growing number of followers, but others accepted his way, for they had found none other. The next time they looked upon the world, they saw the first elven tribe thriving.

They had space, resources, and they flourished with this lifestyle.

Seeing this, the majority of the Gods decreed that the man was not to be punished. Out of spite, the monstrous Gods declared eternal war on the people walking on two legs.

In Her wisdom, Lyah’thien the Huntress took the man to her side, marrying him and giving him the title of First Hunter, for it was by his hand that hunt came to be in this realm.

Since that day, the First Hunter hunts all who reach their final moment. We pray for him to look away from us for as long as possible, knowing that, one day, the arrows he hides in the monster’s fangs or a kin’s dagger will bring us to the side of our Goddess, like him so many years ago.”

-Elder Phalthian, ‘The tale of the First Hunter’

Nashariel pov

Four more days had passed since the swamp. Nashariel noticed that even the others looked relieved when her gem went missing, even if they didn’t raise the topic.

During this time, Nashariel hadn’t felt any difference in her behavior or thoughts. She just liked to hunt since she was a wyrmling, after all. She hoped that her undesired attunement wasn't pulling any tricks.

Still, to ease her companions, she kept her instincts in check. It wasn’t too heavy for her, as the forest seemed determined to stop their advance.

Minor dangers in the forms of natural traps continued to slow down the Astillians. Some monsters loved to ambush them, exploiting these dangers, or attacked at night, losing the team additional energy. It got so grating that they had trouble sleeping at night, for fear of someone killing the watcher and assassinating them in their sleep.

Taken by inspiration, Nashariel proposed the others to mount on her back during the day. While they slept, Nashariel would keep her Presence activated, discouraging some of the attacks. The fact that she hadn’t thought about it sooner spoke volumes about her hesitation to unlock even more forms. You simply forget about some tricks.

The only one able to keep her company was Veliel, as she benefitted from her own monstrous biology.

“Do you not feel the push to hunt?” Nashariel asked her, one day.

“Only a little, but is more to acquire certain skills rather than the… act itself. I feel the compulsion to sing, to dance, and to fly, hopefully to control someone. Being able to talk to you is a gift from the Goddess. I wasn’t thrilled about staying mute for months.” The priestess answered, adjusting her sitting on the dragoness’ head.

I can believe it. Barely hunting these years was a pain in the duck. “How are the boys doing?”

“This rest is doing wonders for them. Although, your skill feels chilling on a deeper level.”

“How so? It shouldn’t affect my allies.” Nashariel glanced at the skill to confirm her statement.

The priestess gestured for a moment. "It's not debuffing me, it's just… a remainder? That’s the term that comes to my mind.”

Yeah, my system loves to rattle about draconic superiority. “I’m sorry. Should I deactivate it, or…?”

“Please, don’t. This peace is a blessing.”

Nashariel chuckled.

Three days later, they arrived in front of the next danger. Bones littered the ground, and avian cackles reached the Astillians.

“The map says that this is the hunting ground of various flying creatures. Their level range is between 100 to 150, with very rare and special individuals next to the 200s. I suggest we avoid it.” Declared Nashariel.

Dan whistled. “Those are pretty high numbers.”

Nashariel shrugged. “We are going deeper into the forest. Thoughts?”

“How to avoid it?” Asked Dorel.

"The map recommends dashing from tree to tree, waiting a few seconds between dashes. We must finish the entire thing before nightfall, or they will kill us all before going to sleep. Suffice to say, avoid the barest areas.”

“Should we undo our armors?” Proposed Dan. At the team interrogative gazes, he added. “Faster, quieter, and less tiring. Fighting here would mean death, no?”

Nashariel nodded. “It’s only a mile and a half in length, plus another half to get there,” she glanced at the sky, “it’s noon, so we should have plenty of… hold on, I might have something useful for this.” She grinned.

Less than an hour later, the cries of the birds became deafening. The ground itself was barely visible from all the bones, some even from the birds themselves. Veliel shivered. They had gotten as close as they dared before Dan cast his invisibility spell.

Fortunately, Nashariel remembered about [Improved burrow]. The Earth dragoness excavated with contentment. Something in this form seemed happy to dig. What am I, an obese rabbit? She mused, burrowed ‘till her hind legs.

Two days later, her group safely found themselves on the other side. They left the tunnel open, in case some other elf needed its use. Or monster. Nashariel reasoned that ambushers would still be less dangerous than the flyers above.

This method had been slower, but infinitely safer. Nashariel had been on guard, in case she hadn’t been the first to have this idea, and some other burrowers decided to live down there. It hadn’t been the case.

Just before re-emerging, the Astillians decided to rest. They needed a few more days for the city, and this would be the last time they could sleep in relative safety.

Days later, the giant tree was finally in sight.

The gargantuan plant towered above them, even more than the Bastion. As opposed to the symbol of her home, Nashariel felt insignificant under the tree, instead of protected and safe. It resembles a weeping willow. Size aside.

“If we hurry, we might get inside by tomorrow evening," Nashariel said, after having consulted the map.

The other narrowed their gazes in determination. They started walking, almost jogging, to their destination. Is home truly in reach? Wondered the omnidragon, hurrying after her friends. Some small part of her hoped for a negative answer.

No monster roamed the vicinities, much to no one's surprise. The group hadn't stopped to sleep, deciding instead to power through the fatigue.

As predicted, they arrived the day after, only at noon.

The tree was even more imposing up-close. A large multicolored barrier encompassed the whole clearing from which it sprouted, infusing the area with a magical atmosphere. Such thing was slightly marred by a whole elven squad aiming at the Templars with their bows.

Nashariel commanded a halt, then began to speak. “In the name of Astill the Merciful Wing, we seek refuge and aid.” She declared loudly. The dragokin had modified her armor to display Astill’s stemma on her chest. Need aside, she liked it. From Torment to Compassion. Ironic.

The elves lowered their weapons but didn't open the entry. They remained silent, stalking the Astillians from many fissures in the bark.

Some of the wood slowly vanished, letting a fierce-looking warrior out. “Why are you here, Templars?” He questioned, squaring them one by one.

“We have found ourselves stranded while answering the call of help from Althei. We mean no intrusion, but we seek a safe return home. Please, would you help us?”

The elf hesitated a long moment. Then another. “You may come in, but not yet as guests. The Elder will decide.” At that statement, all the guards put their bows away.

Nashariel let out a relieved sigh. She and her friends followed the elf inside the trunk.

Innumerable motes of light dotted the hollowed tree. A myriad of houses, shops, and streets filled the rings above them, all growing from the inner bark, interconnected by wooden bridges, which also hosted various buildings. The ground level was filled with elven trainees and military utilities. Nashariel spotted many children running as fast as older recruits back at the Bastion. It was quite inspiring to see. I wonder if they need another instructor. For a while, at least.

“You will stay here.” The elf declared, gesturing towards an inn, from where a Ranger came out giving them all a brief greeting nod.

It looked almost identical to the one from Althei, if only three times the size. It also had little to no decorations. "You are confined within until new order. Short of the place catching fire or explicit permission from a Ranger, going out of the building will cause expulsion of your whole group.” The man marched away immediately after.

What a sweetheart. “Well, let’s see the inside, shall we?”

The others almost cried in joy. “A real bed…” Murmured Dan with dreamy eyes.

Nashariel agreed. She opened the well-oiled door.

The Templars found themselves in a pleasantly Spartan room, decorated with Lyah’thien’s sacred symbols and little else. A small, doll-sized house caught the dragokin’s eye, but the man at the reception welcomed them before further investigations.

“Welcome! I’ve been warned that you are to stay here for a while. Your rooms are being prepared at this precise moment. Please, remember that you cannot go out, but don't hesitate to ask me for anything!" He said, giving them a genuine smile.

Astill’s mercy, I missed merry people. “Thank you for your hospitality…?”

“Valar, at your service.”

“Valar. How come we are allowed here but not outside?”

“The city usually forbids the entry for people below a certain level. I don’t know your circumstances, but the Head-Ranger decided otherwise. Don’t abuse this gift.” He raised a finger in admonishment.

The Astillians vehemently shook their heads. “We won’t.”

Some pleasant talk later, two maids came down. “Your rooms are ready. If you wish, a bath has been readied.” They said.

Nashariel noted that their skin was olive-green, literally, while their hair looked like thin strands of softwood. The dragoness compared those to the branches of the willow tree they were in. Dryads, she realized. It was the first time she had ever seen one in person.

The rest of her team had ignored every detail and nodded enthusiastically to the bath. Nashariel shivered, remembering her most recent one.

At the corner of her eye, she saw a mote dancing curiously at her. The moment Nashariel turned to look at it, the thing vanished. Fairies? How come I didn’t expect them… With a sigh, Nashariel followed her friends. The sensation of being watched remained.

The group stared at the largest tub they had ever seen. It was as large as their training room at the Bastion, or close to it.

“Did they see our bay and liked it?” Joked Dan.

"This is the bath reserved for the children after they're done training." Answered one of the dryads, clearly holding back an amused smile.

Nashariel evaluated the tub and compared it to the number of children outside. “Is it big enough?”

The other dryad didn’t bother at hiding her amusement. “It is for the fast ones. Please hurry, or they will trample you on their way.”

The pair of maids bowed, then closed the door behind them.

The Astillians sheepishly looked at one another.

“So… mixed bath, uh?” Started Dan. His cheeks reddened a bit.

The dragokin rolled her eyes. "Yup. Don't be a kid, let's go." Without caring, Nashariel made her armor vanish and splashed in the water. It was pleasantly warm, despite her resistant body.

The dragokin held her breath for a minute, soaking in the complete relaxation that was knowing that she and her friends were safe. The fact that being submerged reminded her of her home was a plus in her book.

She had been in a swimming pool-like Clinic, three years ago. It had some kind of algae on the bottom that acted as a sort of cocoon, healing the body all the way in. People have the weirdest idea, but as long as it works…

Lungs about to burst, Nashariel re-emerged. Her friends were on the other side of the pool, eyes closed in tranquility. She was pretty sure that someone was snoring. Chuckling between herself, she approached the various soaps enclosed in a glass box. The language was unfamiliar to her, so she sniffed one by one until one caught her fancy.

She put particular care into soaping her sore wings. Somehow, they kept attracting the enemy’s attention, and between getting snapped, burned, and melted, Nashariel felt like they needed a bit of love. I wonder how my Protection form reinforces them… to sate her curiosity, Nashariel shifted her attunement.

As promised by her skills, an elegant array of golden tattoos ran along her limbs, dividing for each of the fingers. They were dimly shining, but it may as well have been the reflection of the water. Her wings were thicker than her dragokin arms and felt as much heavier on the boot. Nashariel moved them with difficulty at first, as they seemed to glide through honey. Loss of mobility, but I think I can use them as shields now.

The dragokin knocked on her scales, finding them doubled in bulk. Interesting. I expected this kind of change from the Stone Aspect, but I’ll take it. I’m kinda curious about that Aspect too, now that I think of it… shaking off the thought before her urge awakened once more, Nashariel kept scrubbing the dirt and sweat away.

The water was considerably less clean when the gang came out of it. Every inch of embarrassment was long gone. Finally, the black on Dorel's head was his color and not the stuff from the road.

They all went into their personal room, falling on the beds. Nashariel didn't care that this mattress wasn’t the expensive one in her room, instead of some grass or hay shoved inside a sheet. It felt heavenly all the same.

Especially because her wonderful, amazing, beautiful hoard was still on top of her.

A while later, Nashariel was awoken by an earthquake.

The dragokin jumped on her bed, uncaring about the rattling coins on the floor. She summoned her armor and readied her spear, then…

Children’s laughter filled her ears, followed by a myriad of splashes.

Puffing out her unused breath attack, Nashariel dissolved her skills. She recalled to her the lost coins, forming an additional silvery and golden blanked over her head. Worse than the line for eating when we were fourteen… she grumbled, snuggling within her warm mantle.

The morning after saw Nashariel and her team eating an elven breakfast, composed mainly of meat and veggies. Is this lunch? Wondered the girl, tasting a bite-sized chunk. Who cares, it’s delicious! She was grateful about not tasting her own cooking or Dorel’s for at least a day.

After they were done, each one of them almost dozed off on the spot. Valar shook them awake when he dropped a drink in front of them. "Exhausted to the bone, were you?"

Nashariel nodded. “Almost two months of little rest and away from home, and we skipped last night’s rest. You do have a teleport circle available, right?” The last phrase was added in a panic. Her friends tensed too.

“Of course! Every city and most villages have one, as far as I know. Don’t worry, the Elder’s father was saved by a Templar during the Darkmud war; I’m sure that you’ll be back in the blink of an eye.”

They all relaxed. Right, that’s how it was called. “When do you think he’ll be available?”

He hummed, scratching his brown beard. “In a week, probably. We have to prepare for winter.”

Nashariel deflated. A week of confinement… that’s unacceptable. “Is there… something to do in here?”

Veliel silently chuckled. “No rest for the righteous?” She asked with a grin.

“More like: I'm going to throw myself to the monsters outside if I don't find anything to bleed some energy on," Nashariel replied with a huff.

The innkeeper chuckled. “What can you do, fighting aside?”

Nashariel gave out a small list of things. Remembering what she saw outside, she listed her past as a teacher for the kids.

“Right, I’m not sure what can you do. I’ll ask the Rangers if they need to train their resistances. I’m sure you’ll understand why they might be… hesitant, to put the children under your care.”

She nodded. “Obviously.” And they haven’t much healing magic, as far as I understand, so they’ll be even more cautious.

Turns out, the Astillians had slept the whole morning, so they only needed to wait for an hour, before a hungry horde of little elves threw itself through the doors.

The little ones completely ignored the humans and monsters, hurrying to the large eating room below. More calmly, six Rangers followed, giving the Templars a courteous greeting nod, then sat at a large table.

Valar served them. Once they got their meals, he stopped to talk. More than once, a Ranger eyed Nashariel, who sat on the table by herself, as her friends wanted to properly make acquaintances with the beds.

She couldn’t understand the words, but she recognized the ‘come here’ gesture. That was universal.

Approaching, she got some dubious looks. “Valar says that you can provide an appreciable variety of elements to train against. Is it true?” One of them inquired.

“It is.” Simple and direct. Dorel would be proud of me.

He looked in her eyes, then nodded. “Follow me.” The elf walked outside.

Following, Nashariel walked until the man stopped in a drawn circle on the ground. “Show me what you got.”

Nodding, the dragokin breathed all her element, one by one. She hesitated a moment before using her Curse attunement. If this thing can be useful for one thing, is to get resistant to it.

After that, she shook her head.

The other whistled in appreciation. “I half-expected a lie, to be honest.” He was seemingly untouched by her attacks. Not that she had been serious, but it was a nice display of resilience. “How strong can you get them?”

Nashariel stopped. “Mind if I [Identify] you?”

“Go on.”

She did. The man in front of her was just above 200. “I think strong enough to kill you in a hit.” She wouldn’t have made this assumption, two months before, but those fire dragons’ devastations, and the mess she made of the swamp…

The other huffed. “Child, even if you manage to have me worried, I’ll avoid it.”

Nashariel figured that being a Ranger helped someone’s confidence. She subtly shifted to Lightning, beginning to throw mana into her gland. “It’s going to be lightning.” She warned.

A bit later, her Voltage was filled to the brim. It had gotten large and hot, almost inflating the right side of her chest. "Ready?"

The elf nodded. At some point, the humming in the air had tipped him off, so now he looked focused and ready.

Nashariel unleashed the thunderbolt.

As opposed to the last time in the swamp, when she threw all the mana that she could into the gland for a few seconds, the slow and steady filling allowed her body to hold much, much more electricity.

The elf found out as much. His eyes widened, then he threw himself out of the way.

The thunderbolt didn’t follow, perhaps because Nashariel didn’t view the Ranger as an enemy, so it raged on undisturbed. The attack smashed itself against a barrier placed just before the wood, cracking a small part of it. The impact let out a thunder that reverberated in Nashariel’s bones and rattled her teeth. Whoops.

The Ranger was impressed, considering that he was shivering. “Apologies, I underestimated you.”

Nashariel grinned, before dropping on one knee. Ducking stamina… standing up, and only buckling twice, she answered. “So, what about sparring and training others?”

Three days later, Nashariel fell back on what her life in the Bastion had been for the past five years. A trio of soon-to-be promoted Rangers assaulted her from all angles, leaving little to no space to react.

The dragokin interposed her armored wing against a double-slice. While the elf bounced off, another Almost-Ranger shot an arrow at her, which she repelled with a flick of her tail. The third managed to get under her guard, impaling her with his curved sword. The attack sliced through her armor but stopped dead on her scales. The surprise startled the young elf, exposing him to a headbutt from Nashariel.

The dragokin threw her spear at the archer, caring not for a precise strike, then tripped the other melee elf with her tail. A pained moan confirmed that the spear had found purchase.

She turned, unmanifesting her favorite weapon. The trio was on the ground, bleeding and groaning. Nashariel crossed her arms, frowning. “What was that?” She switched to Light, activating her healing aura.

“Rala, first thing, you could hit your companions with that arrow, and second, just sitting in the backline doesn’t make you immune from someone’s attention.” The girl said to the archer. She pointed at the melee. “Hitting a target from two different angles is a good start, but I specifically asked for teamwork, not that.”

“And how else were we supposed to hit you?” The dual-sword user complained.

“As I said: teamwork. You went in blindly, having no idea about any of my stats, preferences, weak points, blind spots…” She kept going for a while, listing everything with her fingers. At each thing, the elves’ heads dropped lower. “… and so on. Working in a team means that, when possible, one must cover for each other’s weaknesses. Once your attack fails, your companions must be ready to negate your enemy’s counterattack. This creates a true chain from which an opponent has a hard time coming out of.” She concluded, watching the dubious expressions of her students. They and their stupid obsession with personal glory!

After calming herself, she broke into a genuine smile. She listed all individual merits. “Rala, that opening arrow was as silent as it could get; if I wasn’t that perceptive and helped by an additional limb, that could be a 1 hit kill. Just decide if you wanna be that kind of archer or a more close-combat one.” The young elf stood more upright. “Laos, as a dual-weapon combatant you must fight in more open spaces. Good thinking about aiming for my neck, since you knew that my armor was too heavy, but work on your footing. Losing your balance in a fight will kill you faster than you can say ‘duck’.” The other nodded with a brief chuckle. Finally, Nashariel looked at the last elf. “Delos, don’t hyper-focus on your strike: should it fail, you’ll be a sitting duck. You pierced my armor, so that’s a plus, but you might want to reconsider your weapon choice. Curved swords are amazing at slashing, but you like piercing attacks much more.” She let out a grin, summoning her weapon. “Might I suggest you a spear? Or, if you feel like refusing the obviously superior choice, you might want to pick up a falchion or a halberd." She added, forming the weapon in her hands. Delos chuckled.

Unmanifesting her weapon, Nashariel helped the trio to get up. They thanked her for her insights and went back to their duties.

Nashariel couldn’t stop smiling. My Lady knows how much I missed this. I didn’t know either, actually. She let out a content sigh, then the next people in line came ahead. Her bouts had become popular, once people talked about the Ranger she ‘defeated’ in a single strike. The dragokin had tried to shush these rumors, but there was nothing she could do. She suspected that the Ranger in question spread them, for some reason.

The elves hadn’t entrusted her with the kids, yet, and in turn, she hadn't talked about her true nature. As the Grandmaster said, the fewer people knew about her nature and skills, the better. Her recent meeting with the flaming lizards had confirmed that. And the priest, now that she thought about it. I wonder if they caught that guy…

Refocusing, Nashariel kept swinging, trying to pummel the concept of teamwork in these people. She briefly wondered if those hundreds of deaths against the dragons could be avoided if they all worked together. Nashariel redoubled her efforts, adding her elements into the mix.

Delos pov

The older elves dragged their sorry butts inside the inn. That demonic Astillian had mauled them, then healed, then re-did it again. The way she smiled all the way added to her obviously demonic nature, to the Winter Court her Dragokin tag!

Her companions were less admirable, as they lazed most of the day inside the inn, but they were alright. The other girl had the most amazing voice anyone had ever heard.

Delos noticed that the brown-haired one, Dan, was entertaining some children with knife tricks. The blades were poisoned, but he seemingly didn’t focus at all. The elf found himself staring against his will.

Once the Astillian finished, he decided to strike up a conversation. “Is she always like this?” He really needn’t specify who he was talking about.

The other laughed. “She already destroyed your soul, uh? Good, now you’re on the favorable side of the wind.”

“The what?” Does smell play a role here?

“It’s all downhill? It will be easier? Something like that. Damn, I miss the ocean…” The last part, the human added with a distant look.

What’s the ocean? “So she did this to you too, once? She said to have trained you in the past.”

The permanent semi-smirk of the human turned into a grimace. "Y-yeah. She was tasked by our instructor to train us kids. At first, she had no idea of what to do," he chuckled, his smile returning. "She learned, though. Don't take it as boasting, but we are some of the best recruits in a while because of her training. Resistances, tactics, fighting higher-leveled monsters since we were young… she made this possible, or she eased it."

"Why did your superiors give her this task?" Delos didn't know how things worked in Varastill, but sure as the First Hunter's strikes, children didn't train other children here.

"She's talented, as you yourself can testify," Dan answered, somewhat evasively.

“…And?”

“And that’s all I’m gonna say about it, my dude.” He winked at him.

Ignoring the growing number of questions accumulating in his head, Delos pressed on. “Another thing: why is she obsessed by these ‘ducks’? I heard her nominating them at least a dozen times.”

Dan actually bursted laughing. “Ducks are birds. Ferocious, but not really dangerous. Why the obsession? I have no idea, honestly. We have something like a hundred gold, each, bet on the reason why, but she doesn’t answer.”

That woman gets weirder and weirder by the minute.