Alix & Esme

[The International]

Alix & Esme

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The following story is set in the city of Beinost, which replaced Anebrilith in the thread Aint No Rest For The Wizard (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?20221-Ain-t-No-Rest-For-The-Wizard&p=158289&viewfull=1#post158289) by Caden Law. The use and expansion of College Arcana and Neesal Danfras have been approved. The Level 1 profile of Esme Villeneuve (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?20831-Esme-Villeneuve-(NPC-level-1)&highlight=Esme+Villeneuve) and the Level 0 profiles of Alix (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?19097-The-Villeneuve-Family&highlight=Esme+Villeneuve) and the Sisters (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?19129-The-Villeneuve-Family-Part-2&highlight=Esme+Villeneuve) were used in this story. It is the sequel to The Three Ouellets (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?19428-The-Three-Ouellets&highlight=Esme+Villeneuve), but it is not required reading.


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“I believe that is everything, my Human friend.” an elderly elf from across the wooden counter said to Esme Villeneuve as he filled the leather duffel bag with seemingly random items. Esme knew Jelcarta the Apothecary was elderly because of one singular detail, his platinum beard. It was the only sign of age Raiaeran Elves showed. Esme would have probably had a beard himself were he in his original Raiaeran form. “Cactus root from the Black Desert, memory potion, and my last four ounces of canine powder.”

“Thanks, Jelcarta.” Esme said as he closed the brown leather bag. He browsed the small shop with his hazel eyes one last time. There were large gaps in between items. He had frequented the most successful apothecary in Beinost for the last three thousand years. Never had he been able to see the walls. “Running out of stock I see?”

“The war makes my items high in demand, and its chaos keeps me from resupplying.” The shopkeeper paused for a moment. He had something important to say to Esme. “You know... I appreciate that you appreciate the full breadth of my people's culture. Before the war, most Humans came, reveled in song magic, hit on our women, and then they left.”

“Well, if it changes anything I deal in the song magic too, hence this baby on my back.” Esme said with a princely smile as he patted on the classical guitar strapped to his back. “But I have a feeling you have something more to say.”

“If you appreciate us so, then why is it that you only come now?” Jelcarta raised a finger and shook it as he shook his own voice. “Why, only after Xem'zund is defeated and those Black Elves are at our doorstep, do you and your family arrive?”

Esme smiled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Because I was saving those Black Elves from destruction thus leading to your demise. Tough titties, bitch. Esme wanted to say that, but he didn't. “Sir, what can simple merchants like us do?”

“Enough to see a Snowdrop fall on your nose.” Esme's bushy eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Julcarta pointed outside just as he said: “Nieninque”

Just outside the window there stood a Raiaeran man for which the world froze. Passer-bys slowed their gait to confirm who they were looking at, but they couldn't stare for long, for the shimmering Silverwind armor was a mirror for the afternoon sun. The men in his entourage carried flags of winged blades that swayed triumphantly in the wind. By looking at Prince Turgon Elanesse and his men as they stared at Esme, one would not know that Raiaera was in shambles. If there was one thing the High Elves knew how to do, it was keeping up appearances. Esme didn't dignify their actions with a response. Instead he opened the front door of the apothecary and began to cross the stone street without acknowledging their presence.

“Do you hear the music in the distance?” A smooth voice said from the Elanesse's direction. That was the code phrase Esme needed to hear, but he kept walking in a slim hope that the Prince would assume he was mistaken. But then he heard it again with a slight rise in volume. “Do you hear the music in the distance?”

Esme rolled his eyes before he turned around with a dry smirk and said: “Only when I put my hands over my ears.” The two approached and met in the center of the road, where Esme quietly addressed the blonde Elf. “Might I suggest a little more discretion when you attempt to activate a free agent. You could blow his cover and lose him permanently. How did you find out about me anyways?”

“Much is revealed when a nation's infrastructure is torn to pieces.” The Prince put his hands behind his back and began to walk down the pristine stone cobble street. Esme and the entourage naturally followed. Turgon remained tranquil as he gazed upon whitewash cottages and towers along the street. And to think, tens and thousands of homeless Raiaerans were holed up in a shady makeshift camp just a mile east of them. “Secrets become common knowledge without someone to keep them.”

“And how common has knowledge of me become?” Esme mirrored Turgon's tranquil state although he panicked inside. It wasn't himself he was concerned about, but more so about his family. His wife and children were spies just like him, and spies were nothing but criminals who did bad things for a good government. Lying, cheating, stealing and killing were all just as traditional as evening dinner for a Villeneuve. If information of their exploits fell into the wrong hands, be it those of a cunning adversary or an unwitting bystander, they could be interpreted in a very destructive way. Esme and his family could be considered international criminals.

“Enough so that I know you are not alone. You are never alone.” Son of a bitch! Esme said in his head as he heard Turgon say that. The Prince continued. “Your clan is one to be reckoned with. One would say that together the five of you could do anything. But we only need you and your... ancient ways.”

Esme smiled and made a great nod of epiphany. The 'ancient ways' the Prince spoke of were the universal practices of magic that derived from various supernatural and occult sources from around the world. Every great culture of the world had its own sources, but Raiaera's took a back seat to song magic. An Elf requesting a Human's assistance in magic nowadays only meant one thing... “Detective work. I take it you know my rate?”

“I do, and I'm willing to pay it. Follow me. Silverwind has a rather curious murder on its hands.”

[The International]

Somewhere in the western most edges of Beinost there stood a pristine grove that seemed to never see the blight of the late necromancer. Oaken columns held up the powdered blue sky with ease as their countless bony fingers expanded out to form a light canopy. Pearl white sunlight pierced the top layer in sparse rays, and called one's attention to the plush carpet made out of crème flowers, the timid deer and the sly foxes in their daily dance, and the dead woman lying naked and in the fetal position. But even the vision of her seemed pristine, elegant, and... Raiaeran.

Roots and vines had wrapped around her legs like chestnut leggings and emerald leaf decorations that ended at her thighs. The trail of well-kept golden pubic hair that led up to her navel still had the diamond drops of the morning's dew. It was there that an intricate brown tattoo of tribal design wrapped around her ribcage and rounded out her petite breasts. A scarf made of long olive branches and and bright purple flowers draped her collar bone, but managed to keep a pair of emerald shoulders bare. One of her petite hands managed to serve as a makeshift pillow for her peaceful face to rest upon, while the other one spent its final moment caressing the fertile soil beneath the bed of flowers. Finally, lodged in the right side of her blonde hair was a lotus flower of at least twenty pink petals.

“Whoever dispatched of Elanque Tarsin left quite a sight to behold,” Turgon said as he shook his head. “We know for a fact that she never had any tattoos. The theory in progress is that she was murdered somewhere else, brought here, and decorated. Perhaps the tattoos were applied just before her death by the killer.”

“This is the prettiest murder I have ever seen in my life. You Elves sure know how to do everything in style,” Esme said as he clapped his hands together and approached the body. He was stopped before he could touch it.

“Wait!” The Prince put his hand up as a signal of halt. He whispered with one of the examiners, most likely the former head of the investigation. A moment passed and he finally spoke. “Feel free to investigate. Please keep touching to a minimum. We would like to do our best to leave everything as it is for now.”

“Believe it or not, Prince, I've done this before.” Esme knelt in front of the body and reached for the free hand. “But you haven't, have you? Baby's first time.”

“I heard that.”

“Good.” He wiggled at the fingers then looked up. “She died here. Notice how the fingers don't move very easily? That's rigor mortis, which sets in fairly fast. And these flowers on her shoulders...”

“What about them?” The Prince said as he rubbed his chin.

“They aren't really purple,” Esme said as he flicked one of them. A tiny purple cloud evaporated from its surface, revealing its true off-white color. “These are irises just like the rest of the grove. My guess is they grew at an accelerated rate to accumulate the ectoplasm that made them purple.”

“That makes the suspect supernatural?” Turgon asked as he shrugged his shoulders. “Or perhaps the method of murder was supernatural thus leading to leftover ectoplasm?”

“Nice try, but the victim was of supernatural makeup. Ectoplasm comes from supernatural beings that have been killed or harmed, although...” Esme began before trailing off as his eyes traced the body of Elanque from top to bottom. “I don't think it came from her. There would have been an amount proportional to her body mass if it had... Hold on.”

“What!? What do you see?”

“A needle. There's been a recent injection in the lumbar region near the spine.” Esme directed everyone's attention at a red mole between the dimples in her lower back. “Pretty little Elf.”

“Indeed she was,” Targon said as the investigating party lowered their heads in mourning at the mention. “Was she poisoned?”

“Maybe, but that doesn't explain a few things. Take a look around you,” Esme said as he stood straight up and looked both ways. “Do you notice something lacking in this area?”

“We haven't the time to play games, Signore Villeneuve.” The Prince folded his arms and shifted his weight onto one leg.

“Really? That's a shame. Well, here's the answer. This forest is abundant in monarch butterflies.” Esme had raised his voice condescendingly, a smile on his face as he opened his arms and circled the body “Do you know the spiritual significance of monarch butterflies, Prince?”

“They are said to carry the spirits of those who have died.” Targon said as he shrugged his shiny armor clad shoulders. “What does that have to do with this investigation?”

“They are all over this grove, but for some reason they are nowhere near this immediate area.” Esme lunged towards a member of the investigation team and raised a finger near the man's face. “Butterflies aren't afraid of Elves, or Humans, or any other intelligent being, so why aren't any within our reach? Because they need to protect the spirits of the dead from any supernatural disturbance. How about I provide another example?”

In one swift swoop, Esme's trusty guitar was armed and ready to prove the impossible. He began to play a soft but energetic composition of music. The people around glanced at each other for some sort of answer. What was this eccentric Human doing. “See how quiet my guitar sounds? Watch this.” Esme kept playing as he walked away. At some point during his walk the guitar began to resonate in the air as its melodic chords bounced off of the trees around them. “Now you hear an echo, correct? That is because of the effects magic has on the physics of sound around us. It leaves behind things in the air that keep sound from traveling the way it should. It's the same magic these butterflies that carry the spirits of the dead are so afraid to come near. It's magic specifically pertaining to spirits, ghosts, the supernatural.”

“And what about the blood on the tree?” Targon asked as he pointed an armored finger to the crimson red streak on a brown trunk. “We know it does not belong to Elanque. She did not suffer any strikes that would bring about blood.”

Esme quickly flipped his guitar back onto his back and approached the tree in question. Without hesitating he extended his hand and said: “Your sword, Prince?”

“Never,” Targon said with his pale chin in the air.

“I'm not requesting the pommel. Just the end of the blade.” Still, Esme was granted no compliance. He rolled his eyes as he drew his own rapier with his right hand, and squeezed the tip of it with his left. “You just missed out on a golden opportunity to cut a Human.” Cardinal fluid dripped from his index finger, which was all he needed. He placed his hand on the red streak and scratched his head in a ponderous fashion. “This is a technique I learned from the Haidian Vampires. What we have before us is the blood of a pure male Elf. He's no more than one generation removed from the War of The Tap. His grandmother probably told him stories of those times, which means he's no less than a few thousand years old. I think that's all I can get from this sample. Anything else?”

“There is one more thing. Elanque was a Ranger, which is why this case is top priority. She excelled in information gathering and espionage, and during her time of murder she was working with a partner.” Targon signaled his subordinates to move aside.

Behind them stood a Human woman with sanguine locks that reached past her shoulders. Her bright hazel eyes complimented the jovial expression on her bisque face, which was lightly sprinkled with cinnamon freckles. The scent of cardamom filled Esme's lungs as she approached with a befitting demeanor. Strong yet sweet. Astringent yet cool. Distinct yet familiar, very familiar.

“Hello, Honey,” Alix Villeneuve said with a sly smile.

[The International]

Esme crossed his arms and shook his head as he looked off into the distance. This was not good. Not only had entire family's civilian name, Villeneuve, been compromised, now they had two of them in the same place at the same time. The situation was getting closer and closer to the ultimate cover up, which Esme and his wife hadn't done for sixty years, and his children had never done. This would be hard for the three of them, which was why Esme didn't make a decision on it immediately.

“Your wife is a suspect in this investigation until we have determined otherwise,” Targon said in an apologetic tone with his hands together and his head dipped in servitude. Even though this was his first time, even the Prince knew it wasn't her. “Alix is under official detainment, and must stay with the team for as long as she is considered as such, but we see no reason to restrain her as long as she remains as cooperative as she has.”

“I know you aren’t going to take my word for it,” Esme said as he directed everyone's attention to an ornate wooden bench in the distance. “But this definitely isn’t how my wife kills people.”

“That’s what I told them. To dispatch of Elanque like this is so…” Alix looked at the body in disgust. It wasn't necessarily Elanque that perturbed her. It was the sadistic way in which she was left. “ It's so... avant garde. Plus I have an alibi.”

“Which we are checking up on as we speak,” Targon said in a reassuring nod.

“You know I have to ask you a few questions,” Esme said as he took a few steps towards his wife and leaned in. He knew how Alix was. There was something she wasn't telling these people, something that she would tell him, but not in front of everyone. Hopefully she could hint at something that would tip him off. “Right?”

“The same questions they’ve asked me three times already?” She leaned in and placed her forehead against his in a routine display of affection. Unfortunately for Esme, that's really all it was. Alix was in a playful mood today, which made her difficult to deal with. She was going to make him work for that something she would have told him. “Of course I do. Maybe I’ll tell you something special.”

Esme sighed and turned away. “When was the last time you saw Elanque?”

“About a day ago,” Alix said with an unflinching hazel eye. “She was going on a date with some guy she met at a candlelight vigil we attended a few days before.”

“Did you ever see this guy?” Esme said as he turned his head halfway so he could see his beloved in his peripheral vision. Perhaps she would hint at something here.

“No. His name was Ahnae. Just Ahnae. She said his hair was brown with peach skin and ears that pointed horizontally instead of vertically.” Alix's eyes went up recalling the information. This was an honest recollection. There was no hint here. “I left before they met. Apparently he saved her from a catfight that went down after I left, and she felt like she owed him dinner. I knew that was code for ‘date’.”

“Why did you leave?” That was a question of particular concern. Alix never left a partner during a job, even if she didn't like said partner.

“I had some things to do in the morning so I slipped out,” There it was. That was the hint. Alix never left a partner for something so small, and no attendee would dare leave a candlelight vigil early. If she really did leave early, it wasn't because of some small reason like that. “But she knew I was leaving.”

“What were you two working on together?” Esme said with a smile. He knew she wasn't going to answer that question, and if she did it was going to be a bold faced lie. However, even that would give him something.

“Now you know I'm not at liberty to discuss that,” Alix said as she put her hands on her tiny hips. “What I can tell you is that Elanque often worked more than one job at once, and I do believe she had at least one other job at the time of her murder.”

“That's good to know,” Esme said with a nod. “Was there a safe house?”

“Yes. I can take you to it.”

[The International]

Elanque was a good spy.

Not because of her nearly perfect success rate in fulfilling her patriotic duty. Not because of her amazing combat abilities, which failed to save her life. She was a good spy because she had the cunning to hide her safe house, the place in which a spy hid all of their tools, weapons, and all the damning evidence against them, in plain sight. Targon and his entourage looked upon the whitewash Beinost townhouse in expressions befitting a confused puppy. Heads tilted, eyes widened, and long ears pointed in the varied directions of a compass.

“I imagined a dark lair in a remote location riddled with booby traps.” Targon's hands went out in a quizzical manor. “Are you certain this is it?”

Alix nodded. One of the soldiers began a short trek up the flight of stairs that preceded the front door. Just as his boot touched the third step a bronze fluid of sewage and bile sprayed out of a conveniently placed vent a few steps up at head level. The others retreated covering their noses and shielding their faces. It was just as effective as a bomb. As if that weren't enough, the duped peon whose face was covered in waste retreated to the bronze railing only to find that it was as hot as a frying pan. His sizzling hands hissed until he yelped and jumped back into the sidewalk.

Elanque was a good spy indeed.

“Alix.” Esme mumbled as he crossed his arms and looked at his wife, who hid a sinister grin just beneath the surface of her innocent face. Those were just warnings left by the late Raiaeran spy. A lethal booby trap lay in wait.

“Okay. Okay.” Alix started for an alternate flight of stairs heading for the basement of what appeared to be a separate building. She doubled back. “But that was still funny, right?”

Esme's face was petrified in a perturbed look for what seemed to be an eternity... until the humor suddenly flashed out in an ear to ear smile. “You sure do know how to brighten my day!” he said with an outburst of laughter. The couple shared a moment of mutual enjoyment before they looked to the rest of the party, none of whom were amused.

The Prince had an especially intimidating growl oscillating from his tooth clenched mouth. “Feel free to open the basement door yourself, interloper.”

Alix saluted the military man before she jumped down the steps and kicked the wooden door off its hinges with a base like thump. “No more traps after this. Just puzzles.”

The darkness of the basement somehow became the archway of the front door, and one by one Targon and his team entered. The inside of Elanque's safe house looked no different from any other, and once again the Prince's peons were perplexed. However, he had learned his lesson. “I surmise nothing is as it seems.”

“You're learning.” Esme said as he turned to the rest of the party. “Like my wife said, there will be no more booby traps so you have nothing to fear, but in order to maintain the integrity of possibly sensitive information you need to keep your hands off of a few things. Do not disturb any drawings, paintings, sculptures, or any other visual art. If the furniture seems to be nailed to the floor, treat it with care. And do not, I repeat, do not try to open any boxes.”

“What if your wife was lying?” The literally shit-faced elf said from the back of the group.

“I didn't lie.” Alix said as she shrugged her shoulders. “I simply refrained from telling the whole truth.”

“That's what we do.” Esme said with a grin. “We're interlopers.”

Targon signaled the party to begin searching and they scattered about like wild prairie dogs. Esme shook his head in shame at the people he once called his own. Although he had abandoned his original Raiaran form more than three millennia ago, and his allegiance to the High Elf country long before that, at the moment it felt like yesterday.

“Don't be so hard on them, Love. They're nicer than they look.” Alix said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Even though they confiscated all of my weapons, they allowed me to keep something of sentimental value.”

Esme's crimson haired mistress unbuttoned her white blouse to expose a sweet crème anglaise cleavage. She lightly caressed her collar bone then allowed her hand to slip into valley and come up with a small diamond. He responded in kind, taking his own diamond out from his pocket as he looked at her with a flirtatious gaze.

Was that sexy, or was that sexy? Alix's sly voice echoed in the corridors of Esme's mind, bouncing from one end of his skull to the other. These were the diamonds from the Crown Jewels of the late Queen Valsharess of Alerar. Upon stealing them, the Villeneuves discovered that those who held them were able to communicate telepathically.

So sexy, Esme responded in his mind. He directed his wife's attention to the room to signal to her that they should be looking around to keep up appearances. She immediately turned to a coffee table and looked under it. Now that we've distracted them tell me about last night.

You know I'm not one to go for gut feelings but... Alix paused and peered out the window with a pensive look. I had a bad feeling. It felt like there was an extremely negative energy lurking around, and it was directed towards me. I told Elanque. I told her we needed to leave, but being the patriotic Raiaeran she was...

... She refused to leave. Esme leaned against the wall. He could tell she was clearly disturbed.

This Ahnae. Alix crossed her arms and began to pace back and forth. I think I even passed him on the way out. She had a run in with a particularly testy woman. Emotions were running high.

If this energy was strong enough for you to follow then she must have felt it too. Don't beat yourself up. Esme stepped forward and made eye contact with her. Now did you lead everyone here because there's a real lead, or is this a mere distraction.

I'm not a detective like you. Alix crossed the room and began to examine an ornate oaken desk. And, believe it or not, bringing the Elf brigade here wasn't a ruse. Do you have any ideas?

Were there any reflective surfaces like water, glass, or mirrors at the vigil? Alix nodded. Esme smiled. Then let's disappear.

Alix directed him to come near. As he did she embraced him at the mid section and pulled the drawer of the desk in front of him. With a violent jiggle, the hardwood floor slipped away plank by plank until a dark void beneath swallowed the two of them whole and closed back up again. It would be five minutes before anyone would notice that Alix & Esme had disappeared.

[The International]

The sunset of the waning day created a floral sky that draped the couple in a marigold glow as they walked along the murky carpet of moist grass and mud. The full acre courtyard that surrounded Bard's Fountain was once a lush emerald sea, but a group of hundreds in mourning could do that to a yard. The chilling wind of the golden ocean to the east carried a mix of sea salt and pollen that tickled Alix's nostrils resulting in a mouse squeak of a sneeze. That ended a trend of awkward silence that had permeated the atmosphere around them since they had slipped out of the townhouse.

“So...” Alix paused as she rubbed her nose. “Elephant in the room. They addressed us by our civilian name and knew we were spies. That means they know our children are spies.”

“Yup.” Esme said as he dropped his head in a conflicted chuckle.

“Should we do the cover-up? Change our civilian name, permanently change our form, abandon our ship. It'll be hard for the kids, especially Maelle since she has so many civilian friends.” Alix scratched her head in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “We'd have to eliminate anyone who can make a connection.”

“Nah.” Esme shrugged as they closed in on the gray stone fountain. The towering statue of a Raiaeran bard that stood in the center of the pool sprayed forth a curtain of water from the end of his classical guitar. “I like our civilian name. I don't feel like changing it.”

“That's because you picked it.” Alix rolled her rolled her hazel eyes as she sat at the stone edge of the pool and dropped a polished ruby nail into the water. “What? None of the cover names I chose were good?”

“Some were good. Most were a little girly if you ask me. But maybe we could um...” Esme paused for a moment before he sat down and looked at his wife. If there was a serious moment this was it. “Maybe we could pledge.”

“Woah!” Alix was blown back in shock. What her husband was suggesting was a huge change of direction in the career of a spy. He was basically suggesting that they burn themselves before someone else burned them. “Who would we pledge to?”

“You know who Alix. The only people who know how to have fun in Althanas these days. Besides it's time for us to go home. We all love it there.”

Alix gave a deep sigh of exhaustion as she looked away and rubbed her forehead. She pondered for a moment, a moment that Esme dare not interrupt. After a while she turned her back and lifted her hair. “Let's get this over with. It's been a long time since I've done this with you. I should close my eyes, correct?”

“Correct.” Esme said as he placed the thumb and the index finger of his left hand on the peach fuze of Alix's neck. He dipped his right hand into the water. “Now think back. Try to remember the vigil. Not so much about the little details, but more so about what you felt.”

The clear water immediately ceased to reflect the setting sun's golden light and began to show the dark starlit night. The vision descended upon a nebula of somber candle lit faces, and after a brief moment it focused on one, that of a sorrowful Alix. The vision darted in every direction until it found the tear glazed face of Elanque. Only a little bit longer before he would find the auburn haired elf whose ears pointed sideways. When it finally found him it was as if the fountain jumped up and smacked Esme with a wave of revelation. Never in five thousand years would Esme have guessed it would be this man. “Your partner wasn't the target, Alix.”

“I was?” Alix said with a calm voice. “So who's after me? Ahnae?”

“His name isn't Ahnae.” Esme said as he lifted his hand out of the water. The vision dissipated in the tiny ripples of the water. “You don't know the guy, but you've heard of him. You've heard plenty of him.”

Before he could say the name, Esme was struck in the face with a massive blunt force that sent him tumbling into the shallow pool of water. The agent rose just as quickly as he was knocked down, and with the ring of a bell his rapier emerged and aimed the rays of the setting sun at the small army that was Targon's brigade.

“Do you want to know how many of my men are charging a lightning bolt, interloper?” The Prince said with a completely blank face, but the slow crescendo in his voice indicated his fuming anger. “Do something, anything, to give my men a reason to send a lighting bolt into a pool of highly conductive water!”

“You know, honey, we did just ditch them out of sport.” Alix said returning to her light hearted self. “It was a bit of a soar move.”

Esme looked into the distance and pondered for a moment. “Yea. You're right. It was a soar move.” He pointed at the prince as he dropped his rapier. “But you got my guitar wet, and I won't take that lightly, buddy!”

“Consider us even.” The Prince raised a hand, and his peons apprehended the pair of spies. Esme's weapons were seized and they took the two of them to a pair of horse drawn carriages. That was when Esme began questioning the situation. Up until now the Prince was just doing his duty, but was it absolutely necessary to put the two of them into two separate carriages? And how did they make it here to the Bard's Fountain so quickly?

“Wait... Wait. You can't put her in there! Put me in that carriage instea -” Esme fell silent after a jilt of Istien electricity surged through his body. His limbs became led, and his consciousness went into hibernation.

[The International]

Esme was beside himself when he regained his consciousness… literally. He opened his eyes and looked to his right to see his own body slumped in the corner of this dark carriage like a rag doll. He only partook in this for a brief moment before he turned away and examined his captors, the Prince and two of his Silverwind subordinates. He hated looking at himself while using Astral Projection as he was his own worst style critic.

“Fucking pests.” Targon mumbled as he glanced out of the small window. “I don’t understand the use of employing a family of Human free agents. How can one trust them, especially when they serve every major power? It seems to be a recipe for disaster in my opinion.”

“The dossier said they kept sensitive information to themselves.” One of the humble soldiers said. “And it seems they were willing to perform menial and questionable tasks that our own wouldn’t. Lie, cheat, steal, kill without question or cause.”

“All the more reason to fear them!” Turgon snapped back at his servant with a hissing voice of frustration. He calmed himself before he continued. “They seem amoral in nature, working only for preservation and elevation of the entity that is commonly known as Villeneueve. How can one trust them? Besides, all it took was a generous dose of chaos to expose the information we found on them. What would happen if the same misfortune fell upon them in another country?”

Esme grinned at the notion as he stood. They had protocols for such circumstances. As amusing as this conversation was he had to see if his wife was okay. He turned and stepped into the rear wall of the carriage; his ethereal limbs tingled as he phased through the vessel. The one carrying his wife wasn’t far behind. Esme phased once more to pass through the horses and the second carriage. There was nothing quite like seeing the inside of an object. The thousands of tiny splinters that formed the wooden planks of the carriage were particularly interesting, but the image on the other side was particularly disturbing.

Alix sat on her knees in the middle of the carriage rocking into and out of conscious. Beads of cold sweat decorated her neck and arms like rhinestones. Her hands were restrained with enchanted rope that glistened in the retreating evening light like gold. Even Raiaeran handcuffs were pretty. Circling around the spacious cabin was a very familiar Elf with well kept auburn hair, oceanic blue eyes, and a peculiar set of ears that pointed horizontally instead of vertically. He scanned the walls of the cabin with his bare forearm raised before him.

“Looking for my husband?” Alix murmured. She dare not look up for fear that her eyes would roll to the back of her head. Whatever this man had done to Elanque, he had managed to do to Alix.

“Yes.” A deceptively youthful voice escaped the Elf’s mouth as he drew closer to Esme’s presence. The small hairs on his forearm rose as he brushed through Esme’s invisible arm. The static electricity he produced was undeniable, but there was nothing either party could do to one another. The spy was technically on another plane of existence. “There you are…” The man known as Kilick stared into the nothingness with a sinister grin befitting his demeanor. “It’s been a long time.”

So it has, Esme thought to himself wishing he could communicate. Too many millennia.

“Since you’re both present now… I’ll tell you a little story” Kilick sat back in the corner and crossed his legs as he allowed his face to disappear into the shadows. “Four thousand years ago, when I joined the Raiaeran Rangers I was charged with the task of maintaining an enclave of a few hundred members of the ancient Valinthe tribe that once ruled the plains of Alerar. You see, a few millennia before the tribe had been trapped in another dimension called the anti-Firmament by the Dark Elves. Luckily a few of our agents were able to rescue exactly one hundred and fifty of them from the trap. They were to protect the survivors and harbor their hatred for the Alerarans until the day came that they could free their brethren and destroy the nation from within. That was Raiaera’s kill switch. If ever there came a day that Alerar were to attack and we couldn’t defend ourselves, we would trigger that kill switch. But you two knew that. We triggered that kill switch a month ago when we received information that Alerar was going to attack.”

“Ah,” Alix chuckled quietly. The Villeneuves were responsible for destroying that kill switch. “You’re a fan of our work.”

“Yes, I certainly am!” Kilick said loudly with a sarcastic… or sadistic smile as he slapped his thigh in laughter. “In fact I didn’t even know who to credit the masterful infiltration and sabotage to until I stumbled across a top secret dossier with your name on it.”

Esme shook his head in shame. The Raiaeran spy didn’t even know the half of it. Alix was Valinthe, and Esme was the Elf that led the rescue of the survivors more than seven thousand years ago. Kilick continued.

“I don’t need to talk anymore.” He now spoke with a somber voice. “Simply put, you two and your children have signed Raiaera’s death warrant, and you will all pay.”

“Par... Pardon me, good sir.” Alix spoke with a sarcasm that could be sensed even in her current state. “But I'd like to offer a little constructive criticism. You should have just killed us when you got the chance. At least you would have had some satisfaction before our kids killed you.”

“Oh this isn't about death. No. That would be too easy for you. I'm going to give you what you gave the Valinthe, an eternity of imprisonment.You will be detained in a prison that cannot be broken out of by mere war and chaos.” Kilick leaned forward and traced his hand down Alix's lower back. “That injection I gave you is not a poison, although it probably feels like one.” He ordered the carriage to stop and began to step out. “Make your way to your prison or die.”

And with that the spy detective's supreme powers of deduction led him to realize what went down the day before. That ectoplasm at the scene of the murder did belong to Elanque because that injection found in her lower back was meant to make her supernatural. Those tatoos grew on her as she made her transformation, and when she died the spiritual forces of the grove rose to mourn her. Esme had heard enough. His presence evaporated and returned to his body. It was time to call the kids.

[The International]

When Esme opened his eyes this time, he was in his own body and subject to the conditions of such. His skull still throbbed in pain from the blunt strike that knocked him out earlier, and was only made worse by the rattling of the carriage. Beinost's smooth stone streets were the best in the world and yet the ride was still rough. The dim light now provided by a portable gas lamp irritated his eyes almost causing them to water. It was held up by Targon's timid right hand man so that the Price could finish the last few pages of the thick dossier.

“Quite a turn pager, I imagine.” Esme said with a grunt as he sat up. The same enchanted rope that restrained Alix wrapped around his wrists. They felt loose, but he knew better. Should he attempt to break free they would tighten like a python. He could feel the dense diamond in his right side pocket. In the Prince's haste he forgot to search him. After an awkward silence Esme spoke up again. “Do you have...”

“Yes! Yes, I do.” The Prince quickly said as he slapped the file closed. “So your family goes around the world selling goods by day, spying by night... Spying... I don't like that word, but I cannot surmise a more refined replacement. You have worked for all of the major powers of Althanas, and even some minor ones. Corone, Fallien, Alerar, Salvar, even Haidia when it existed. This dossier goes back about twenty six years, but I imagine you have been doing this longer than that.”

Esme nodded. For someone who had been quite dense and naive all day Turgon was suddenly demonstrating a remarkable perception all of a sudden. The spy kept quiet to see if the Prince could deduce further.

“For twenty six years our government has been privy to the majority of your tasks here and else where.” Turgon cracked open the file one more time to confirm his suspicions. “Your eldest child is around twenty six, is she not?”

Esme wanted to clap for the young looking Elf and pat him on the head, but something told him that would be too patronizing. He nodded again as he crossed his left leg over his right and casually burrowed his hands in his pockets, “We went to all the powers that be and were upfront with them about what we did, and then we offered our services to them.”

“I find it difficult to believe that our government would willingly let you into our boarders, much less hire you. And yet here lies the prof.” Another awkward silence followed as Turgon stared into the distance with golden eyebrows weighed down from the burden his brain was now carrying.

“Okay!” Esme couldn't help it anymore. He had to tease the boy a bit. “Let me help you out before everyone in here suffocates from the smoke pouring out of your ears. If you take a good look at our missions from every nation you'll notice one common trait among all of them. They are all dealing with internal affairs. We never directly or knowingly assist in one nation's dominion over another. The only exception being Corone's Empire and Republic.”

“So the ruling powers freely exchange the information of your deeds between one another whether they are enemies or friends as a system of checks and balances. Therefore if you dare step out of line they will go public with your deplorable deeds and claim that you acted alone. Your word against theirs.” The Prince's face of revelation soon melted into that of frustration. “This still doesn't exempt you from your behavior today. Any good investigator would deem your actions suspicious, which is why your wife is now our prime suspect and you are considered a conspirator.”

Turgon lectured on as if Esme were the child. Little did he know how old Esme truly was. At seven thousand years old, he and his wife were everyone's senior. He squeezed at the gem in his pocket and allowed the blade like edges of its flawless cut to press into his skin. It took his hidden sense of urgency and relayed it to the hearts and minds of his children. They instantly knew where to find him. He tuned Turgon out and closed his eyes, and eventually the Prince gave up talking. The passage of time began to become irrelevant.

[The International]

Esme became alert when the carriage stopped. The perplexed look on the Prince's face indicated to him that they weren't at their final destination. The Silverwind soldier poked his head out of the curtained window and had words with the driver. He turned back in and shrugged his shoulders.

“There is a homeless man in our way.” He said with that all too frequent face of apology.

“Oh this is so good it's got to give me a hangover.” Esme didn't even try to hide his satisfaction. He had seen this before, and couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't like his captors could do anything about it now. They attempted to punish him with a gaze of admonishment, but they weren't going to get him down now. “Gentlemen, meet our kids.”

It seemed as though the following explosion outside the carriage were on queue with Esme's formal introduction. It was so close that it sent them in the air. The cabin tumbled about as the men inside grunted and shouted in pain and shock. Esme was the only one who was calm as he curled up into the fetal position and took the beating. When it was over only he and the nameless soldier were conscious. The Prince lay on what was the ceiling of the vehicle with his limbs contorted in a variety of ways. They could hear shouts and swords clashing. The peculiar ring of one of those swords was quite familiar to Esme.

Before the soldier could lend support to his allies a thick black mist crept in through the now fractured door like a dozen onyx pythons. Not knowing what manor of malevolent magic and mayhem this was, the soldier retreated to the corner in haste. It was no use. The pythons decided to strike in unison, filling the cabin with darkness. While Esme was engulfed as well, he knew he would be fine, although he couldn't say the same for his silverwind companion. A great commotion followed. Feet and hands struck the walls with base thuds and swung at the air until the unmistakable sound of a gag ended it all.

“You didn't.” The mist evaporated to reveal Esme with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“No I didn't.” Before him stood a young woman whose porcelain skin was complimented by perfectly placed beauty marks and a button nose befitting an infant. The long sable hair that fell along her lithe frame managed to hide one of her icy blue eyes. She reached behind her flowing blouse of midnight blue to reveal Esme's trusty rapier, used it to cut the glowing restraints, and then tossed it to him. Ludivine, Esme's middle child, nodded and gave a faint smile. “Shall we?”

Esme stepped outside just in time to see Vespasian knock the driver of the second carriage to the ground using, of all things, his head. The youngest of the Villeneuve family didn't necessarily look like he could fight even now as he stood above the carriage driver in the middle of the Beinost street. His muscles were well hidden in his white long sleeve tunic, and innocent amber eyes mixed with his boyish black hair screamed of naivete. That was what was so dangerous about him for he was quite possibly the most intellectually gifted of them all.

“We have a problem!” The eldest child of the family stepped out of the second carriage with Alix on her arm. The yellow glow of the ornate streetlamp put a spotlight on her hazel eyes of concern. Her auburn hair hung as she struggled to keep her mother straight up. Eventually Alix stood on her own, but that did little to quell Maelle, and now everyone's, concern. It was a good thing they put her in the second carriage. It kept Maelle from flipping that one over.

“She's been poisoned!” Esme shouted as he rose his blade in the moonlight, and waved it to the North. “We need to get to the apothecary now!”

“Well then those horses that I just freed to immobilize the carriages would have been pretty useful huh.” Vespasian said as he hopped up onto the stone cobble sidewalk.

“No self-criticizing.” Esme said as he lent Alix a hand to step up to the sidewalk with them. “Just moving. Besides you three got here a lot faster than I thought you would.”

“That wasn't hard.” Ludivine said. “These guys had no support.”

Esme rose a fist as a signal to halt the entire group. They all did so and looked at their Patriarch in anticipation. He spoke deep and fast. “Go back to the second carriage and use it as cover. Alix, you get inside and stay inside. Vespasian and Ludivine, engage the oncoming enemy at close range, while Maelle and I cover you.”

Vespasian drew his International Rapier, Ludivine's black mist emerged and covered her body once again, and a violet aura radiated about Maelle's person. They all headed back to the second carriage. No one hesitated to follow his dictation. Neither would they hesitate to inquire. “What's going on?” Maelle asked.

“We have to dig in...” Esme said as he stood beside one of the large wheels. Esme knew for a fact that the head of Silverwind had more support than that. For his normal entourage to be gone meant one thing. Kilick was making his next move. The Prince's mission was to detain him and his wife, but there was only one branch in the Raiaeran military that was meant to kill with no questions asked. “The Rangers are coming.”

[The International]

The corner of Beinost's First and Fourteenth was lit only by dim streetlamps that stained the cobble stone sidewalks with a small orange glow that reached no more than a few feet out. The silver light of the night's full moon was more consistent, tainting everything in sight with an azure tone. The shops, adorned with white stucco were closed, and the townhouses, constructed of pure liliaceous hued stone, were dormant albeit occupied. Anebrilith, the city it had literally replaced overnight was a city that never slept. However here, in a city occupied by no more than five thousand Elves but built to accommodate at least four times that amount, there was plenty of time for sleep. For that brief moment everything was quiet.

Until the meandering sea breeze carried with it the sound of horseshoes striking in haste against the street. It didn't sound like many of them, but Esme knew better. They must have had support. Four mounted rangers approached with cloaks that inflated in the winds like the sails of a ship. Due to the narrow streets they were forced to charge one by one, which was perfect for Ludivine. The little ninja launched herself from the shadows of the pitch black alley in between two townhouses. Her hands were stretched forth as she leaped into the air, her arms were like the pale tentacles of a nautilus as they wrapped around the brown cloak of the mounted ranger, and her body was like that of a panther's as she brought the man to the ground.

“Archers!” Esme shouted as they emerged on the rooftops. Ludivine was upright with one jump, and she retreated to the cover of the tipped over carriage. A line of arrows followed her path until they struck against the wooden vessel. With an indistinguishable mumbling of Raiaeran words and a quick hiss a blue hot lightning bolt came down with a deafening clap from the sky, ending the downed ranger.

Vespasian didn't have to be as athletic as his older sister did to enjoy the same results. He had his Telekinesis, and with a press of the palm as he stepped out of the carriage, the second Ranger's head almost came off from colliding with an invisible clothesline. The Raiaeran's feet nearly touched the sky as he landed head first on the lime cement of the street. Timing was on Vespasian's side as the Rangers behind him failed to stop their heavy Raiaeran war steeds and trampled over him as they passed. Only then did the young spy move forward and pierce his throat with the International Rapier.

The waves of arrows were only slowed down by the warning shots of Maelle's pretty purple aura turned deadly. Every ten to fifteen seconds she launched an orb of deadly incandescent energy up at the top of the three story townhouses. Her accuracy was questionable, but her concern was legitimate. If the highly explosive orbs, one of which she used to flip Esme's carriage over with, made contact with the walls of the building it might very well hurt a civilian inside, or worse – make enough noise for the neighbors to hear.

Esme was having better luck. He too was launching orbs at the sharpshooters, only his were made of highly pressurized water. It exploded upon contact with any solid object sending out a dozen gallons of water that had been condensed into a sphere the size of his head. The first made contact with the building causing a giant splash of water. No harm done, but the second made contact with one of the eight archers, and launched him several feet back while effectively distracting the others.

The third Ranger turned around and made a bee line for Vespasian as his onyx black steed huffed out a plume of cool nighttime air. “I need cover!” Vespasian said as he rolled to the side to avoid an oncoming spear. The dodge was only partially successful as the end of the white blade cut through his left sleeve and slit his left shoulder. He grimaced in pain as he quickly rose and sought sanctuary in the shadows of a narrow alley. Esme summoned a wall of fire to rise as the Ranger approached the darkness in which his son retreated. The Ranger was not afraid of the flames, but his horse proved to be as it jumped on its hind legs and refused to follow its master's orders.

Speaking of support, Ludivine could have used some as the last Ranger stood outside the tipped over carriage she was now inside of. And Speaking of fire, he used one of his own to set the carriage aflame. She would either come out and fight, or die in there. Little did the Raiaeran fighter know that Ludivine had already left the carriage using her mist to mold her into the shadow of the townhouse beside it. However, something was amiss. Ludivine was the only one inside that carriage. Suddenly a violet explosion launched the Ranger off of his horse and into the very flame he created. If Maelle needed to make a shot, it was this one.

Now with the archers completely occupied with Esme and Maelle's projectiles Ludivine was able to hoist herself on top of their carriage and use it to leap towards the last mounted Ranger, and slice his shoulder with a vertical slash of her ninja blade. It sounded like a cut through fresh meat. It was a cut through fresh meat as it pierced his shoulder and sliced through his arteries. Her feet hit the ground at the same time as his body. With the threat to his son gone the Patriarch dropped the fiery wall only to see Vespasian sprint out with a broken rapier in hand. “That son of a bitch broke my sword!”

What son of a bitch? ...Uh oh.

“Esme Villeneuve.” The familiar voice of Prince Targon Elanesse echoed from the dark alley. This was bad. They could take on a brigade of Rangers without Alix, they could take on the Prince without Alix, but they couldn't take both forces without her.

“Oh.” Ludivine said as she nodded her head in revelation and scratched her head. “That's where he disappeared to.” Her eyes widened as the face burned red with anger emerged atop a suit of glimmering silver armor. Even in the moonlight it seemed to shine. Ludivine's hands went out in a quizzical gesture just before she took a few steps back. “How the hell did I miss you leaving?”

“I have tricks of my own.” The Prince said as he lifted his left foot. “Care to see one?” He slammed it to the ground to cause the ground to shake. It did so to the point that it bested even Ludivine's catlike balance. She didn't allow that to stop her retreat as she rolled like a log back to her family.

Esme stumbled out of the carriage and rose his blade to the Silverwind leader as he made his way safely behind it. “Did you even think to ask why this thing behind me looks like a damn porcupine? Someone's out to destroy my family by hurting my wife.”

“Dad.” Vespasian said quietly as he stopped by his father's side. The look of honest concern on his face lent concern to Esme. His gift of attention to detail was always to be heeded, however the Prince was still here and ready to apprehend the entire family or kill them if need be.

“And you are under investigation for the murder of a citizen of Raiaera...” He spoke with a guttural anger never before sensed before. It was matched in kind.

“What Raiaera!” The fire in Esme's eyes matched the fire that began to coat his form. “It's gone. It's all gone! The only people hanging onto that dead country is you and a dying breed of morons incapable of change, one of which has poisoned my wife because you decided to stick to procedure.”

“Dad.” Vespasian said. This time he attempted to speak over the explosion Maelle caused by striking the edge of one of the rooftops with her explosive orb. A handful of sharpshooters came tumbling to their deaths. If the fall didn't kill them, Ludivine would. “The sea breeze is gone. Listen.”

Still air was the first sign of a large scale Raiaeran Song Ritual. The second was of course the singing. A pair of unseen sopranos in the distance began to call out calm but ominous notes of darkness. The third sign came from the one the spell was cast on. Maelle's head popped out of the carriage as she shot off another orb. “Something's wrong with mom.” And there it was. “She's having... convulsions!”

Targon could hear it too. It all lined up too well for the spy to be lying about this one. They had done some elaborate schemes, but this would have been their best. The Prince raised his blade and shouted out a command to the archers. “Hold your fire.”

“They aren't listening to you, Targon.” Esme said with a sober voice and a somber face. He knew what was going to happen next. Now that the naïve Prince attempted to use his command, he was a liability. Before that moment he was considered to be on the Rangers side. If nothing else he could provide a good distraction for the Villeneuve's, but now...

A long arrow went straight through the right shoulder, and the Prince was grounded. A grunt of pain escaped his mouth as he dropped to his knees. He dragged himself to an angle where the carriage was between him and the archers, just like Esme had done. He hoisted himself onto the sidewalk and before he rolled into the shadows he spoke “I have reinforcements coming but you need to go. That spell is meant for her.”

And it was a spell that Esme never thought he would ever hear again. A chorus of at least fifty voices came into fruition. They sent through the air wave upon wave pan-diatonic clusters arranged in successive increasing then decreasing density sending him on a roller coaster of negative emotions. The voices were split, using at least eighteen different parts to raise the malevolent spirits around them and to crush the spirits of their targets, which was an epic achievement even for the Elves. The use of quadruple harmonies that intentionally created dissonance with unconventional chord progressions created an ominous atmosphere that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. This was the song magic of the long forgotten Enarlin.

In his seven thousand years in this world Esme had seen what Enarlin could do to people, and if his wife was the target, he could only imagine what Kilick's intentions were. His eyes were wide with true fear as he turned to the kid and said “Get your mother! We need to get out of here.”

Useless without his sword, Vespasian swept his mother up an took her out of the carriage to show to his father. Her eyes had rolled nearly to the back of her sweat drenched head and her body jerked even in her son's hands. Her mouth trembled as words struggled to escape. These weren't necessarily convulsions of seizures. It was the Enarlin disease infecting her body, and therefore she was conscious, but they were guessing as to what she was trying to say as they retreated down the alley past the Prince?

“Tre... tre tre.” Finally it came out. “Treasure Tree.”

“I know where that is!” Maelle said with a mixure of excitement and desperation. “It's close by. Follow me.”

They went through the alley to emerge on the parallel street of Aurient Avenue, where a crew of cloaked swordsman awaited. More Rangers. The chorus of doom still permeated the air. It was as if they were everywhere, but Esme's masterful ear could pick out the slight muffling. They were wearing dramatic masks, which had megaphones installed in them. There was no use in finding them as they could have been singing this from a very safe distance. The magic was strong, but they were all sure that Alix knew more about what was happening to her than they were. Maelle pointed to their left, where around thirty yards away a great oak tree stood in the Beinost town square. The Treasure Tree, as many people called it, reached higher into the sky than most of the edifices around it. The imposing figure was the only object that survived the destruction of Anebrilith, which was why it was given its name.

“G... Go. Go!” On Alix's command the family ran as fast as their feet could carry them down the street. By this time the regular people had been roused by the commotion outside. Windows and drapes all around them began to open like curtains to a great tragedy, and they were the stars. Ludivine tipped over a small wagon, while Esme turned around to cast a fire spell or two. This only served to slow them down a little. As they closed in on the tree, the organized mob of blades began to close in on them.

[The International]

The massive oak Treasure Tree of Beinost sat in the center of the city's town square, which was considered to be the epicenter of the city's day to day activity. The family passed the last building and into the clearing in which the tree sat, and then into a veil of crisp white light provided by a circle of special lamps made just to coat the forty foot tall specimen in an eternal spotlight. It was a stark contrast to the dark shadow it cast beneath its own far reaching branches. They didn't know exactly why they were retreating to an old tree, but each of them began to map out a strategy using it as their center piece. That is everyone except for Alix. And that song. They couldn't seem to get away from that song.

They turned around to face the Rangers just in time to see two pairs of legs reach for the sky and their backs crash to the ground with a great thud. The thick branches of the tree were just low enough to nearly chop two of the pursuers' heads of.

“Well played, Mother. Well played.” Vespasian said with a sly smile on his face as he looked at his mother in his arms. The others shot him a look seeking to be clued in. “We're standing under a root walker. Look.”

Vespasian directed their attention to the ground, where the tree's massive roots churned up the black soil and red clay and wove together to create its bipedal form. In the process it managed to catch the feet of two more Rangers, whose heads bounced off of the ground they so quickly collided with. They shielded themselves as large pieces of the earthen hued bark splintered about and shot in all directions to give way to a set of arms and hands. An approaching Ranger was blinded by the debris then knocked out cold as a colossal fist made of wood made contact with his face. Two others were caught in the giant emerald set of dreadlocks that was the root walker's branches as it shook about. It all began so quickly and ended just so. With a grunt from its shadow veiled face the root walker returned to its previous state.

“And that.” Vespasian said as he lightly placed his mother at the foot of the trunk. “Is why this thing was left over from Anebrilith. We should have known there was something special about it.”

“But these things never move.” Maelle said as she peered out past the tree where a light crowd of Elves was forming. They had been causing a commotion all night. The local authorities would be here soon, but it wasn't their arrest they feared. It was the documentation. “Root walkers have witnessed all sorts of things without interfering. Why did it defend us?”

“It defended your mother.” Esme said as he finally put all the pieces together. The ectoplasm at the crime scene did belong to Elanque. The blood was Kilick's, and there had to be a root walker nearby defending the spy. Alix was turning into what Elanque had become before she was killed. “She's turning into a nymph. She has to bond with a plant, preferably a tree, to become its representative spirit or else she'll die. Before she finds something to bond with the surrounding flora will act in her favor.”

“Is that what the singing is for?” Ludivine was now pacing back and forth in frustration. It was rare to see her like this. She wasn't yelling but her voice had a clear hiss of anger. “If that's what the singing is for we need to find the bitches and cut their throats.”

“Even if we could get to them on time that's not what the singing is for.” Esme said watching his middle daughter react to the news in her own special way. “There's an injection in the small of her back. It's probably a special potion of some type that's...”

“Then what's the goddamn singing for?” Her icy eyes couldn't contain the fire inside. Just then the singing faded away. The winds returned as indicated by the swaying to the emerald leaves that made up the root walker's hair.

“Everything smells like food now. Everyone smells like food now” Alix said with a voice of exhaustion as she sat up. Her hair, wet from her sweat, formed a veil of clumped locks that sat in front of her hazel eyes, which were slowly growing wider and wider. She was fixated on her son's bloody shoulder. “You smell like really good food.” She quickly rose to her feet and charged at Vespasian with a savage growl.

A stunned Vespasian couldn't find it in him to defend himself or even retreat from his mother. It would have been no use, for she was much faster than him. Fortunately the only one faster than her was able to intercept before she reached him. Ludivine rammed her shoulder into Alix knocking the Matriarch off of her feet. She held her mother on the ground as she regained her senses.

“Let me guess.” An Elf woman with golden locks that shimmered in the streetlights emerged from the gathering crowd of civilians. The symbol adorned mage's robe swung about her as she directed her way through the onlookers. “This is the infamous Villeneuve family of spies everyone has been talking about today, correct?” She said as she approached them. Esme raised his blade to the woman. Maelle's violet aura emerged and radiated about her. They were ready to strike if need be, even if there were witnesses. The woman raised her hands in defense. “I'm not your enemy. May name is Neesal Danfras. I'm acting head of the local College Arcana.”

“How do you know us?” Vespasian said as he shook himself out of his shock.

“Answer wisely.” Esme said as he took a brave step forward. “As you may have heard my wife is hungry and I'm more than willing to serve anyone up on a dinner plate right about now.”

“Kilick.” With Neesal's answer Esme stepped forward once more. She backed up as did those around her. “He's made copies of your dossier and sent them to all those with influence here, including myself. He was hoping to turn us against you. He forgets that those of us above the race war run this city now.”

“Wait! What?” Vespasian cocked his head forward to confirm what he had just heard. He looked to his father. “We're public now? What happened?”

“The chaos of the war here left our information public.” Esme stayed where he was with this rapier extended out to his target. “The same man that did this to your mother is the man that has sent that information all over town apparently.”

“Either way why should we trust her?” Maelle said as her powerful aura condensed into a sphere of deadly plasma before her.

“You'll just have to,” Neesal said fearlessly looking straight into the eyes of the grifter of the family. Perhaps Maelle's impeccable perception would assist her in detecting the Elf's intentions. “Which is understandably difficult at the moment, but if you want a solution to what that song did to her you'll come with me.”

“Dad,” Vespasian said as he emerged at his father's side. “What did that singing do to her. If the injection is turning her into a nymph what's the use of a song?”

“I have resources of my own.” Esme said as he sheathed his rapier and turned away. He didn't want to reveal just what that song had done to Alix just yet. They were in public. The best thing he could do was to walk away from this woman. Hopefully, but not likely, the children would follow suit. “Let's go.”

“Dad!” Ludivine shouted from atop her mother, who was no longer struggling but couldn't be trusted. “Answer him!”

“Besides that racist old Jelcarta, who also has your dossier.” Neesal didn't allow Esme to respond to them before she resumed her quest to get them to trust her. “All of your contacts have either been killed in the war, killed by Kilick, or in another country.”

“Quit avoiding the subject, Dad!” Maelle said with a calm but clearly stressed voice. “What did the spell do.”

After a long silence, the Patriarch finally spoke up. “Don't quote me on this because I could be wrong. I sure as hell hope I'm wrong, but that was a song spell from the forgotten school of Enarlin that adds a stipulation to your mother's nymph situation. She has to bond with a tree of the Red Forest.”

Maelle's divine aura evaporated into clouds of purple steam as she struggled with all her might to hold back her tears, Ludivine stood up as her jaw dropped, and Vespasian crossed his arms as he got lost in his own head. Esme's heart plunged into his stomach. Whether he knew it or not, saying it gave the fact weight, too much for his heart to handle. His blade and head lowered in unison. Alix, who had been listening attentively to it all rolled over to cover her face in grass. In her heart and mind, she knew it was true. This craving for blood and death was only the surface of the matter. For more than two hundred years she called a ship named The International her home. It was a place of security and familiarity, or at least it used to be. This cursed forest that she had only seen once in her seven thousand ears of life now replaced her beloved ship. Because of this... she wept, and her sobs echoed throughout the city square for all to hear.

Vespasian slipped past his father and followed Neesal as she nonchalantly turned away and walked. The youngest member of the family rarely took the lead in such a direct way, but he was making an executive order. Ludivine scooped up under her mother's arm and picked her up to follow Vespasian. Maelle followed suit as a stream of tears adorned each of her rosy cheeks. Esme had no choice. He had to trust her.

[The International]

The common citizenry of Beinost didn’t bother to follow Neesal and the Villeneuves, despite what had transpired before them. Instead they were focused on the fact that the Treasure Tree was a real life root walker. Rightfully so. There were maybe a handful of root walkers in all of Althanas, but they had one here. It was one more modern legend for the storied young city.

“Care to introduce yourselves individually?” Neesal said as she turned around. She walked backwards with her hands casually crossed in front of her chest. Her calm demeanor led Esme to believe that danger was her element.

“Apparently we don’t really need to, do we?” Ludivine’s voice possessed more of a sting when she was calm. A lock of sable hair managed to fall in front of a single eye as she hunched over to support her mother, who was temporarily drained.

“No you don’t. “ The Elven woman tuned to walk forward again. Her orange dress flowed in the air to indicate more haste to her walk. “I find it a force of habit to be polite and offer up pleasant formalities. You must be Ludivine, the assassin, the thief… the honeypot.”

“For the record,” Esme chimed in from the back of the group as he gradually caught up. “The honeypot part was not our idea.”

“And you are Esme.” Neesal turned only her head this time. “Supernatural reconnaissance and investigation.”

“Yea.” Esme said in a rush. “How far is your College?”

“Just around this corner here. See?” A great gilded gate of stainless finish came into view. At its center was a large version official seal of the College Arcana – a hexagon within a circle. A dot floated in each space between the circle and the sides of the hexagon. The Elven scholar sent an amber eyed glance of sympathy towards the teary eyed one. “And this poor young woman, the only one reacting normally to the situation, must be Maelle, the negotiator and grifter.”

“At your service.” Maelle curtsied as she crossed her arms seeming to cover herself from the coldness of reality.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Alix blurted out as she leaned on Ludivine’s shoulder. Her fatigue from the combination of the injection, the spell, and her attack on her son was clear. However, she still posed a danger, and she wanted everyone to know that. “But I want to rip my daughter’s throat out. Is that normal?”

“You’ve wanted to rip my throat out since I as fifteen.” Ludivine scowled as she allowed the others to pass through the gate before her.

The matriarch’s eyes slowly rose in contemplation. A tiny grin popped up in the corner of her mouth. “… Yea, you’re right, but I might actually do it now.” Her grin melted away.

“Oh please. I have three pressure points mapped out on you. You won’t take me down without going down yourself.” That was no lie. If anyone was going to have to kill Alix, it would be Ludivine. The both of them had spent years learning how to fight in Akashima. During their time there they adopted the belief that death by way of blade would be honorable and thus made it one of their many contingency plans. No matter how honorable, Ludivine didn’t want to have to resort to it. “I take it your instinct for survival is still strong.”

“Stronger than before.” Alix understood what her middle daughter was doing. Appealing to that sense while fully knowing that Ludivine wouldn’t hesitate might keep her at bay. “I won’t push it.”

“Speaking of Alix.” Neesal said as she popped her head out from behind the massive gate. “Out of everyone here, your infiltration work impresses me the most. You turned that simple report into a page turner.” She looked at the youngest. “You, however. Vespasian, correct? You must be the best at what you do. The report barely had any information on you.”

“Bitch, please.” Vespasian mumbled under his breath as he passed her.

“I heard that.” Neesal grunted as she heaved the massive gate closed.

“Good.”

“So how many people attend this college?” Esme said as he scanned his surroundings. It was like a portal back in time for him, a time before Eluriand when the High Elves’ architecture wasn’t so… High and Mighty. There was very little stone in sight; instead brick and plaster were the epidermis of the school. Fresco murals of rituals, new and old, covered every wall. Complex domes rested upon massive piers, and lamps of alabaster saturated the campus with a soft light.

“As of today.” Neesal pointed a slim manicured finger to the air as if to work an invisible equation before her. A smile quickly appeared on her rounded face. “None, although we are accepting applicants for the next season.” She waved a hand in the direction of the only glass dome in sight. “This way. The first thing we must do is sedate her.”

The humidity of the greenhouse was like a wet slap in the face as they entered. Various smells stuffed their nostrils. Neesal stopped at a wooden desk near the center of the structure, where the hanging leaves of a willow tree served as a curtain. She opened a few drawers before she found what she was looking for – a velvet sack of crushed putrid leaves. “Mr. Villeneuve, you wouldn’t happen to have a pipe on you?”

“Left it on the ship along with quite a few other things I wish I had brought with me.” The Patriarch’s eyes gazed up and into the past. “And to think I was just stepping out to purchase a few provisions and all of this happens.”

“No matter.” Neesal disappeared under the desk for a quick moment and she re-emerged with a long ornate pipe in her hands. She stuffed the grinded leaves into the end, and with a wave of the hand they were partially lit. She extended it out to Alix. “Inhale, hold it for a moment, and then slowly exhale. This will slow you down and partially sedate you, but not enough to rob you of your consciousness.”

“What is it?” Maelle said on her mother’s behalf as she sat on the corner of the desk.

“Dried cannabis sativa.” The Elven woman said without flinching.

“Never had it before.” Alix said as she reluctantly reached out for it. All three of her children looked upon her in disbelief. Maybe Neesal didn’t know it, but they knew good and well how long she and Esme had been walking this realm. All three of them had a difficult time believing that Alix hadn’t used cannabis in her seven thousand years.

“Well then you’re in for a treat.” Ludivine said as she smiled for the first time tonight.

“Wait.” Vespasian said as he held a hand up. “How do we know it isn’t laced with something?”

In her frustration Neesal snatched the pipe back and put it to her mouth. Her lungs inflated like a pair of blowfish and then she followed the action with a plume of smoke that extended from her nose and mouth. She jutted it back out to Alix. “I have let you into my home. Trust me.”

It was good enough for Alix, who took the pipe and followed suit. They were then led to the library. As new as it was the old volumes and scrolls did well to make this a suitable home. Their dust which saturated the air created seemingly solid pillars of light out of the soft moon’s rays that came in from the alabaster windows. An ‘aged’ smell filled everyone’s nostrils as they entered the main room. This was no Ankhas for they could actually see the other side of the building, but it was impressive nonetheless. Neesal disappeared into one of the isles, but spoke to make sure the family of paranoid spies could hear her.

“Mr. Villeneuve, you were correct in what you heard. The language was old Raiaeran, and while there are no written cases exactly like this one, I’m certain we can at least reference a solution. It’s the execution of that solution that may be the challenge.” She reappeared with a massive leather bound volume almost as large as her entire torso. She dropped it on to one of the tables with a massive thud causing the dust of the book to curl out in all directions. As she flipped the pages she mumbled to herself until she stopped at one. “This was a customized Enarlin spell, tailor made just for Mrs. Villeneuve. It was echoed all over Beinost, but I couldn’t tell how many voices there were.”

“Fifty three,” Esme said without hesitating. His superb musical ear might have been the key to saving the day. “Separated into eighteen parts and using dissonant chords more than anything else.”

“Impressive.” Neesal said with a mixed expression of awe and awkwardness on her face as she looked back down at the brown parchment. “It says here that to nullify a personalized Enarlin song one must create and sing a Turlin song using at least as many voices as the curse, the lyrics of which must be an ode to the subject’s greatest personal connection. It cannot be rehearsed within the victim’s hearing range. Doing so will destroy the novelty of the song and severely weaken the purifying effect. If the spell does not use the subject’s greatest personal connection, which can often be subconscious, it will fail and cannot be attempted again.”

“And…” Alix said. “What if the Enarlin spell takes full effect?”

Neesal paused, not because she was searching for an answer within the old pages of the book, but because she didn’t want to answer. She did so anyways, but slowly. “Your positive personality traits will erode. The things you love, your sources of happiness and motivation will all begin to be of less and less importance to you. Your insecurities, doubts, and fears will become exaggerated. Your regrets will brew resentment and your resentment will become hate. These things will possess you, and nothing but the release of death will free you from their bonds.”

[The International]

There was more to this than Alix’s demise. Whether Kilick knew it or not, he was taking away the key to the Villeneuves’ livelihood and relative immortality. Each member of the family wielded a small sketchbook with drawings of members of different Althanian peoples. When one of them looked upon one of these drawings before they lay to rest, they woke up as the person in the picture. This was not illusionary magic. This was a complete and utter biological change down to the smallest cell. These were Alix’s drawings, and they only worked for her loved ones. If she stopped loving them it would mean the end of their lives as well as hers. Maelle pinched her lips as another bevy of tears came. She used her shawl to wipe her face. Alix ordered a red faced Ludivine to set her down at one of the tables, where Esme promptly put a hand around her shoulder and kissed her on the forehead. Vespasian… disappeared. Everyone peered into the isles in which the youngest of them had dived into.

Neesal couldn’t help but tilt her head in a mixed expression of pity and offence. Why would he leave during a time like this? “Does he need some time alone?” She asked as she looked to the rest of the family, who all strangely and suddenly had something of a smile on their faces. “Am I missing something here?”

“It’s hard to explain. Just watch and you’ll see.” Esme stepped forward and projected his voice into the colonnade of books. “Alright, Little Genius, give us your thoughts.”

Vespasian’s voice hit the walls and ran back around to them from his location, which was constantly changing as he ran from isle to isle. “Khal’jeren may have something we can use.”

“Khal’jaren the Elder Thayne?” Maelle stuck her head forward to confirm what she was hearing. “The Great Sage? The God of Wisdom and Knowledge? What does he have that we could use in a situation like this one?”

“Let me guess.” The Patriarch looked to the ladies of the family with a mocking face before he turned back to the abyss of books. “Is it the Harp of Khal’jeren that you’re looking for?”

“Yea.” Vespasian said, still unseen. Esme turned back to his wife and daughters with a look of triumph on his face. Understanding the gifted baby of the family was like a puzzle in which everyone enjoyed solving, but since Esme was his primary mentor while training he had a bit of an advantage. They made faces at him while taking solace in the fact that Vespasian didn’t take on his pretension. “The real challenge won’t be writing the song. Maelle you’ve psychoanalyzed our mother for years now and I bet you can determine her greatest connection without even asking her.”

“Although I would appreciate it if you did ask.” Alix leaned in towards Maelle as she mumbled. The cannabis began to kick in as she began to rock side to side. “Damn this is some good stuff.”

“No, I’m not asking you.” Maelle said firmly without looking at her mother. “It’ll run the risk of changing the answer. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true.”

“The tree nymph thing isn’t reversible, but that won’t be much of a problem either.” Vespasian ‘s voice now rang in everyone’s right ear, although he could have been anywhere. “As long as it doesn’t have to be a particular tree she has to bond with it’ll be a manageable situation. The two biggest problems will be Kilick, and finding fifty three voices to cure the spell, right?”

“Right.” Neesal peered out of one of the foggy windows, but to no avail. Her eyes suddenly went wide with alarm. “Wait. Do you think he’s watching us now?”

“Without a doubt.” Ludivine said while staying completely still and focusing on the forest of books like a greyhound. Her brother’s musings were particularly intriguing to her. To be able to think one’s way out of something was impressive. She continued. “If Kilick’s as good as he has proven to be so far he has eyes on the campus as we speak.”

“Anyways.” Vespasian chimed in with a jovial demeanor as he reappeared. He plopped an open book onto the table before them. He pointed to the picture that dominated the open page. It was that of a harp. Its frame was fashioned in the form of the arms of a praying mantis. “This is the Harp of The Great Sage, Khal’jeren.” He flipped the page to the other side. “Now according to this, legend tells that the harp has ten different powers, some of which include clarity of thought while being played, its own intelligence and voice which grant wisdom to its owner, and allowing extra-planar communication. Given the war that just went on in Raiaera, there are hundreds of thousands of Raiaeran souls in the Antifirmament just waiting for us to call for their use.”

“Aw do we really have to deal with the Thayne.” Alix said in agony as she lay back on the table. “They’re pushy and self righteous.”

“It’s practically in the basement of a library in the middle of the Black Desert.” Maelle said as she shook her head in objection. “That’s not to mention the Durklan ghosts and the deadly traps and puzzles.”

“Correction.” Ludivine interrupted fulfilling her role as the annoying little sister for Maelle. “It’s more like a crypt down there. Lots of dead bodies and what not, sculls adorning the walls all willie-nillie, discarded bones crunching at your feet as you walk though the dimly lit corridors…”

“Nevertheless.” Esme ended the torture just before Maelle retaliated. “Is there any other option? Can you think of absolutely nothing else?”

“Absolutely not. We need to be on the road to the Red Forest yesterday, while writing the song needed to cure the curse,” Vespasian looked at all of them with a firm certainty that he never possessed. Then again time was never of the essence as it was today. “As far as I’m concerned this is our only option especially since it’s on the way.”

“I can do you one better.” Neesal confidently stepped forward. “I can teleport you to the library. That way you can try your hand at getting the Harp, and if you don’t succeed you can return to look for another solution. In a worst case scenario I can teleport all five of you just outside the red forest with time to spare. All I need is some quiet concentration and we will be off.”

“Perfect.” Esme said, quickly taking charge of the situation. “The three of you will go. I’ll stay behind with your mother. Don’t take more than an hour, and if it seems undoable in a reasonable amount of time, come back to find another solution.”

Before they left Vespasian signaled Maelle, who then went to her father and whispered something in his ear. It was obviously the answer to the the question of Alix's greatest connection. It wouldn't be a difficult thing to guess. It would either be her husband or her children, but in this case they only had one shot. With that done she joined her siblings at Neesal's side. Neesal closed her eyes, and after a moment of concentration, they were off with a flash of light.

[The International]

Teleportation felt weird. Vespasian could feel the very fabric of his essence being taken apart. He wasn’t necessarily being torn apart. No. This was different. He was being deliberately and methodically dissected or disassembled piece by piece down to the tiniest life unit and being hurled through a turbulent void. Despite all of this, it didn’t hurt, and that was why he was able to describe it as being taken apart instead of torn apart. After the void he could feel the forces of nature putting him back together like the wooden play blocks of a toddler. Except this was much more complex, so it was more like an adult putting together a one-thousand piece puzzle. Luckily he was reassembled in no time… literally, and he stood with his sisters and Neesal before the Library of The Sage.

“How far West are we?” Maelle said as she looked over the horizon behind them. Here the sun was still somewhat visible as a giant tangerine that sought refuge behind the silhouettes of a few clouds.

“Not that much further West than Beinost.” Neesal started towards the Library, being careful not to step in spots that weren’t designated as walking areas by the gravel. “We may only have fifteen minutes or so of sunlight left, but it’s no matter. I can light our path.”

The others began to follow in her footsteps approaching the small pointed building that stood before a backdrop of twilight. Of course there was a plan, but stating it wasn’t necessary. Vespasian was the leader. Period. But if he stated such he would lose that title. It was an unspoken contract between him and his sisters, who both constantly lobbied for his favor due to their rivalry with one another. Perhaps that was why the trio worked so well together, well enough to best their parents, who had seven thousand years of experience on them, in a battle that occurred in Alerar about a month ago. If he spoke of it, their egos, grounded in their seniority, would not allow it to go unpunished. Therefore he would simply tell them what to do, and then humbly thank them when (or if) the job got done.

“We sure have an affinity to libraries today. Lillian Sesthal would be in Bliss if she were with us right now.” Vespasian said with a chuckle. His sisters agreed as they all stepped under a quaint archway and opened a heavy door made of stone. The dry air from within gusted out and carried with it voices of people long gone. Ludivine’s icy blue eyes widened in alert. “Keep an eye out. This desert is home to the ghosts of the Durklan tribe. The Raiaeran’s did to them what Mom and the Alerarans did to the Valinthe.”

The party stepped into a main hall in which the light, or lack thereof, was enhanced by two walls of vaulted archways to their left and right. The side opposite them had two dark archways and a delicate stone set of staircases that zigzagged up a massive wall of books. Vespasian directed them towards the archway to the right for no particular reason. Suddenly the sound of footsteps stopped them in the center of the dark marble floor.

“Ludivine, how many?” Vespasian whispered as he reached his right arm across to draw his International Rapier. He drew it with haste only to realize that he had a broken blade in his hand. “Shit!”

“Two…” Ludivine peered almost blindly into the darkness of the corridor as her ears twitched. “Two really fat women in high heels.” Everyone looked at her in disbelief as she took to the shadows between the arches on their left. “I’m not kidding. There’s a lot of weight between two pairs of feet that… Screw it! You’ll see!”

“And how the hell are you able to reference the furthest reaches of your memory only to forget that your sword is broken?” Maelle snapped at her little brother as she started towards her post behind the column to the right.

“Hey hey hey!” Vespasian hissed through his clenched teeth. “I am under a lot of stress right now, and you should thank your lucky stars that I’m not an offbeat genius who can’t tie his own damn shoe!” He then turned to Neesal with a smile in proper bipolar fashion. “Miss Danfras, you may want to hide behind that column with my sister.” And without awaiting an answer he turned in the direction of the corridor.

While he wasn’t in the dead center of the black marble floor, Vespasian would clearly be the center of attention to whoever emerged. Ludivine was nowhere to be seen, and Maelle had taken good cover with Neesal with her. This was their wolf pack maneuver modeled after the hunting methods of Salvarian Snow Wolves. Vespasian would be the decoy with Maelle’s ranged attacks covering him if need be. Once the target was clearly focused on either of them, Ludivine would come leaping out of the shadows to deal a fatal blow.

Ludivine’s guess at what was approaching wasn’t even close, but judging from what did emerge from behind the veil of darkness, everyone could understand why she made that assessment. An inverted triangle drained of color with luminescent compound eyes at its two top corners came first. It was followed by a pair of oversized forelimbs with jagged blades running down their edges. Its first thoracic segment was more than five feet long as it flexed its way out of the shadows, and the entire creature’s carriage was made possible by two pairs of strong legs. It was an ashen praying mantis that stretched a good foot over Vespasian, and that wasn’t taking into account its endless antennae that wobbled about as its head swayed to and fro. As one would expect from the mortal incarnation of the Elder Thayne, the creature did not growl or roar. Besides its footsteps it made no sound at all, and even that was gone after it stopped a good ten yards before Vespasian.

Neesal put a hand over her mouth. She had seen many a creature in her lifetime, beings quite powerful, but never had she seen the incarnation of one of the Thayne. There was a mix of excitement and fear within all of them. Rightfully so, for Khal’jeren carried a celebrity and power that demanded those reactions.

Vespasian dropped what was left of his rapier. It wouldn’t have done him any good even if what stood before him was of a less than godly nature, but as the fragmented weapon hit the floor so too did his knees and forehead. “Oh Second Elder!” He chanted in an almost musical cry that echoed around the hall. “Great Sage! Most Wise! I beseech you.”

After an intense silence a deep humming resonated though Vespasian’s very core. He slowly raised his head to discover the source. Khal’jeren’s wings were a flutter at an imperceptible rapidity. The spy didn’t have to guess at the god’s response to him. It was more or less ‘don’t shit me’ as the floating mantis made a bee line towards the mortal. As a Thayne, Vespasian had to guess he knew and saw all, and the Great Sage wasn’t about to believe that he of all people was about to bow down to him. However, Vespasian knew it would perplex him for just a moment, and since he wasn’t likely to be omniscient in this form he wouldn’t be able to see trap being sprung.

A shining discus with the sharpness of steel came spiraling from behind Maelle’s column. It was easy enough for the mantis to dodge as it veered off to its left, but now it had floated into Ludivine’s range. She had quickly but quietly shimmied up her column and now she launched herself off of it to land on the elongated back of the giant insect. She drew the petite wakizashi blade from the small of her back and struck horizontally at the same time, only make a long but shallow scratch on its strong exoskeleton.

Vespasian looked to Maelle as Ludivine rode Khal’jeren like a flying bull, taking various evasive maneuvers to shake her. He needed her to make sense of this especially now that Neesal held in her right palm a sphere of yellow fire behind her. They didn’t need the Elf throwing fire in a place full of parchment. Before something bad could happen to Ludivine upon the back of the god Maelle spoke and caught his attention. “You know we’d get your Harp!”

The mantis stopped in the dead center of the room and slowly lowered itself to the floor. It listened as Maelle continued to provoke it. “That’s really the only reason you’d show yourself like this isn’t it.” She didn’t speak in an aggressive tone, but she held enough confidence in her theory to borderline on arrogance. Ludivine jumped off of its back and ran to Maelle’s side as it turned and looked at her. She continued with her hands proudly on her hips. “Otherwise you’d let your puzzles confuse us, or your traps kill us… or you catacombs gross us out.”

The mantis paced a few yards before the party as they grouped together to face it. It then froze as if to dare Maelle to keep pushing it. “How many others have you killed in the past in order to keep your wisdom and knowledge out of their hands? This library has been here for a very long time…” The creature slowly leaned towards them. “Admit it! We would outsmart the smartest being in the world. You’d be the laughing stock of the Elder Thayne because you wouldn’t have chosen us, you would have conceded to us!”

The two forelimbs of the mantis shot forward and collided with a clap of thunder no more than a few inches from the face of Vespasian, who was at the front of the huddled defensive mass. He leaned back with wide eyes as he gazed upon the spikes within the inner ridge of the limbs, which he now saw were able to rotate at a rapid pace. “Maelle, get to the point!”

“Let us use your Harp for this mission.” Maelle said. For someone who shied away from blood and battle she was uncharacteristically calm before the threat of ‘death by god’. “We will return it when we are done, or you can retrieve it from us yourself as soon as we complete the task before us. In return the Villeneuve family will dedicate a century to serving the Thayne.”

“What?” Ludivine and Vespasian both shouted. The fact that the mantis was pulling back its aggressive stance meant nothing to them now. As spies they had to take a detached point of view on several things, one of which was religion. This would hinder everything they did for a living. They made their objections in haste as the mantis quickly scooted backwards and into the dark hallway from where it came.

“Damnit, Maelle! What did you do?” Ludivine whipped around to shoot her sister an infuriated look. “What good is saving our mother if we more or less sacrifice ourselves to the fucking Thayne?”

“We could have taken on a big ass bug, Maelle!” Vespasian was the only one to truly raise his voice. Some part of him wanted the god to hear that. “When I signaled you I thought you were going to use your aura. Not talk!”

“Is that what you really thought?” Neesal said as the only calm individual in the room. “Did you see that strike he made? That was literally faster than the blink of an eye. If Khal’jeren wanted us dead, it would have been done.”

“Then what was his intention?” Vespasian threw up his hands in frustration.

“I merely wished to shoe you away.” A deep voice vibrating at the same resonance as the hum of the mantis’ wings came from the other corridor. Just then an object slid out of that darkness as if the floor were ice. That object was the fabled Harp in its entire golden splendor. It stopped just before Vespasian, who was still on his knees. ”The pact is now binding, but perhaps you may want to ask the harp what she can do.”

After a moment of shock, Vespasian leaned over and picked the harp up. It wasn’t the full sized instrument popularized by the contemporary orchestras of the time. Instead it was only a few feet tall with only fifteen to twenty strings. Its brilliance suggested it was just as good as the day it was made. Vespasian looked to the ladies and they urged him on. “Well... What can you do?”

The mature voice of a woman came from the strings as they vibrated. “With the Hymn of Khal’jeren I am able to alert my owner of any danger within fifty feet. I am also able to share the knowledge of my previous owner’s exploits.”

A silence hung over the room until Vespasian spoke again. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” The Harp said dryly. “That is all, but knowledge is power.”

“No.” Vespasian rubbed his forehead stressfully. “That can’t be it! You communicate with the spirits of the Antifrimament. You have to.”

“I do not have that ability, sir.” The Harp paid no heed to Vespasian’s growing frustration. “That is not fitting with my patron deity’s theme, and references to myth are exactly that, myth – partial truth and partial exaggeration. Such ability is an exaggeration.”

“No.” Vespasian stood with shoulders hunched over. A sinister shadow above his brow caged the rage in his amber eyes, but it wouldn’t be caged in for long. “We had a deal.”

“And you still do.” The Harp responded. “Your sister exchanged one hundred years of service to the Thayne for me. Nothing else. It is a verbal contract that the Villeneuve family is now bound to.”

“No.” Vespasian raised the harp into the air preparing to smash it to the ground. The others didn’t act to stop him. They believed he was right, even if it meant provoking a god. “The deal is off.”

“Before you do that, Vespasian.” The Harp said, still lacking any sense of urgency in its voice. “Perhaps a piece of wisdom may assist in your current endeavor, which the Elder Thayne has been watching very closely.” Vespasian lowered the Harp and listened. “In every generation Khal’jeren chooses a being of supreme intelligence, creativity, and objectivity to act as his gift among the people of Al’Thayne. That being is called the All Connector, or the Panexicon.”

“And what does that have to do with any of this?” It was a stupid question for someone as smart as Vespasian to ask, but even for him emotion was able to supersede intelligence. His older sisters hung their heads. For the first time in a long time he would be the last one to figure things out.

The Harp decided to dispel any doubt. For the first time its voice held emotion – an enthusiasm that came with rejoice and victory. “There is an infinite, thrumming, unseen web that joins everything. Everything is connected to everything else, and this concept is nearly impossible for most mortals to grasp because they are mere mollusks shut up tight in their shells at the bottom of a dark cold ocean of ignorance, attempting to make sense of stars they cannot even see. Your musings are not paranoia nor are they insane rumblings. They are two elements in this universe that were not previously known to be connected. Steel your mind, Vespasian Villeneuve, for you are this generation’s Panexicon.”

“Now how…” By now Vespasian had put the Harp down and was staring into the distance still on his knees. He was reaching the end of his rope. His voice scratched as it jumped out from his gut. “How in the hell is that going to help us save our mother?”

“Use your powers of deduction, Panexicon. You cannot make a connection that is not there to begin with. If there is a solution to your current ordeal, you know in your mind.” The Harp paused. “Correction: you know in your heart that I am not that solution. Allow me to also save you time in your future endeavors by saying that you do not need me. Others may, but as the Panexicon you…”

“Quit calling me that!” Vespasian screamed out in guttural agony as he kicked the Harp causing it to slide into the shadows. “Just tell me what I need to do! Please!” He collapsed on the cold floor and retreated into the fetal position as he tasted his own bitter tears of anger and desperation. All they needed was fifty three voices. It was the only missing piece to the puzzle, and Vespasian was able to solve every puzzle he was faced with. The exception to the rule had to be this puzzle? “I’m beg of you.

Please…

Please…”

Vespasian was ashamed of himself as he wept on the floor of the Library of The Sage. He was ashamed because he wasn’t crying for his mother, who would be trapped for all eternity in a prison of hate. He was crying for himself because he didn’t want to lose her. Perhaps that was what motivated them all tonight. Selfishness.

Then a hand touched his shoulder. It was followed by the scent of belladonna, which belonged to Ludivine. She wasn’t the cuddly type, but there she was running another hand through his hair and giving him a comforting kiss on his sweaty forehead. Maelle joined them as she sat cross legged before him and took his clenched hand. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Within the last hour they had denied their mother’s mortality, shouted at the world in anger, bargained for her life, and cried when it was no use. It was time to come to terms with the situation. Either Alix Villeneuve would spend an eternity in a trance of hatred, or she would die.

Neesal Danfras put a hand on Maelle’s shoulder and they were off again... defeated.

[The International]

Alix ran her finger across the weathered parchment on which the depiction of the Fealotë, or the Soul Blossom of the Red Forest had been drawn eons ago. The deadliest flower in all the plains of existence looked no different from an aquilegia. It was a complex and ethereal flower, with five petals that reached out to form a naturally occurring pentagram. In the center of the pentagram, where the pollen would have been, was instead filled with tiny fuzzy thorns. When an admirer of this plant came dangerously close, these thorns would shoot out and inject their poison into the victim immediately consuming their soul. None of this was written on the page. Alix just knew. “For a soul sucking flower this thing sure is pretty.”

“You have an entire library full of books.” Esme said as he looked up from the old half blank sheet music. It had only been half an hour and he had already written five pages. “And you chose to read the one about the flora of Lindequalmë?”

“I can’t help it.” She closed the book and lay across the table again. “My curiosity drove me to it. Although I can’t give myself all the credit. How goes the writing?”

“Good.” Esme said quickly and quietly as he frantically colored in the notes with a pen and inkwell he found at the receptionist’s desk. “I’m almost done.”

“Don’t you think you’re writing a little fast.” Alix’s voice was strained as she took another puff from the pipe. “How much of this stuff do I need to smoke?”

“Master of Songs degree, and I’ve had this song stuck in my head for quite some time so…” Esme’s voice trailed off as he sunk into the song once again. After a beat of silence he remembered the second question. “And I have no idea. You can ask the Elf lady when she comes back.”

“Exactly how long have you had that song stuck in your head?” Alix was trying to make a feeble attempt at guessing what the divine ode of the song would be. Long was a subjective term especially when it came to the two of them, but depending on that she’d be able to surmise what the song would be about. Esme didn’t dignify her with an answer, so she decided to throw a bit of a heavier rock into the pond. “I would like for Ludivine to kill me.”

“We’re not talking about this.” Esme seemed to write faster. “Not right now.”

“If it were up to you we’d never talk about it. If this were someone outside of the family it would have been discussed by now.” Her tone was still light hearted, but she was deadly serious. “Ludivine and I… we rarely see eye to eye. One of the only things we find common ground on is our Akashiman training and the codes we were taught. Death by the blade is the most honorable way to go.”

“Alix.” Esme’s voice slowly raised and his face turned red. He was beginning to feel a headache from holding back the tears. He needed to be strong, but as usual, his wife was complicating things. It was good to know some things wouldn’t change even to the bitter end. “We do not need to talk about thi…”

“Fine! Fucking Fine!” Alix saw his yell and raised him a good deal more as she shot up like a cobra ready to strike. “We don’t need to talk about this, but I do.” She calmed down and unclenched her fists. “Besides… you’re killing my buzz.” She sat back down on her makeshift oaken bed that was the library table and continued as Esme resumed writing, seemingly oblivious. “If any one of those kids can question whether I care for them as much as the other two, it’s Ludivine. When she has to kill me…”

“If she has to kill you.” Esme corrected risking his wife’s wrath again.

“Whatever. If she has to kill me,” Alix rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Giving her that honor would be my last and grandest gesture of love. Now on a much more somber note… I can’t believe in all these millennia I haven’t had this stuff. It’s mesmerizing!”

They both laughed, and not in a disingenuous mockery of a laughter. It was real. Esme slouched back as he looked into Alix’s hazel eyes for what could have been the last time. His wife’s smile slowly changed into a solemn frown as she looked away. “Why am I you right now, spouting off jokes while you brood? That’s my role.”

“I would blame you like I always do,” Esme searched in the air for an explanation. He darted his eyes to her and smiled. “But I’m not sure who took who’s role first.”

“I know we don’t have to keep up appearances for each other. We don’t have to act like we’re stronger than we actually are. It took a lesson from our youngest to make me realize that. But we do have to be strong for our kids, and I know that you’re stronger than this.”

Esme nodded his head. Alix was right. Usually it was Esme at ease and doling out the wisdom in humorous anecdotes, but today it was Alix doing that even though she was dying. He went back to finishing the song. He only had a few measures left.

Moments later a flash of light permeated the library. Neesal emerged from behind a book case in the distance. She made eye contact with the Villeneuve parents then hung her head and retreated to adjusting her long orange skirt. Maelle stepped out with her head in the sky, but not in a good way. Vespasian found the nearest seat. Ludivine was the bravest of the three. She stepped forth with her frosty blue eyes on her mother, strong, pure, but poignant.

“It didn’t go well.” Esme said as he stood up. “Did it?”

“No.” Neesal decided to speak for them. No one wanted to tell their father they had failed at something especially when it came to a life and death matter such as this one. She was determined to remain optimistic, “But we’re here in the library, and we can find something else, right?”

Everyone shot her a look demanding that she bring an end to her militant optimism and allow them, if only for a moment, to wallow in their despair.

“I appreciate the spirit, Miss Danfras.” Vespasian said as he lightly banged his head on the table. “But if I don’t see it, it’s not there for anyone to find.” He looked at his mother. “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

“The world around us is in a constant state of flux.” Esme exuded a comforting smile. They had been waiting all night for that, but perhaps it was too late to instill them with confidence. “Something that isn’t there to find now may appear to us later. I do have good news. I finished the song.” He handed it to Maelle, who was the only other member of the family able to read music.

“Ah!” Epiphany struck the Elvin woman. She placed a hand on Vespasian’s shoulder. “You need a blade, no? We have a weapons cache in our possession. Some are acquisitions and some are meant for training. You used a basket hilt, correct?” Vespasian nodded in confirmation. “Right this way.”

[The International]

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Vespasian said as everyone followed Neesal across the campus. “If we can’t save her we can at least kill him.”

“What’s the fun in killing him?” Ludivine growled. “We’re gonna torture his ass.”

“Shouldn’t you people be on your way to Lindequalmë by now?” There the Raiaeran spy stood twelve paces away from them with a long spear in his hand, just inside of the gate of the College with ten cloaked Rangers wielding Akashiman crossbows. And to think, a brigade by the same name was fighting for justice and peace on the island of Corone. “I thought you would have figured this out by now. Alix goes to the Red Forest and bonds with a tree or she dies.”

“Thank you.” Ludivine said politely with a smile.

“For what?” Kilick mirrored that smile and added a hint of rotten sarcasm.

“Showing us your face.” Ludivine’s eyes widened. She looked at the spy like lunch.

“That will not be of any use. And you.”Kilick’s brown hair whipped as he snapped his focus on to his fellow Elf. “Where do you find the audacity to betray this country and side with them? You put me in a difficult position. Tell me if you know this address. 2194 Carriage Circle.”

“My home?” Neesal’s eyes curved up quizzically, but it didn’t take long for that expression to be replaced by shock. “My daughter!”

“Yes, and she has a new caretaker while Mommy is away.” The Raiaeran spy’s voice seemed to mimic that of a grown up talking to a child as he gave Neesal her instructions. “Make sure they get to the Red Forest and no harm shall be done.”

“How?” The single word barely escaped her mouth, but another was to follow. “Why?”

“Because he has a strong sense of justice, and he’s a patriot. That’s why Raiaera chose him.” Maelle said with an uncanny confidence. Now Kilick was surprised. Maelle held up her hand. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re confused or like you have no idea what I’m talking about. I hate it when my people do that. Don’t be ashamed of an extreme determination to defend the people that you love.”

The rest of the family refrained from moving. Only the breeze managed to ruffle their clothes. Maelle began to step in front of them. They had seen her do this before. Maelle was going to make the Raiaeran her mark by becoming one herself and convincing herself that his cause was just right in front of him. She continued. “Unfortunately there is no one person to love. It’s just one entity, Raiaera, and you couldn’t stand seeing her being destroyed by the necromancer. But there was nothing you could do until you found our dossier in a pile of rubble somewhere or floating around an underground market.”

The spear in Kilicks hand began to lower as he listened to Maelle and watched the world stand still around her. Maelle mirrored his body language, slumping her shoulders and rocking with the wind in the same subtle way he did. “People like us, people like you, who do the dirty work for a nation so that people like Neesal and her daughter here can live in relative peace, we can be blamed for all sorts of things. That’s what you did Kilick. You found someone to blame for the ravaging of your once beautiful country, and you sought justice.” Maelle raised her hands in alarm with what she said next. “Not revenge. If it were revenge you would have killed us. You want… justice. I just want to ask you one thing. If we hadn’t saved Alerar from what was at best a massive distraction,” She rolled her eyes at that statement thus trivializing what they had done for Alerar. The truth was that the Valinthe could have destroyed that nation, but Kilick didn’t need to know that.

“Would there be someone else to blame? Would some deed in Corone, which kept them from helping you have brought us the blame just as easily? Is the fact that we weren’t here eating you up inside?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She knew it was. “It’s eating us up inside too. The fact is we would have made a difference. Don’t you agree?”

Now she awaited an answer. Kilick was breathing heavily for his conflicting feeling stirred his heart to the point that it felt like a direling pounding on his chest from within. The question was clear, however, so he nodded his head in agreement.

“It’s our fault.” Maelle said as she mirrored his nod. Vespasian and Ludivine also nodded their heads, but only slightly. Had Kilick looked at either of them directly he wouldn’t have noticed, but since he was looking at Maelle, his subconscious would register that the people around her agreed with him. “If we were here, those Dark Elves wouldn’t be. Am I right?” This time she didn’t even wait for him to nod. She did it herself.

The Raiaeran rogue did the same. This was good. He was getting into the habit of complying with her. They didn’t need him to completely trust them. They just needed him to believe he had won. It was not unlike Vespasian bowing down to the mortal incarnation of Khal’jeren. Instead this was the entire family bowing down, and it wasn’t an omnipotent god before them. As soon as he believed he had won, his hubris would compel him to drop his guard or turn his back, and that’s when they would stab it. This was how they operated. They were spies.

“Would you like for us to help free Raiaera of her bonds?” She only needed one more sign of compliance before she asked for what she really wanted, and even if Kilick didn’t comply, she was confident that someone was cooking up a contingency plan.

Kilick complied, quietly speaking with a frog in his throat this time. She had spoken his sentiments about his homeland almost verbatim. It was astonishing how much she understood. “I would.”

“Then will you free our mother of her bonds?” Maelle’s golden-green eyes met his pure amber eyes without fail as she slightly raised her chin. He began to do the same.

…

“I read the dossier, Maelle.” Kilick said with a sigh as he dropped his head. It was obvious that he wanted to believe in what the eldest Villeneuve daughter was offering. His information, however, would not allow him to do so. “The Coronians called you ‘The Con-woman for the Man’ and now I see why. The answer is no.”

Maelle looked away and feigned disappointment quite convincingly. She was the best liar of them all, not because she knew how to speak a lie but because she knew how to be a lie. “Are you certain of this choice? I’m the nice one.”

“I’m certain.” For a brief moment a glimmer of regret emerged on his face. For someone to understand him so well was rare, but that was probably how all of Maelle’s marks felt. “Do not try to convince me any further. Go to the Red Forest.”

Maelle looked at the others and signaled them. They turned around and began to take their leave. Neesal stood bewildered at what had just happened. Not only did they attempt to bargain with the man who had threatened her infant son’s life, they were now capitulating to the circumstances of the situation and the villain who had brought it upon them. After a bit of insistence from Maelle she followed along, but she couldn’t imagine why.

“I believe you’re all forgetting something.” Kilick shouted to stop them. He waved a hand to the front gate behind him. “This is the only way out.”

“We know.” Vespasian said with a wily grin on his face. He threw his left fist into the air and closed his eyes as a pearl white light emerged from his fist and permeated the night air. The light looded the eyes of the Raiaeran rogue and his minions, and with the Villeneuve’s backs turned to the light they were unaffected. Alix directed Neesal for cover, and watched calmly from behind the column of a building.

[The International]

Panic had infected the minions for they had read the dossier as well. As soon as the light subsided, Vespasian tuned and charged with Ludivine at his side and Maelle close behind.

“Vespasian.” Maelle said as she brought her forearms before her and slammed them together. A translucent shield resembling the shape of the front of a ship emerged in front of her two siblings no more than a foot or two ahead of her. Its only indications of existence were its lavender tint and the arrows bouncing off of its sloped surface. “You have no sword!”

“I don’t need a damn sword to kick ass!” Vespasian mumbled just loud enough for Maelle to hear him.

The Patriarch decided not to fall in with his children. The noise they were making provided plenty of distraction for the enemy’s ears, and they were in such a panic that they didn’t stop to count how many pairs of feet were charging their way. Esme capitalized on this and aimed for the bastard who was taking his wife from him. With a dark toned chant he extended his left palm out towards Kilick and it became a flame thrower. The arcane inferno leaped out at Kilick only to be thwarted by Raiaeran magic from the most unlikely of sources, the rogue’s peculiar spearhead, which was shaped like an aerofoil. The wooden poll that it sat atop did not hold it in place, but allowed it to spin as it moved through the air creating a characteristic roaring vibrato sound that tickled the ears. The music it created manifested an invisible barrier that forced the flames to climb before they extinguished. Kilick’s spear functioned as a bullroarer, and as long as he was spinning it as he now was in a figure eight motion, it would manifest magic.

The rogue agent was still partially blind. Nevertheless he responded in kind, allowing the spinning spearhead to channel some of the fire and send it back as a vertical wave of curling ginger flames and pitch black smoke. The Patriarch stepped to the side allowing the hot wall to pass, and resumed his determined strut towards Kilick. Esme continued to pommel him with flames as his barrier slowly melted before him.

Less than a stone’s throw away the trio of the Villeneuve children had closed in on their target, the closest crossbowman. Maelle quickly expanded her forearms releasing the shield violently upon the closest ranger. His cryptic hood fell back almost as quickly has he did. He was Human. They could care less. He reached for his sidearm, but it was too late. Ludivine’s wakizashi pierced his throat like fresh made bread, and it emerged with crimson butter tainting its mirror finish.

Vespasian engaged the next Ranger who was in the middle of reloading, getting in such close quarters that even a grappler would feel uncomfortable. His elbow slammed down upon the man’s left knee, and as the man crumbled forward his chin was met with that same elbow, which now rose up quickly. The youngest Villeneuve’s next strike was a cheap shot – his right booted heel digging into the Ranger’s toes. Finally Vespasian ended him with an index finger to the major blood vessel on his right shoulder. The young spy’s telekinetic blade emerged covered with blood just like his sister’s, but that was the only indication of its existence. He looked at Maelle who was busy launching her concentrated aura at the other crossbowmen. “Told you I didn’t need a sword.”

Alix watched with Neesal from afar as her children made short work of the crossbowmen and her husband wore down the Raiaeran’s defenses. She shook her head in shame. “It‘s a shame I’m not out there. I’m too worn down and fucked up to be any good.”

The last crossbowman dropped and Kilick was encased in a blazing dome. Maelle contributed to her father’s magical onslaught as Vespasian and Ludivine stepped in to watch the Raiaeran patriot’s demise like a spectator sport. There was a particularly lurid look of satisfaction on Ludivine’s face as Kilick desperately spun the bullroarer in different formations. That look soon disappeared as the dome exploded outwards and they all fell back. In a panic, Ludivine whipped her flaming sleeve in the air. It went out quickly, but the sting of a thousand bees lingered about her forearm. The others were unscathed as they rose.

The smoke cleared to reveal a chanting Kilick, forehead almost reflective with sweat, and a Ranger’s cloak saturated in the same liquid. He looked to the sky where his hand held a large slip of fresh parchment with archaic writing on it. He then slammed it to the ground, causing the earth to tremble. Mounds of earth beneath their feet rose, compelling everyone to retreat. The ground churned up large boulders while tiny pebbles flew through the air like little swarms of earthen wasps. They all converged to create a humanoid form loosely woven together by a magical construct. The golem stood more than fifteen feet tall at Kilick’s side, and although it had no discernable eyes there was no question as to who its focus was on.

Vespasian whipped his head towards Neesal. “I’ll be needing that sword now.”

Neesal led the way past a few buildings as the stone humanoid moved at a sluggish pace. Kilick began a sprint to close the distance between them. Neesal opened the large wooden door to a relatively inconspicuous building. The Villeneuve’s poured into a room full of wooden crates. The smell of timbre and sawdust forced a sneeze out of Ludivine. Neesal slammed the door shut and locked it with a key just before the rogue made it to the door. He wasn’t going to stand there without getting a word in.

Kilick’s muffled words came through. “Listen. I will not kill you. I will not harm Neesal’s daughter if you just go to the Red Forest. That is all you need to do.”

The group did what they could to ignore his feeble attempt at negotiations and watched Neesal dive head first into one of the crates near the back of the dark room. She rose with an ornate black leather scabbard in her hands and the smile of a birthday girl on her face. She carried it as if it were an artifact, delicately and with both hands, until she handed it over to Vespasian.

“This is a schiavona.” She said as she spoke over the increasingly loud thumping steps of the golem. “Basket hilted, wide double blade for cutting, pointed tip for stabbing, crafted of the finest Delyn in the land. With that you will be able to insulate and conduct magic on a massive scale.”

“What’s her name?” Vespasian said as he drew the blade. The fact that it was Delyn was only felt. It was noticeably heavier than most swords, even heavier than his now broken International Rapier. The mirror finish gave it a luxurious look.

“The Conduit.” Neesal’s smile disappeared quickly as a stone fist impacted the door. Splinters of wood shot in all directions and everyone took cover.

“Now where is your trap door?” Esme hastily scanned the small weapons closet. “This is a modern building used for weapons storage. You must have at least one.”

“The rug near the front door.” Neesal pointed to a plain brown rug, a horrible way to hide a trap door. Vespasian should have seen it, but the beauty of his new blade blinded him. Esme and Vespasian pulled the dusty sheet of cloth out of the way to reveal a miniature cellar like door. “But it can only fit one of us.”

“Maelle.” Vespasian said. “You’re going in.”

No one knew what Vespasian was planning, or if he was planning anything at all, but they didn’t have any time to question him. Esme’s first thought was to put the civilian in there, but she wasn’t the normal civilian, was she? The gentlemen opened the door and Maelle jumped into the shallow void, and just as it closed above her head, the door before them fissured. Vespasian insisted that they all grab hands.

“The Red Forest, Neesal!” Everyone looked at him in shock. Another strike from the golem rang in his ears. “It’s our only option.” He said quietly. Alix nodded in approval. But before Neesal closed her eyes to perform the teleportation Vespasian interrupted once more. “Wait for it.”

Three more massive knocks from the rock giant, and the door broke completely in two. The doorway was wide enough for the creature’s hand to fit in, so it reached in to grab the closest being, Vespasian. “Now!”

A thunderbolt clap hit. Then there was silence. Maelle decided to brave the circumstances and cracked open the door. The cache was empty. No one was there but her… and the sheet music.

[The International]

In the south central region of what once was the great High Elven nation of Raiaera there was a hillock just a few hundred yards north of the corrupt colonnade of trees known as the Red Forest. It was a picturesque landform that stood as a perfect cone of grass, an emerald pyramid of sorts. Its backdrop, no matter where one stood, was less than ideal for in one direction was the afromentioned cursed forest and in the other direction was the mutilated remains of Carnelost, the first city to fall to the Great Necromancer and his undead infantry. That vision of juxtaposition would soon be disrupted as the fabric of reality didn’t bend to the will of Neesal Danfras, but resisted, and resisted some more until it abruptly fissured. It mended just as quickly, but left the teleporter and her passengers behind just the way they had been before, with everyone touching, Vespasian in the clutches of the golem, and Killick sitting on its shoulder.

All stood at the top of the hill, from which the giant stone guerilla tossed the youngest Villeneuve. He twisted in the air deciding it would be best to land on his side. Nevertheless the impact was great and his insides refused to inhale as he rolled down the hill. He grasped at the crown jewel hanging off of his neck as he tumbled about. The others dispersed quickly surely in order to avoid the same fate. The golem spread its hands out and rotated its torso as the rogue Ranger held on tightly to its shoulder.

Alix ran down the hill after her son. She came to a sliding halt before him and dropped to her knees. Neesal’s diagnosis and prescription were correct. The cannabis suppressed the cannibalism that came from the Enarlin curse. She gazed upon the superficial cut that made the white sleeve of his tunic a tie die scarlet, and although she had an urge to kill him like a jaguar of Dheathain would do so with injured prey, she was able to suppress it to focus on the matter at hand. Her baby had been beaten up quite a bit today. First the last prince of Raiaera broke his beloved rapier, he was cut in the shoulder, the Library of The Sage had defeated him, and now a purple stain on his pale skin indicated that he had broken a rib. Still he sat up grunting in pain, and still grasping the Crown Jewel of Valsheress like a lucky rabbit foot.

“When you go in there.” He said with a trembling voice as he gazed upon the crimson trees that held up the amethyst twilight. He was not able to completely inhale. “Don’t bond with the first tree you see. Look for a rowan, a rowan sapling to be exact.”

“Vespasian…” Alix didn’t know how to react, for he was in rare form. He sounded like… her, particularly when he went on his first solo mission, or when he left the ship on his own for the first time, or when he was barely a toddler and he insisted through swipes and snatches that he could hold his own bottle. Vespasian sounded like her every time was forced to let go of him just a little bit, the main difference being he had to let go completely.

“Can you stand?” Neesal interrupted their moment as she passed them and stopped to offer a helping hand. Vespasian nodded and provided proof as he rose and ran albeit at a considerably slow pace. A speedy retreat wasn’t too great an issue as the golem was a slow creature. It stepped down the hill with caution as its boulder feet created craters in the once perfect surface of the cone.

Everyone regrouped at the bottom of the hill a good one hundred yards away from the threat. Esme spoke with haste. “Okay if we’re using the classical elements here, water would be the best thing to take that thing down. I can fire projectiles.” He began to whisper a song of magic.

“It may be worth the attempt, but I fear it will do you no good.” Neesal said keeping her eyes on the hill as Killick made his way down from the creature. “The Ranger provides defense with the bullroarer spear as we speak.”

“I say we take out, Kilick.” Ludivine said with a distinct growl. “He cast the spell.”

“A logical connection, assassin,” Neesal interjected, “but not always true. The golem is the primary threat. We should get it out of the way first then overwhelm Kilick.”

Just then the golem’s composition of rocks lost its form and its many pieces began to orbit around the creature’s essence, an orb made of violet radiating ectoplasm, until they created one solid ring. It then tuned vertical and rolled down the hillock.

“That’s our chance.” Vespasian said as the rock wheel picked up speed. He looked at Esme as he drew his new Schiavona. “Dad!” The excitement in his voice was as clear as it was quiet. “This is Delyn!”

Esme’s eyebrows rose as he put two and two together. “Now all we have to do is avoid getting ran over. Alix, walk to our left. Everyone else move to the right.” Hopefully the golem would make the right choice as to who to aim for.

And it did as it slowly veered towards the larger party. Ludivine and Neesal began to fidget about as they were at a loss as to exactly what was going on. Esme had resumed his chant and the air around them became noticeably thick with moisture. Vespasian had the Conduit in his right hand while he tended to his rib with his left. Both had lowered themselves into a sloppy horse stance. Neesal and Ludivine did the same.

The vibrations of the approaching stone juggernaut tickled their feet. It reminded Vespasian of an Aleraran steam strain as it approached. This creature was just as big as one of those contraptions, and it was picking up speed. The earth around it splashed up in waves of dark soil and dust as it grew closer. Then the moment of truth. As it bore down on them like a giant’s foot they leapt out of the way. In mid air, Vespasian dug his blade between a cluster of pebbles as Esme cast a jet stream of white water at the sword, not the creature itself.

The blade would not have done damage by itself. If it managed to break a rock or two, which was highly unlikely, the golem would have just gravitated the pieces back together or collected a replacement from nearby. The water, if on the outside of the rocks would have just splashed right off, and Neesal was correct about Kilick providing defense. The ectoplasm core was too high for anyone to reach at the moment, but the Delyn sword did its name justice as the summoned water burst out of the crevices of the wheel. Pieces of it fell off immediately, thumping to the ground and then rolling almost as if they were consciously attempting to reunite with their source of life with what little strength they had left. Soon the entire wheel had lost its shape and the creature was forced to return to its original form. This time, however, limbs and joints were loose, hanging on by an invisible thread. Before, the creature hadn’t exposed its core at all, but now its violet light escaped the cracks between the boulders that made up its chest.

It was now Ludivine’s time to shine. She charged with an uncanny speed towards the golem. Her padded shoes pounded into the soft soil and her sable hair whipped in the wind as she squeezed the pommel of her sword. The giant had its back turned to them, but it was smarter than they thought. As soon as Ludivine was in range of its epic wingspan, the golem swung around to deliver a devastating back fist that went straight through her… literally.

“Ludivine!” Esme’s voice carried through the air with a desperation that couldn’t be faked. He was almost certain that he was about to lose his wife. To lose his daughter in the same day…

But the passion for vengeance that fueled every part of Ludivine’s being wouldn’t allow her to accept defeat. Her mist began to work once again, but instead of the mist surrounding her as it had always done, she became the mist, which swirled around and even through the fist of the giant. A second of silence passed where everyone watching held their breath until the mist quickly accumulated and Ludivine was solid again – now past the fist and still within the velocity of her sprint. She pressed into the ground and launched herself into the air aiming her sword at the shining fissure in which the core lay. She made a direct strike, and almost immediately the golem became a collapsing pile of rock.

Luckily for Ludivine, the heaviest rocks fell in front of her, but many of them did fall on her. Enough to pin her to the ground. Perhaps it was the last stand of the golem, or the last command of the rogue Ranger, who was well past everyone. He had used the golem as a distraction, and now he was sprinting towards Alix, who had wandered towards her new home. She was examining the grounds just beyond the crimson tree line with an almost carefree curiosity.

“Kilick!” Ludivine screamed with all her might as she fought to free herself of her earthly bonds. Her mist could not be summoned again, and she was stuck.

Esme, Vespasian, and Neesal rushed to catch up, but they’d never make it in time. Alix was fatigued, drugged, cursed, and sad. There was no way imaginable that she would be able to defend herself against Kilick for long. Hopefully she’d be able to do so long enough for them to get there, but for what? To have her die at her daughter’s hand, at best? To be bound to a tree, and even worse, one’s most destructive feelings for all of eternity?

The Raiaeran spy slowed and came to a stop a few paces in front of the Villeneuve Matriarch. She casually rose from the ground and faced him with a woebegone face. “I’m just getting used to my new home.”

“No. No.” Kilick said. His brown eyebrows curled up to form a sad expression. “You don’t have to suffer. I can end this right now for you.”

“My daughter, Maelle.” Alix paused and smiled. “She struck a chord with you, didn’t she?” Kilick nodded as he readied his spear. Alix’s smile grew. “So I’ll be put out of my misery?”

“Yes.”

“But not by you.” Her smile quickly disappeared as a strange sound came from the ground below Kilick.

His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped as he dropped his blade. The fuzzy white thorn on his chin came from the flower on the ground just a few yards ahead of him. Its five sapphire petals were square with him, taunting him as he fell to his knees. He struggled to speak, but all that came from his mouth was a wind befitting a cave as hollow as his body now was. Kilick’s soul had been taken by the Fealotë - the Soul Blossom. Nothing was stopping him from dropping like a rag doll.

Alix picked the flower up and put it over her left ear. In some cultures placing a flower on one’s left ear meant that they were attached. She was attached to the amazing man who came to her rescue even when she couldn’t be rescued, to the children who had surpassed her every expectation, to this world. As a mother she knew her track record, warm but distant. The same could be said about her track record as a wife. How she wished that the end wouldn’t be that way, but it had to be.

“Don’t come any closer!” Alix said raising a halting hand. The others stopped thirty paces in front of her. “There are Soul Blossoms and Blood Vines all around me.” She glanced down at a brown spiky vine that moved like a snake in the green grass. “They’re… auditioning for me I guess. I’m sorry. I wanted to stay, but it was like my body was moving on its own and I was just watching it from the inside.” Ludivine approached from behind the stunned party. Alix saw it fit to admit. “I was going to let you end it, or… end me.”

Ludivine stumbled back at the statement. Everyone in the family knew that this was the contingency plan. Each person had someone else they were obliged to kill should they find themselves in circumstances much like this one. Correction: exactly like this one. But it had never been discussed. It was an unspoken rule alluded to when talking about other things. The middle child still held a quizzical and conflicted look upon her face, but couldn’t bring herself to ask why Alix needed to say it?

It was answered. “Because I love you. I love you, and I think.” Alix’s eyes swelled up with tears as she studered. “No. I um. I know why we have such a hard time getting along. We’re so alike. Maelle and Vespasian, they know but… And now I can’t even give you this… this last honor.”

Ludivine’s lips trembled as she rocked back and forth. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles became porcelain white. She didn’t consider herself the cry baby that Maelle was, but she had a feeling her pride would be intact just this once, so she dropped to her knees beside Vespasian and rested her head on his leg as she finally released half a day’s worth of tears. Neesal lowered down to comfort her. Vespasian hung his own head to hide his face.

“Why won’t you cry for me, Esme?” Alix looked at her husband, who suddenly dropped his gaze to the ground. She asked again. “Why won’t you cry for me?”

“No.”

“… It’s okay to…”

“No! I will not cry. Seven thousand years. Seven thousand years and we are just - getting - started!” Esme was shaking. His forehead was read because he tried with all his might to resist what his emotions told him to do. “I absolutely refuse to cry tears of despair. Our children can do so. It’s fine for them, but we will be back. We will get you out of here. Then and only then will I cry. Tears of joy.”

Alix remained silent as she looked upon her husband with a bittersweet smile of pity. Esme took two steps forward and reached into his pocket to expose a mangled rose. He placed it on the ground and stepped away. “That’s for you. I picked it off of one of the bushes in the College green house.”

The Matriarch stepped forward putting a hand in front of the Fealotë on her ear and she bent down to pick up the rose. “Thank you.”

She supposed that if her husband refused to cry for her, he would refuse to say goodbye. So she simply turned and walked down a corridor with walls made of blood red trees. Soon the scarlet leaves of corrupt bushes consumed her… and she was gone.

[The International]

Walking through the largest single region in the known world was a surreal experience. The pollen of the corrupt flora filled the air and tainted the vision as if one were looking through a piece of blood stained Fallienic glass. A tree in the distance observed its surroundings with seven pairs of light absorbent irises. It budged a bit at the presence of the forest’s newest resident, but a thick vine that wrapped a nearby oak like a thorny loin cloth launched a few projectiles – a warning shot. This woman is not food. The pack of dur’taigen wolves dropped their tree disguise and ran off. A vampire finch in the canopy above feasted on the open wound of a larger seagull that had strayed from the country’s southern coast. In between chirps it would pick on the larger birds wounds just enough to keep the blood flowing, but not enough to cause the host to fight back or fly away. It was perhaps the least harmful of all the Red Forest abominations. This surreal experience was Alix’s new home.

It didn’t take long for her to reach a clearing in which the ruins of a Durklan settlement lay. Alix was certain if she weren’t becoming a nymph that she wouldn’t have been able to see or hear the two dozen spirits that begrudgingly held onto this plane of existence. What was once a strange shadow formed by moonlight in the corner of her eye was a young man sauntering about the narrow grass covered road. What was once just the wind howling as it whipped around the corner of a broken stone edifice was now a chief singing to the moon through a caved in roof. Alix paid no mind to these people although she hoped to find her tree somewhere nearby so she could spend eternity with company. The Forest granted her wish for just on the other side of the clearing stood a giant red wood, on the base of which was a tiny rowan sapling no more than a foot tall.

Alix sat down and crossed her legs as she caressed the little tree’s dark green leaves. It was already adorned with the features that made it a rowan. A cluster of golden berries and a puffy white flower made up for half the plant’s size. The bonding was strangely uneventful. She simply made the decision and being around that tree suddenly felt like home to her. It would be her task for the rest of time to protect this tree and the animals that choose to occupy it as it grew, and now that she was officially a nymph of the tree she could not die unless the tree did.

“Good evening.” An aged voice came from the clearing as specks of light swarmed from all directions like fireflies. They met in one place to form the ghost of a Durklan. He was different from the others as he wore a patterned poncho of many colors, which indicated status. His ability to speak common was limited, but coherent. “You are Alix?”

“You’ve been expecting me?” Alix said with a distinct lack of surprise in her voice as she leaned back on the redwood. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t formally stand to greet you. My feet are tired. Besides I’m going to be here for a while.”

They both laughed. The Durklan man sat down in front of her on his knees. “Then I sit. We have been eeh.” His eyes darted about searching for the word. “Awaiting. Yes. We have been awaiting your arrival. The moment the spell took place we knew you were on way to us. You shall be in good company. Others like you come. At first… not so happy. Then… it is home.”

“I’m sure.” Alix dropped her head back in exhaustion. Merely knowing her fate was draining.

A long agonizing moment of silence passed, with the ambient noises of the forest filling in. Finally the Durklan man spoke again. “Tell me of you, Alix, from beginning to end. Like you say, we have time.”

“Well. Let’s see.” Alix crossed her arms and looked into the air. “I was born in the mountains of Kachuck, on the other side of this continent maybe seven thousand two hundred and forty… forty five years ago. You’ll have to forgive me. It’s been a long time since I’ve told someone my age.”

They both laughed a bit. Alix wanted to give him something to smile about before she got to the rest of it. “I was born Valinthe, an indigenous human tribe of what people now call Alerar. My family was prominent – the equivalent of a noble bloodline in other cultures, but that didn’t change how I or any other woman was treated. You see we had something unique. Every one of us had a supernatural ability based on our personality. The stronger our personality, the stronger our ability would be. Because of this, women suffered systematic abuse of every kind.”

“Every kind?” The Durklan man had to confirm this. Other members of his ghost town slowly gathered to hear Alix’s story. “You were beaten, suppressed?”

“And…” It had been a while since Alix openly said this word. She was even able to beat around the bush before her children when she finally told them the story. “And I was raped several times.” Gasps and whispers arose in the echoes of the nighttime breeze. “This way the men could move the sky and the earth, while the women would only be able to do small harmless things.”

“What of your family? Your mother?” The Durklan was taken back in disbelief.

“It was a part of the culture. It wasn’t considered wrong. In fact it was encouraged, while most women turned a blind eye for fear of suffering the abuse themselves. I went to her about this once. Before I could get into detail she struck me, and then proceeded to tell me that she had no sympathy for me because she endured it and no one lifted a finger. To her it seemed to be a rite of passage and if she had to suffer it I had to as well.” She paused. “My middle daughter looks just like her. She’s very promiscuous. I think those two things and the fact that we’re so much alike are what make… correction: made our relationship so turbulent. She was willing to use what had been so cruelly taken away from me.”

“No talk of daughter.” The Durklan insisted with a look of concern plastered upon his face. “I must know how you manage to escape these… How do you say? These um.”

“Conditions?”

“Yes! Conditions.”

“The Elves of Alerar. Don’t get me wrong.” She raised her hands. “They massacred your people here, and you probably didn’t deserve it.”

The Durklan jerked his head back. “Probably?”

“Hey. I don’t know you and if we’re going to be spending an eternity in this shithole you’re going to have to get use to my blunt style. Besides I only say your people probably didn’t deserve such a fate because my people certainly did.” She waited for a moment to continue. “The people that would one day be known as the Dark Elves migrated to the land and introduced themselves. They treated their women with much more respect than the Valinthe did, and it made me realize that there was a better world. It seemed, however, as though I was the only one in my tribe who believed this. The women around me were so complacent that even hints of defecting or taking a stand were outright rejected. I used my ability, which was considered harmless, to infiltrate the Elve’s society.”

Alix took out a small sketchbook from one of her pockets. She flipped to one of the well worn pages in the back and showed them a picture. “This is a relatively new type of the Elven ethnicity. It still has pointed ears. Its bone structure is well defined just like its Raiaeran cousin, but as you can see it’s a tad bit denser even at the jaw. As insignificant as it is, it allows for greater muscle mass as most Raiaerans, and the technology and magic mixed with the sub tropical climate of the Aleraran region created what you see here - Elves of a relatively dark skinned phenotype. When I drew the first Alerarans they didn’t look like this, but it’s what they evolved into. All I had to do was look at this drawing, go to sleep, and I’d wake up in this form. I used my relatively harmless ability to investigate, and while I was a part of their society I was free.” She didn’t realize she had been smiling since she had looked upon the drawing. For a moment she wondered if her ability still worked now that she was a nymph.

“But you still have not told your escape.” The Durklan was anxious to find out. He cared little for the lesson in ethnicity. His people had been the victims of ethnic cleansing. “You are here, and from what reaches me, your people extinct.”

“Not exactly extinct, but I’ll get to that later. You want me to tell you about how I escaped. Well I used my shape shifting ability to infiltrate Alerar’s settlements and I merely planted an idea amongst them and the Dwarves to rid themselves of the Valinthe. This wasn’t too difficult as my people were a belligerent bunch. Treaties were rarely upheld. The tension between them and even other Human tribes was always high.”

“What was big idea?”

“A massive ritual – the largest known ritual in history.” Alix spread her arms wide. “The Dwarves and the Elves would trap the Valinthe tribe in the Antifirmament – the realm from which you haunt this world – without even killing them. As the fiancé of the King of The Valinthe I had enough influence to lead them to the Fields of Khu’Fein. That’s where the trap lay. With one fell swoop they rid the world of the Valinthe. That is the secret explanation of why the Fields are so unstable with magic. Ten thousand men women and children are on the other side stuck in a sort of limbo. They can’t return to the material world, but they can’t move on to the other realms because they weren’t technically killed, so they dwell just on the other side of reality tipping its scales and stretching its fabric.”

“But in figurative.” The Durklan had to stop. He was at a loss.

“You mean in a figurative sense?” Alix said to assist.

“Yes. In a figurative sense.” He even mimicked Alix’s inflection of voice. He wanted to get it right if he was going to be spending such time in her company. “If you don’t mind boldness.”

“No, not at all.” She shook her head. “In fact I encourage it. Go on.”

His tone suddenly went dark. “You murdered.” It suddenly became light. “In a figurative sense. Is there a word for murder of many in this language you speak?”

Alix chose to make eye contact with the Durklan so that he might see the paradoxical mix of satisfaction and guilt as she said the word for the first time in her seven thousand year life. “… Genocide. I committed genocide. In a way that was my first act as a spy.”

“Your own people?” The ghosts held still in anticipation.

“My own people.” She said unflinching. She didn’t know ghosts could be surprised like that. Wait till they heard her other stories.

“But you…” The Durklan looked up at the full moon. Its light managed to show the effort he made to curb his repugnance. “You were free.”

“So-so.” Alix wiggled her hand from side to side. “There was an agent of Raiaera who had managed to save a few hundred Valinthe, just enough to maintain a few valid bloodlines without inbreeding. He set them up in a secret enclave in the Jagged Mountains of Corone as sort of a killswitch. They would preserve their culture and their hatred of the Elves for generations. If Alerar ever decided to attack Raiaera while they were defenseless, these Valinthe would be sent to Alerar to reverse the spell and bring them back.”

“So not free?” He leaned back and settled in. “Even after genocide… not free.”

“No.” A bittersweet smile crossed her face as her shoulders slumped. The disappointment seemed as fresh today as it was back then. “I spent the next forty years working against that Raiaeran agent. He was good though. Smarter than me. Stronger than me. More confident than me. I was never able to get to that enclave although some of them secretly left and made a life among other Human types, which could possibly account for so many Humans these days having powers. There was even a revived Valinthe tribe that sprung up in the middle of Alerar centuries ago although they were devoid of the cultural atrocities of their ancestors. One of them even became a general in the Dark Elf army. Thoracis I think was his name. I digress though. Where were we?”

“The agent.”

“Ah. The agent. One day we were stuck at a tactical stalemate in the prison of a mutual enemy. I won’t go into detail, but we weren’t able to touch each other much less kill each other. It forced a civil exchange that led to my confession of having been born a Valinthe. I told him about all the abuse I had suffered and he listened. He truly listened without turning away. Together we escaped that prison. He went to his superiors and not only did they refuse to do anything about the Valinthe, they relieved him of his position, so he defected and worked with me to end the Valinthe threat.”

The Durklan tilted his head as a wily grin appeared on his face. “This man?”

“My husband, better known today as Esme Villeneuve. He was my match and my opposite - the balance and love of my life.” There was no point in crying now. “Anyways we came to a point where we couldn’t do anymore about the enclave. The Raiaeran’s weren’t as clever as we were, but they were more resourceful. All we could do was keep an ear to the ground and wait.”

“For how long?”

“Up to little more than a month ago. Raiaera had more than its fair share of trouble with Xem’zund, and Alerar was preparing to attack as well. The killswitch was activated and my husband and I infiltrated the Valinthe as they made their way to Ettermire to gather the materials needed to bring their brothers back. Our children were hot on our trail, but eventually we, along with a particularly gifted librarian, stopped the Valinthe from returning for good.”

“I see.”

Alix nodded.

“You should be proud.”

“I am.”

“But how, with all your clever.”

“Cleverness.”

“How, with all your cleverness.” The Durklan paused to see if he was correct. Alix confirmed with a nod and he continued. “Did this here happen to you?”

“Well a spy very much like myself and my family stumbled across our information. He found out that we had saved Alerar from the Valinthe and felt it was our fault that the Dark Elves have invaded most of Raiaera. He set this trap into motion to punish not only me, but my entire family.”

“By ridding them of their mother?”

“Yes.”

“So I go over this for the sake of those listening, okay?” Alix approved. The Durklan leaned forward and rubbed his bearded chin for a moment. “You were born Valinthe, where you were beaten, suppressed, raped. In way you committed genocide on your own people, but threat of their return consumed your life for how long?”

“Seven thousand…”

“Seven thousand years.” The very number warranted excitement from the man’s voice. “You live in fear for such long time. You risk the life of yourself, your husband, and your children. You save a country and maybe other countries and you are here? The world has been very cruel to you, Alix.”

She wanted to disagree. She had three very gifted and very different children when she thought she wouldn’t have any. She had a husband who fit her like a puzzle piece despite how difficult she could often be. But this wasn’t about them. This was about her. Alix was the one who was born into abuse, Alix was the one who had to commit an atrocity, Alix was the one who lived in fear for so long, and Alix was the one who would have suffered the most if the Valinthe had been freed. She had worked for such a long time to save the world from the tribe, and this was the thanks she got?

The world had indeed been very cruel to Alix Villeneuve, and with that submission came the resentment, the bitterness, and the hate.

[The International]

Whitacre, Eric. “Go,Lovely Rose (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7nf1agjkBU)” _Eric Whitacre: Cloudburst and Other Choral Works_ Poem: Waller, Edmund

Go

Go


Go
Go, lovely rose
Tell her… Tell her that wastes her time and me,

What was this that echoed in the corridors of Alix’s mind? A song about a rose? She reached into her pocket and looked at the lovely red flower and its mangled petals. All night red had been the color of anger, hatred, war and vengeance. But as she looked upon the color now saturating the flower as it stood straight up and found new life in this serenade, it meant something different.

That now she knows,
When I resemble,

When I resemble her to thee

This was the song that Esme had written for her, but how was she hearing it in such an isolated area? Alix ran her hand across her collar bone and grasped the glowing jewel at the end of a quaint little chain. The Crown Jewels of the Late Queen Valsheress knew nothing of distance for they held extra planar properties. The plants around her began to change as if a master of time turned the clock back more than ten thousand years. The emerald hue of life ran through the midrib and vein of every leaf until it had completely retaken its original color.

How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her… Tell her that’s young,
And shuns to have her graces spied
graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung

Now even the Durklan ghosts were able to hear the song as they tuned into the extra planar frequency on which the song was being carried. They knew it was for her because her husband now took his solo.

"In deserts where no men abide," Esme’s strong tenor voice echoed in through Alix’s mind and vibrated in her heart.

"Thou must have uncommended died." An unknown female voice responded on her behalf.

Alix took another look at the resentment she had in her heart for all the things that had gone horribly wrong in her life. That Durklan spirit had cleverly hastened her through the best parts of her life in order to focus on the negative. He had even helped her to bring the resentment out herself, but now there was no denial for the good. She was hearing the good right now in the form of Esme’s song. She was looking at it in the rose before her and the forest around her. If her life had been any different – including the horror of being a Valinthe woman – it wouldn’t have been what it was today. All those millennia were well worth the twenty six years she had been a Matriarch to three amazing children, one of whom was now saving her from this prison. She now realized why Vespasian had told her to pick a rowan sapling. He chose the rowan because of its legendary magical properties and its protection against malevolent magic. And he chose a sapling because it would be easy for Alix to pick up. The song was working, but where were the voices coming from?

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired;
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,

Esme stood outside of the forest singing along with the choir and desperately grasping at his jewel. Vespasian stood behind and listened as he shared his jewel with Neesal. Ludivine was still on the ground leaning on his leg. During the fight with the golem, Vespasian had contacted Maelle using the jewel, and told her to gather the people of Beinost to sing the song. She did him one better tracking down the recently betrayed Prince Targon with the sheet music in hand, and using her charms to galvanize him into ordering his troops and a few dozen civilians to sing the song. That was after they ensured Neesal's daughter's safety. They now stood in a circle around the Treasure Tree hand in hand with Maelle so that their voices would be heard through her jewel.

And not blush so to be admired.
Then die!

Then die!


Then die!



Then… die!

Then

Die

Alix emerged from the emerald forest that preceded her holding a mound of soil in both hands and a rowan tree sitting atop it. She softly put it down at the sight of her husband singing to her. A serene smile crossed her face as she walked towards him. He was her greatest connection. Although the Villeneuve children held a special place in her heart she had a history with Esme that surpassed even the oldest surviving regimes. Alix & Esme were as Time & Space. This was not an immature romance based on the frivolous throws of passion, although passion was clearly present. It wasn’t a lifelong loveless test of complacency, although consistency was a necessary component. This was season upon season of cultivating the grounds of a relationship, planting the seeds of romance, and reaping the harvest of devotion.

That she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How

Howsmall a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
And Fair!

With the song complete the forest returned to its red color save for the path that Alix walked to return to her family. Alix & Esme embraced tightly as Esme fulfilled his promise to cry only tears of joy.

[The International]

… A few weeks later.

Tyexil Tilimora didn’t like being dragged through Ettermire with a tarp over his head, even if the party dragging him was the Royal Guard… Especially if it was the Royal Guard. The personal body guards to His Majesty King Edari’axa were not a nice bunch. The Queen had been assassinated on their watch and ever since then they had a chip on their shoulder. Tye, as people liked to call him, kept as quiet as he could be for he didn’t know why he was being abducted. There was a very long list of possibilities, one of them being his job as a bouncer at the Bottomless Pit, the capitol’s premiere underground bar. It was the mouth of the criminal underworld, and being its bouncer led to privileged information.

He didn’t know where he was. The sounds of the city were nothing but a brass song of ambient noise brought upon by the symphony of factories and the machines they harbored. That is until it was all replaced by the echo of their footsteps on a marble floor.

“Gi Uoi'nota nau!” Tye let his legs go limp as he realized where he was, Valshath d'Isto - The Dark Palace. It was the seat of power in the nation of the Dark Elves, and one of the most fortified buildings in all the world. He couldn’t possibly have been brought here for a good reason.

His attempt to make things difficult for the two members of the Royal Guard resulted in the contrary as they hoisted him up and carried him over their shoulders. He cursed and pleaded in his Aleraran tongue. He wanted an explanation, but got none. Moments later he was tossed on a carpeted floor, and the tarp was yanked from his head. Tye was in the middle of a small, ornate, and cozy study full of warm golden hues and deep amber. He had been in too much of a panic to notice the sound of the baby grand piano that was being played before him. The man playing it was Human. He didn’t know Humans were allowed in The Dark Palace.

“Afternoon, Tye.” The man quickly glanced at him with a pair of hazel eyes. A smile could be seen through his thin and well kept facial hair. “How’s business at the bar.”

“Do I know you?” Tye got up and brushed himself off as he scanned the Human man. He pointed a finger up and down his form. “And do you realize how much of a mockery you are making of my country’s impeccable fashion sense? Pinstriped double breasted brigade vests are too much.”

“What?” The man said with humorous surprise. “The tailor said this slenderizes my figure.”

“You don’t look like you need slenderizing, my man.” Tye turned away and peered out the window to confirm his suspicions. He indeed was in the Dark Palace. The breathtaking view of Ettermire, and its luminous atmosphere of brass, cogs, hot air balloons, smoke and coal, was proof. Now back to the matter at hand. “Who are you, and why do you have the Royal Guard at your command.”

“Ah flattering.” The gentlemen in the tacky fest said with a chuckle. “They aren’t at my command, but they were nice enough to volunteer to pick you up for me at the High Graf’s order.”

“Gi Uoi’nota nau!” Tye said for the second time today as he rubbed his forehead in frustration. He would have much rather have faced the King than his right hand man. It wasn’t that Shynius was a bad person. Tye, like most people believed the High Graf wanted what was best for Alerar even if it meant sacrifices on his part, but they knew he was willing to go to any length for what was best for Alerar.

“Don’t get your bloomers in a bunch, Tye.” The man said with a grin as he continued to play. “He’s not the one interested in meeting you. Not yet at least. We were. My name is Esme, and you worked with my children a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember working with anyone’s kids.” Tye glanced out of the window again attempting to guess how far up they were. “I don’t roll like that.”

“Once again.” Esme said as he rolled his eyes. “You’re letting those bloomers of yours bunch all up. My kids are older, and you helped them a few months ago. I believe people in my line of work would call you an asset. A young Human woman by the name of Ludivine is your handler.”

Tye’s eyebrows shot up as his jaw shot down. He rubbed his bald head in a mix of confusion and excitement. The young woman Esme spoke of was mysterious, quiet, dangerous… and sexy. “Your daughter is hot.” Oops! He wasn’t supposed to say that! He didn’t intend on saying that. It just slipped out. He hung his head. “Sorry.”

“No worries. Hey, keep helping us out the way you did a few months ago and you may have a shot with her.” Esme’s playing slowed down as something came to mind. “Although there is a strong possibility that she may make you her bitch. Just sayin’. Anyways I’d like for you to take that.”

Esme nodded his head towards a cylindrical object at the end of the piano. Tye picked it up and examined it. On the bottom of it was a seal meant for making an impression for wax on letters. Esme continued. “If you need anything, use that to send for me. If we need anything from you, my daughter will be in touch.”

“… May I…”

“No. You may not ask questions. You ask too many to begin with, which is why you damn near pissed yourself while the Royal Guard was bringing you up here.” Esme stopped playing and he looked at Tye. “I pulled a lot of strings to keep you from getting hurt while on these premises. The High Graf isn’t arresting you because I convinced him that there’s a use for you. Don’t make me a liar, Tye… You may leave now.”

“Right. Right.” Tye called the guards who escorted him out without any struggle this time.

Moments later Esme could hear four familiar voices echoing down the hallway. He resumed playing the tinkling piano ballad of blue retrospective poignancy. He didn’t bother to turn around as they entered. “How’s Lillian?”

“As well as spending hours with one’s nose in the books can be.” Maelle said as she shook her head and chuckled. She floated in by way of the bustled crème skirt of her gown. “She’s such a sweet girl. She could get out more.”

“Don’t do that, Maelle.” Vespasian entered fidgeting with a pair of goggles on his forehead, but finally settled for placing them in one of his two chocolate vest pockets. His eldest sister feigned innocence. He wasn’t falling for it. “No. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re about to go planting.”

“Planting?” Alix asked as she made her way to the vast window. Her bare green shoulders sparkled in what little sunlight made it past the smog of the city. She reached into one of the pockets of her bustled dress to take out a handful of rowan berries and popped one into her mouth. It was the soul of the Raiaeran Spy, Kilick, and it allowed her to leave her tree. Each berry lasted her twenty four hours. “What’s planting? How do you do that?”

“It’s the act of making something out of nothing.” Ludivine stepped in sporting a midnight blue corset and matching riding pants. “She makes someone believe they have a problem when they don’t have one. What’s worse is when she believes someone has a problem when they don’t, but manages to create one without even knowing.”

“I don’t do that!” Maelle said as she sat on the piano bench well out of her father’s way. She turned and looked at him with big pouty eyes. “Do I do that?”

Not only did he answer. Everyone did. “Yes.”

“So how did the meeting with Schynius go?” Maelle said changing the subject in haste. That was why they were back in Alerar in the first place.

Esme stopped playing and turned around to face his family. He took a few deep breaths before he spoke. “We are now exclusively agents of Alerar, and we will be working for her interests at home and abroad. The other nations will not know besides Raiaera, but that’s okay because there is no Raiaera anymore. In return we will each be given an extensive cover identity of lower Aleraran nobility. These will be considered NOCs, non official covers, and if we’re implicated in any of our missions the government will deny our very existence, and quite possibly eliminate us themselves.”

The room was filled with shrugging shoulders and tilting heads. A normal person would have been taken back by such an arrangement, but the Villeneuves weren’t normal people. Besides they had gone through quite a bit these last few months. They could accept this. Vespasian was the first to speak up. “So what’s our first order of business?”

“Earn their trust so that when it comes time for them to conquer Beinost, we will be there to soften the blow as much as we possibly can.” Alix said as she crossed her arms and leaned on the massive window. “I firmly believe most of the citizens of that city are beyond the ten thousand year race war, and they can help Alerar further its goals. Besides… We owe it to them and Neesal.”

Forget not your other debt, Villeneuve Clan. A deep voice resonated through the room as if it were everywhere. The covenant your daughter struck with me in my place of worship is binding.

“Oh you mean the deal with the harp that didn’t work?” Alix said as she looked into the air. “And you can show yourself. We’re not going to try anything.”

“You’ll wish we did after this conversation…” Ludivine mumbled to the side with a sly smile.

Khal’jeren did not enter through a doorway like a mortal, nor did he appear in the theatrical ways like his brothers and sisters did. He was not as vein as the other Thayne. He was just there in the center of the room, an average man, of average height, and of average bearing. He wore ivory robes beneath an onyx cloak. His beard was as well kept as Esme’s, but it was a platinum shine that indicated prestige as well as age. Esme would later admit seeing common ground with the god. Despite his age a vibrant zest for life still twinkled in his compound eyes. Khal’jeren looked over his shoulder at Maelle surely hoping to compound the guilt of her verbal covenant with failing to gain something real out of it.

The god spoke once again, The verbal contract was one hundred years of service for my harp. The young woman should have inquired as to what the Harp’s abilities were before making such an agreement. In fact I made an effort to shoo them away, and then she made an offer I could not refuse.

A long moment of silence passed as perplexed and troubled looks tainted everyone’s faces. Esme looked to Maelle. “Do you want to handle this?”

“Absolutely.” A smile flashed onto her face as she turned to the god and made a faint bow. She spoke quickly. “Khal’jeren, Great Sage, Most Wise, is it safe to deduce that this verbal contract must be taken word for word in as exact a way as possible?”

That is safe to deduce. Surely in all his omnipotent glory Khal’jeren saw this coming. Or did he?

“Then I do recall specifically saying that if you allow us to use the harp that we would devote one hundred years of service to the Thayne. I never said to you, Great Sage. According to all of your sacred texts there are many entities which hold the title of Thayne, including, but not limited to, your brothers and sisters. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

The Great Sage tilted his grey bearded chin. He could not have liked where this was going. No. You are correct.

“At one time you were all one entity. Therefore one can interpret my promise in many ways. We can serve all the Thayne, we can serve one, and we can serve a few at the same time. Hey there are five of us, and we can influence people to do your bidding whether they know it or not.” Maelle paused and let the god process the information for a second. However, he was the Great Sage. He didn’t need time to process information, but he probably did need time to cope with the extent of a mere Human’s cunning. “In our situation, we will serve the second of your children, Al’Thayne. Many like to call her Althanas. If you look at it that way, we have assisted in the stability of the civilizations of the known world, so our promise… is to do more of the same.”

The god had to laugh at this. My disappointment pales in comparison to my amusement. That was very clever of you. T’was your plan all along?

“If by all along you mean when I made the promise?” Maelle searched in the air for an answer. “Then yes.”

Despite what you may believe this promise will demand something more than what you have given of yourselves thus far. We will be in touch… All of us. And with that the Elder Thayne Khal’jeren disappeared as inconspicuously as he had appeared.

For a moment no one in the Villeneuve Clan spoke. This was all quite a bit to take in. They were burned in Raiaera as spies, a rogue spy nearly imprisoned their Matriarch as a tree nymph in the Red Forest, they made a contract with a god, and were saved by a brand new city built on the spirits of the dead. Esme stood up and put his hands on his hips as he paced from side to side in contemplation. The others were in a similar state of distress, with one exception.

“Okay!” Ludivine said as she jumped up. “I could use a whiskey right now. Anyone with me?”

The others hastily agreed and followed her out the door.

[The International]

Spoils... a doozie.

Note: Everyone but Vespasian is an NPC. I will never use them in battles without the permission of the opponent, and even then they are not to provide tactical support.

Alix Villeneuve
While Alix is free of the Enarlin curse she is still a tree nymph and she has adopted a few conditions and attributes. Unless stated otherwise the Rowan Tree that she is the representative spirit of is safe aboard The International in a pot next to the master quarter’s window.

Chlorophyll Skin: While in areas of sunlight the skin cells along her shoulders and collar bone can be flooded with chlorophyll to make food out of the light. This skin must be bare, which is why she now has an updated wardrobe of removable straps and sleeves. She also must be properly hydrated for this process to work, and it results in a sweet smelling perspiration on her shoulder line.

The Soul Blossom: The only one of these nymph abilities with any consistent tactical value. Alix now has a flower that looks no different than an aquilegia or columbine situated on her left ear. It looks like a decoration but it is actually a part of her body. It is a complex and ethereal flower, with five blue pedals that reach out to form a naturally occurring pentagram. In the center of the pentagram, where the pollen would be, is instead filled with tiny fuzzy thorns. When an enemy comes dangerously close, these thorns will shoot out and inject their poison into the victim immediately consuming their soul. The Soul Flower will store the soul within the berries of Alix’s Rowan Tree for a six day ripening period and for that period the soul can be recovered by cutting off the berries before they ripen. After they are ripened, however, Alix can eat these berries to leave her tree, which she is otherwise bound to. The range of the thorns on the Soul Blossom are no more than a few feet and their accuracy isn’t good unless the enemy is right up on Alix. They can penetrate most types of cloth, but they cannot penetrate leather or stronger.

Flora’s Favor: While Alix is away from her Rowan Tree plant life all around her will do anything to keep her comfortable and safe. Flowers might experience accelerated growth, elephant leaves might lean over to provide shade, aurum plants may provide heat in the cold night. Unfortunately most plants aren’t as dangerous as the Soul Blossom, or as mighty as a root walker.

Botany Sense: A branch of biology that involves the scientific study of plant life. Botany covers a wide range of scientific disciplines concerned with the study of plants, algae and fungi, including structure, growth, reproduction, metabolism, development, diseases, chemical properties, and evolutionary relationships among taxonomic groups. Alix is now an expert in this field now due to her connection to plants. She can also track down a particular type of plant using a sixth sense hence her ability to locate the Treasure Tree on Posts # 9&10 (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?20824-Alix-amp-Esme&p=182723&viewfull=1#post182723)

Ludivine Villeneuve
Illusion Mist: The mist that Ludivine has used for stealth purposes has now reached new heights. She is now able to become the mist. During this time she is invulnerable, but harmless. She can also move through spaces more than a centimeter wide.

Vespasian Villeneuve
The Conduit: This is a delyn schiavona. This is a unique sword that deserves a bit of explanation. It is basket hilted, but the basket’s complex design is made to completely cover the user’s hand thus making it almost as effective as a gauntlet for protection. It weighs in at a whopping 2.9 lbs with a blade length of 40”. The blade is of a diamond cross-section and has a single, narrow fuller and an unsharpened ricasso area to allow a finger to be passed over the guard and through the finger-ring. I'm willing to take reduced gold for this item.

Intuitive Aptitude: The first of Vespasian’s abilities as Khal’jeren’s Panexicon - the ability to understand the structure and operation of complex systems without special education or training. This extends to supernatural abilities that are possessed by others. As another demonstrates their ability Vespasian is able to figure out how it works and gain the ability for use himself. The catch a) he must witness the use of the ability at least once, b) he can only store three abilities at a time, c) once he figures out an ability he must decide whether to use it at the other person’s level only once, or store it at his level for unlimited frequency d) the limits of the other person’s abilities are his own as well.

At the moment the only ability he has adopted is Neesal Danfras’ teleportation ability, hence the elaborate description of the event on Post # 13 (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?20824-Alix-amp-Esme&p=183589&viewfull=1#post183589). However, he doesn’t even know he has it at the moment.


Reputation
Alerar: The Villeneuves are now exclusive to Alerar and have decided to work for her interests at home and abroad. They also have non-official covers as low level nobility within the Aleraran society, the exact titles of which I will leave to you to decide.

Raiaera: For those who still believe that Raiaera is still a nation, the Villeneuves are as bitter an enemy as Alerar. If it weren’t for them perhaps Alerar wouldn’t occupy half of their lands right now. They are burned spies, but this information has only reached mid level government officials of the destroyed Raiaeran power structure.

Beinost: The movers and shakers of the city that replaced Anebrilith consider themselves above the race war that consumes Alerar and Raiaera. Most of them hold no animosity towards the Villeneuve Family… but they owe Beinost a favor or two.

Everyone Else: The government of Alerar will drag its feet to announce to the other nations that the Villeneuve Family is working for them now, but with information being so loose in the tattered remains of Raiaera it’ll only be a matter of time before other nations find out. There will be a small window of opportunity during which the other nations will be ignorant of the family’s status.

[Breaker]

Music: Laces Out by USS
Mood: Content

Many thanks for waiting on this judgment... I hope to make it worth your while. I feel it's important to take into consideration the fact that your writing style has evolved since the completion of this thread, so I'll keep my commentary mostly concise. Anywhere that you'd like further elaboration/examples, just let me know, but I don't want to spend a whole paragraph explaining an adjustment you've already made :P

A lot of this might seem like jargon, but if you can catch me on AIM I'll give you some specific references and instructions that should help quite a bit.

Plot Construction ~ 21/30

Story ~ 6.5/10 - Overall you did a decent job of telling a complex story with multiple protagonists and antagonists, and of tying up the loose ends. You left me wanting to know what's next for the family, and curious about the details of the past lives of the other Villeneuves. The issue in this category was mainly the rising action, and your tendency to blend explanations and information with often passive action. This ties in to the next two categories, so keep on reading. In brief, many of the adjustments I'd advise stem from your habit of "telling" when you should be "showing", and I think you could develop a stronger narrative voice by focusing on fewer protagonists for a thread or two and making your voice less omniscient.

Strategy ~ 7.5/10 - The sheer number of skills and abilities you portrayed in this story was impressive, as was your evident understanding of Althanas' unique brand of magic. However the execution of the action was often anticlimactic. The "flow" of your action sequences was often interrupted by non-tangible text (i.e. explanations, reflections), and when it wasn't your overuse of passive voice kept things slow. Mind you did have some great moments of clarity, but too often I felt parts of this story that should have excited and thrilled me were actually some of the hardest to get through. There are a few technical things you can learn to permanently get rid of these problems, but in the meantime it might help to read your action sequences out loud, and try to suspend your disbelief as though you're reading it for the first time. Oftentimes you may find that beautifully written sentences do not always read so well, especially in the middle of a combat scene.

Setting ~ 7/10 - Again, your knowledge and use of Althanas lore amazed me (in fact, if you could provide a bibliography I'd love to read the sources you used), but certain disconnections kept me from making this a top-level score. This links back to what I said about narrative voice - I found a lot of your sensory perceptions of the environment to be almost incidental, certainly they were outshone by the more omniscient descriptions. This balance should be reversed, with the extra info considered bonus. Keeping the sensory perceptions of the protagonist(s) will root the reader in the moment, in the setting you design, so they can fully enjoy it.

Characterisation ~ 25/30

Continuity ~ 8/10 - I had only a few brief qualms with your characterisation, all of which I can touch on here. First of all, the dialogue (even that of the Elves) sounded distinctly Earthy. While there is no established standard for what Althanas characters "should" sound like, reading quips like bitch please, coffee table, and quite a few others rattled your flow considerably. In addition, Targon's dialogue sounded distinctly non-princley at times.

Interaction ~ 8.5/10 - You write great dialogue, and good body language, but I'd like to see a little more effort dedicated to making the interaction reflect the setting (Althanas).

Character ~ 8.5/10 - You have great understanding of your characters, and the ability to write great prose. What you fail to do on occasion is put the two together effectively. Rather than providing constant explanations as to why or how your characters do things, try to find ways to let the story show those details to the reader. And that's the other thing... internal explanations aren't necessarily bad, but they can be much stronger if embodied in the narrative voice of a specific character.

Writing Style ~ 22/30

Creativity ~ 9/10 - The sheer creativity, the variety of the elements you put together to build this story, commanded a high score. As to literary devices, you used them very effectively on occasion, but at times you allowed sentence structuring to take away from the most beautiful metaphors.

Mechanics ~ 6/10 - The number and variety of errors here made me wonder about the amount of time you spent editing. I didn't take notes most of the time but here's a few I jotted down... use of "isles" (meaning islands) instead of "aisles" (between bookshelves), "manor" instead of "manner", "base" instead of "bass".

Clarity ~ 7/10 - In order to improve further I think you may need to take a step back and consider your approach to stories, as well as your approach to the construction of each post. I often felt that posts in this thread were "too long", either because they needed stronger editing to become more concise or (more frequently) because they should have been broken into 2-3 shorter posts. This is easier said then done, but developing this skill will not only improve your short game, but add clarity and organisation to your plot development.

Wildcard: 8/10 - I have almost a page of unedited notes, so it'll be the work of a moment to provide specific examples for each category. PM me any questions if I'm not online :P

Total ~ 76/100 Well done - if this weren't a good read, I would not have made it through the whole thing.

Spoils: Everything you requested except the sword has to go through the RoG, but I have the feeling you've got a level coming up.

The International receives 1900 EXP and...

The Conduit: This is a delyn schiavona. This is a unique sword that deserves a bit of explanation. It is basket hilted, but the basket’s complex design is made to completely cover the user’s hand thus making it almost as effective as a gauntlet for protection. It weighs in at a whopping 2.9 lbs with a blade length of 40”. The blade is of a diamond cross-section and has a single, narrow fuller and an unsharpened ricasso area to allow a finger to be passed over the guard and through the finger-ring.

[Breaker]

Exp / GP added. Archived.

The International passes level 2!