A Legacy of Blood

[Elrundir]

Closed to those signed up in the recruitment thread (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?22389-A-Legacy-of-Blood-%28R-amp-C%29). All bunnying approved.

The Red Witch passed under the great boughs like a walking plague.
Leaves became as drying blood at her passing, and died.
Elf and man fled before her lest that fate be shared;
For the Devourer of Hope left only death in return.

The plague spread to the creatures of the forest,
Twisted by evil, broken by malice, crazed by hatred,
And the harmony the elves had shared was thrown into chaos.
Nature, an ancient ally turned blood enemy.

Her task complete when green was but a memory,
The Red Witch faded into unbreakable memory
Leaving only the dying forest behind her,
Its falling leaves like a rain of blood.

—From the “Chronicle of the Rain of Blood,”
as recounted by Relia del Giovona, Keeper of the Histories,
33rd day of Galatirion in the 3972nd Year of Hope.



* * *


The Red Forest. For milennia, it had served as a powerful symbol for the elven people. Cursed in an age long forgotten to all but the elves themselves, even they found it difficult to remember a time when those woods, once known simply as the Great Forest, were safe for man and elf to travel. For the shorter-lived races of the world, the Forgotten were just that—well beyond the boundaries of memory, little more than fairy tales used to frighten naughty children. But the elves would always have a reminder of their presence in the forest that spanned the southern reaches of their continent, now turned blood-red by the Red Witch Podë.

The region’s destiny as a heart of darkness would only continue when the Necromancer Xem’Zund set his sights on it as the jewel of his black dynasty. In the core of the Red Forest, he built the Obsidian Spire; it appeared overnight as if a remnant of a bad dream, a midnight-black dagger piercing the already-bleeding heart of the elves’ ancestral home and visible for miles around. It was the influence of this Forgotten One and his legions of undead that finally turned the Red Forest from a place of children’s stories to a nightmare in truth: from here, the Great Sieges of Eluriand began, and in the second such siege, much of that great, ancient city was destroyed.

There will always be historians who claim that that was the day Raiaera died. Reduced to a shadow of its former glory, the elves were surrounded by Forgotten to the south, impassable mountains to the north, and aggressors to the west, and the few survivors scrambled from the threats that assailed them to establish themselves wherever they could. The great watch-city of Carnelost was brought completely to ruin, the outer city of Eluriand lay broken at the hands of a Forgotten One, and Valinatal, guardian of the west against the aggressive Dark Elves, was too weak to withstand the hosts of undead. Indeed, it is not difficult to see how this was viewed as such a dark time for the High Elves—it was. But the elves had endured the wrath of the gods themselves, and they would endure this.

Now, Xem’Zund lies defeated, and the Forgotten are beginning once more to recede from the memories of humanity. But the elves will always remember. The rest of the world has the luxury of forgetting true evil only because it is the destiny of the elves to remember; to face evil that would crush lesser nations like wheat in a mill, their fate. As the elder race, it is their duty to protect the lesser, like children too innocent to see the precipice upon which they dance.

There is one elf that wages that war right now, within himself. In what seems itself an age long past, an age of folly and of death, this elf tried to rid one small part of the vast Red Forest of its taint. Together with the legendary bard Findelfin ap Fingolfin, he succeeded—but at great cost. Even the elves may forget that the Forgotten are not to be trifled with. Even a mere shadow of one of the Forgotten may threaten to blot out the light of the world.


* * *


How long had he been here? Time had lost its relevance—if indeed it ever had any to an immortal elf. The Red Forest was the heart of Raiaera’s darkness, and he was now its heart. The foolishness he had displayed in trying to purify that hatred… his thousands of years had not been enough to prepare him for what would be his greatest act of foolishness. That tree had been saved, and a small section of the forest around it, for a short while. But it had been like washing oil away with water: they had only displaced the taint. Moved it somewhere else. Into someone else. Elrundir Galadhrim.

In a stroke of humourless irony, he had returned to the place where it had begun. Here in the heart of the forest, at the foot of a great linden tree whose leaves were once again beginning to become sick with the poison of the Red Witch, sat a figure robed in black with skin pale like porcelain. The forest itself bound him: the roots of the linden tree coiled around his waist and legs, shackling him to the ground, a prisoner of evil—or of his own design. Pallid, sunken, immaterial, he might have been blown away by a brisk puff of air, shattered by a droplet of rain. But here he had lain, losing count of the years as the struggle within his own heart waged on and on.

It was a battle he could not win alone, and it was reaching a critical point.

Over the years, the elf had managed to wrest some vestiges of control from the taint that wracked his mind. His persona and the darkness were in harmony and complete chaos, each co-existing and seeking to devour the other. The darkness of a Forgotten One was immeasurable, and certainly far stronger than Elrundir could overcome. But he had at least grown clever in his many years, and the taint had taught him much. If it could use body against him, then he could use the taint’s connection to the outside world against it.

And so, at long last, after untold lengths of preparation, Elrundir sent out a call. A pulse. A beacon of darkness resonating through the trees and across the landscape of Althanas. All who felt it would know it as a source of great darkness, and those with the right talent and dedication could follow the stench right back to its heart. What they would do with that information, Elrundir neither knew nor cared; he had further moves to play, but in the end, whether the moths he summoned chose to help him or destroy him was immaterial.

He had already paid the highest price for his foolishness; cost was no longer relevant. Elrundir Galadhrim would defeat this darkness. And at long last, he would not try to do it alone.

[Silence Sei]

The sea of trees that surrounded him provided a cool shade from the heat of the sun's rays. An ominous breeze seemed to forbade the Mystic from doing what he was planning. He wondered if he was crazy, standing in front of a being he had thought shared the same brain patterns as his friend Elrundir Galadhrim. He had asked nobody to follow him, for what use would they have been when he knew he was better off alone in this?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You ready to call it quits yet, Sei?" The sound of Ta'Gaz, one of the Ixian Knights personal trainers echoed in the mute's ears. The orange haired Mystic was panting heavily, a hand placed firmly on the dirt below, legs quivering from working out with this bear of a man. He could feel the cold beads of sweat pouring down his otherwise burning cheeks. Just teen feet away from Sei stood Ta'Gaz, in a similar position, with a similar state. What had started as an ordinary sparring session had turned into a friendly fight egged on by the surrounding Ixian Knights, all of whom had placed their bets on whom they favored in the duel.

Ta'Gaz would strike with his offensive abilities, Sei would find an appropriate aikido throw to counter. Ta'Gaz would find a move to try and take Sei with him, Sei would find a decent grapple that would send both men tumbling to the ground, and back on their feet. It had been rather fast paced and brutal, a test of strength turned into a test of endurance. Ta'Gaz was in far better shape than the telepath; if this continued on, Sei would collapse first from exhaustion. The mute knew what he had to do.

Ta'Gaz came running after he had not been given a response, jumping towards the Mystic and appearing as though he were a cat pouncing upon a mouse. This was one of the trainer’s trademark maneuvers, and one Sei had not yet seen in this battle. Luckily, it was a perfect fit for Sei's last ditch effort. The strategist removed his hand from the ground, still crouching, and leapt into the air fist first, spinning his body as he did so.

Sei would never realize that the blow knocked out Ta'Gaz.

A sudden pulse of...something, slammed into Sei's mind like a stampede of Concordian Boars. Normally, the warrior Mystic could have shrugged off such a mental assault, but given the fatigued condition that this training had put the youngest Orlouge in, the telepath had lost consciousness almost instantly.

While he was out, Sei was constantly fed imaged of a certain elf he had met briefly in his life. Elrundir Galadhrim had met Sei Orlouge a few times in passing, enough for most people to consider it an acquaintanceship. However, Sei never believed in such a thing as a 'casual friend' and would reflect fondly of the few meetings and conversations the Mystic had with the elf.

It did not take someone as smart as Sei long to connect the psychic pulse to the images of Elrundir. As such, the mute had set out for Raiaera, demanding to be left alone in his mission. It would be easier to locate Elrundir if he were by himself anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sei closed his eyes. He disliked being here in the Red Forest, and regretted his decision to not allow himself some company. He knew that he was the only one that could help Elrundir now. The only question was, would Sei be able to escape the prison he was signing himself up for? He had done this a couple of times before, with other people, but each time almost left Sei in a vegetative state.

Was the risk big enough to take to someone the mute had only had a few moments with?

The telepath concentrated on the mind in front of him and began his first steps into the most dangerous territory known. Greater in hazards than anything the Red Forest could produce, Sei Orlouge entered the mind of another...

[Elrundir]

He is coming.

He could feel him already, passing beneath Lindequalmë’s blood-red boughs. Who was this human who dared to walk the paths of his forest? He had summoned him here, had he not? He had called to him. Why would he do such a thing? But he had. Yes, he could remember it now: he had sent out the call, announcing the presence of the taint here in this part of the forest, knowing that there would be those who would answer. But who had he summoned: a saviour or a destroyer?

It mattered little. He had come now. But why did we summon him? He will destroy us! He would destroy… who? It was so difficult to remember! If this person chose to destroy him, would that make him a saviour? Saving him, he was sure—though he did not know how—would be the ultimate destruction. Wouldn’t it? Who was “he?”

The human was very close now. Entering the copse of gnarled trees that was his prison. He recognized this one. Human, but not. His aura was thick, and its stink filled the air around the taint and its host. The taint receded from that, allowing Elrundir to bubble to the surface. I know this one, he thought. The elf grasped for control of his body. He needed only the slightest dregs of control now. If he could just…

No! A shadow tore out behind Elrundir’s withered form like a black cape, a jagged reflection of the willowy elf himself, ephemeral and terrifying. It let out a screech that rattled the leaves of the surrounding trees; they rained down around the two figures like drops of blood. The taint knew this person! A reaper of that which was forgotten! It needed, more than anything else, to flee!

And that was how Elrundir knew his gambit had succeeded. With gargantuan effort, the elf opened his eyes.

“You have come.” His voice was like crumbling leather, drier than the desert. Even he was surprised at hearing it; it was impossible to imagine the intricate intonations of song magic ever passing these lips. It had been so long since he had heard his own voice, and yet he knew that this was wrong. But he would only need to bear it a little while longer. “Sei Orlouge."

The shadow screamed again in a voice not human enough to be familiar, but too human to be comfortable from such a monstrous form. It fluttered like a kite in the wind as if trying to escape Elrundir’s body. That would have been such an easy solution to this ancient problem, but it could not be so: they had been bound together too long now, and the shadow was part of him. There was no separating them, but they could not coexist. One must be destroyed.

“You already know there is a source of great evil here,” the elf rasped, casting pallid eyes over the newcomer. That was why he had come in the first place. “That evil is within me, and we can no longer coexist. I have but one request: help me cleanse the taint, if you are able, or destroy me. I cannot allow her to gain more power.”

“Her?” the Mystic beamed into Elrundir's mind.

“The terrible one responsible for this forest; I will not become her puppet.” He paused and waited. Sei did not seem to be drawing arms or preparing to destroy him with sorcery, which he took as a sign of preparation to interact with the taint directly. Well, perhaps they would both regret this decision—it would certainly be the more difficult of the two—but he could not say he was disappointed. “Then you know what to do.”

The elf closed his eyes and said no more. The shadow melted into his body and the forest became still once again. It was time for two minds to become one.



* * *

The dead silence of the Red Forest gave way to the cacophony of battle. Sei found himself in the middle of a small forest encampment, mostly vacated, with roars both human and not coming from all directions. The trees within the camp were tall, straight, and proud, leaves green and healthy, but those on the outskirts were beginning to warp like the trees in the real world, gradually staining crimson. Only a few of those twisted trees were visible: much beyond the borders of the camp lay an inky, impenetrable darkness, bleaker than the walls of the Obsidian Tower itself, from which horrors worse than reality assailed the camp’s few defenders.

These were elves almost to the man, some recognizable as famous generals of Tel Aglarim, the Raiaeran army—Devon dan Sabriel and Findelfin ap Fingolfin in particular, and Nalith Celiniel, Lady General and High Bladesinger—while others were no more remarkable than common soldiers. Winged, clawed and tentacled varieties of horror struck from the darkness in their turn, just barely held off by the camp’s brave defenders. No dead littered the ground: whenever one fell to an instrument of evil, he simply vanished, and suddenly it became difficult to remember that he had ever been there.

A bird’s chirping caught the visitor's attention from above. He looked up to find a cardinal perched on a low-hanging branch peering down at him with beady black eyes. The bird fluttered its wings and then swooped down from its resting place, alighting before Sei—before exploding into a blue-hued spectre of a woman dressed in flowing robes indistinguishable from her body and hair that seemed to blend in just as easily. The ghost-woman was beautiful, in the way that an aurora is beautiful.

“Welcome,” she announced in a high, clear voice, passing her gaze over the two not so very unlike a bird would. “I am Rouge—or the spirit of Rouge—the familiar of my master, Elrundir Galadhrim.”

“Sei Orlouge,” the fire-haired mute thought in response, though the spectre seemed to know him already.

“My master wishes you to know you are very welcome. He awaits you even now, if you will please follow me?” Waiting only briefly for a signal of acknowledgement, Rouge turned and began gliding toward the base of a very thick redwood tree nearby. Jutting out from the trunk were a series of planks serving as a winding staircase. Rouge glided up these as easily as if she were flying—in fact, the bird herself could still be seen within the spectre, and she was flying—but it was a long trip. The tree was impossibly tall, and after uncounted steps, they were above the treetops fully. A little canopy had been carved, no, grown into the tree’s bough here, decorated lavishly in the Elvish fashion. It was easy to imagine that the entire forest must have been visible from this height, but that impenetrable blackness extended even here. The sun itself might well not have existed; covered lanterns provided the room’s only light.

Sitting in an elegantly-woven wicker chair in the center of the room was the elf himself, and he made the body sitting in the real world seem like a pale shadow of reality. This Elrundir was healthy and hale, slim but not unhealthily so, skin clear and smooth. His age was impossible to place, as it should have been for a pure blooded one of his kind. He appeared to be deep in concentration, but slowly opened his eyes as Sei and his guide ascended to the canopy.

“Welcome,” he said, and his voice was so different from what they had heard out in reality that it was easy to forget it was the same person. In the mind’s eye, Elrundir’s voice was clear like crystal, deep like the ringing of a gong, perfectly suited for the weavings of song-magic. “I apologize for not meeting you myself. I stand now in the eleventh hour, and Podë’s darkness closes in around me; all my efforts have gone into keeping it at bay. Please, sit.”

Suddenly, a chair like Elrundir’s appeared directly across from him. The spectre around Rouge vanished and the bird fluttered onto Elrundir’s shoulder.

“I must thank you for coming,” he continued, “but I must explain the nature of our situation to you and allow you to decide whether to continue. The mind of another is not a safe place at the best of times, but now that danger is magnified. I have been under assault by this darkness for years, and it has slowly but steadily gained ground, as you can see. It reaches into the depths of my memory and pulls out those moments most troubled, most torturous, to distract and shatter my concentration, allowing it to gain ground. They are not merely images; they are memories, and since we now exist solely inside my mind, we will not simply witness them—we will live them. That is why I have not yet been able to break through them and force the darkness back.

“But therein lies the flaw: if others enter these memories, they will simply be witnesses. It is my belief that they will be able to remember that what they are experiencing is not real, and it will be up to them to remind the subject of that. That knowledge will revoke the power of the taint, and that is what I have been seeking without success. I hope that you will be able to help me achieve that.

“However, the dangers we will experience are very real, even if they are only memories. Your body still in the forest, protected by my glade, but if your consciousness dies here, I cannot predict the consequences. It is your decision whether or not to remain.” At that, he fell silent and glanced at the man now sitting across from him. They had been friends once, had they not? Even here, in the inner sanctum of his mind, the past was like quicksilver. He could hardly demand this of the man, friend or no; Sei must choose to fulfill this task. What he hoped to get out of it, Elrundir neither knew nor cared.

Hiding his anxiousness beneath a porcelain veneer, the elf glanced out at the darkness surrounding the canopy. There was so little time remaining. If Sei wished to speak, he would have to do so soon, or live with the consequences of his inactivity. A never-ending dusk was fast approaching.

[Silence Sei]

The explanation was very to the point. Apparently, a lot of horrible things had happened upon the mute's friend since they had last met. It was a tragic fate for such a talented man, a travesty that no one person should have had to endure alone. Then again, Elrundir was not exactly alone, was he? The Mystic contemplated on the state his fellow warrior had been placed in, worried that he might actually hut the mage rather than help him. This was, after all, the third or fourth time Sei had ever actually delved this deep into the recess of somebody else's mind.

"I will help," Sei said, his lips actually having to carry each word out, "I will make sure that you stay true to yourself, my friend. Even if it costs me my own life, I vow that I will not let you be taken by this creature." It was odd actually talking, even if he was doing so in the same way he always had. Being in the mind of another allowed Sei more capabilities than he would have had in the physical realm.

He reached behind him, seeking solace in the grip of his favored Gemini Blades. If the pain would be real enough to them, would it be real enough to anything that could interact with them? Sei was not one to take chances on such things. With the soft sound of his swords leaving their sheaths upon his back, Sei nodded his confirmation to Elrundir. He looked to his friend, awaiting his reply and plan of action.

[Elrundir]

Slowly, with an almost regal sort of grace, the elf nodded. Sei had chosen his fate in words that left nothing to the imagination, and with it, perhaps he had chosen Elrundir’s as well. If they came away from this unscathed, then the Mystic would be owed a great debt. And if not… well, the debt would be of a different variety, but his own death would be more than suitable recompense.

“Thank you,” he replied, though there was nothing left in him for the warmth and gratitude that he ought to have displayed at that moment. Too many years of too much struggle had wrung all of that out of him, and now one might as well have expected blood from a diamond. There was much yet to be done, though the ball, as humans would say, was entirely in their enemy’s court. “Then ready yourself,” he said, and even as Sei drew his weapons, Elrundir stood and brandished the mythril staff propped up against his own chair. “The first thing that we must do is—”

He paused suddenly and took in a sharp breath, but only for the length of a blink before a violent tremor shook the treetop canopy in which they were resting. The massive redwood groaned as it began to sway deeply to one side. A cacophony of birdcalls sprang into the night as its denizens were roused from their slumber. Rouge, too, screamed and took wing, allowing her to remain roughly in place while the chamber moved around her. The two wicker chairs began to scrape slowly across the room; the degree of tilt was not great enough for them to tumble yet, which was good, because it was a long fall to an inglorious end for the two companions if they lost their footing now.

As Elrundir fought for purchase on the tilted floor, guardians of his mind sprang into being all around him, acting as if they had been there all along. They called to him frantically in High Elven, a dialect old beyond recognition even for one such as Sei; clearly they were status reports of some kind, from the words the Mystic could put together with the tone of their voices. Elrundir responded with shouted orders, clutching his staff like an old sailor clinging to the mast of a wind-beaten ship.

“No time for planning,” he said in the common tongue at last, perhaps intended to lighten the situation, though there was little mirth in it. His sharp eyes were focused on the canopy’s exposed outer wall. “She has found me at last.” That sounded mostly intended for himself. “They can fly now.”

And then, as if on cue, a terrible howl cut through the surrounding darkness, as did several shapes. No two were the same, each a twisted disgrace of nature. The only common thread between them was the wings allowing them the cursed gift of flight—but even that was as corrupt as the mind could make it. One beast, roughly humanoid and now alighted on the railing of the canopy, had a pair of great black bat wings protruding from its shoulder blades, and it snarled at Elrundir with the head of a rabid dog. Another had landed just inside the canopy to the elf’s left, and this one had wings instead of arms, wings which could not decide whether they belonged to a bat or a bird: skin, fur, and feathers covered them—and the rest of the monster—in equal measure, but they were not left wanting for sharp claws. A third had the audacity to claim wings of angelic white as its own, though it writhed with the body of a snake and the arms and legs of a Drow.

More creatures piled into the canopy, and at first Elrundir began to fear that when the redwood’s tilt had finished, it would snap too quickly in the other direction and throw all of them to their deaths. But the weight of these beasts served as a balance, and even they paused as the groaning and swaying of the massive tree gradually halted. That was where they were at a disadvantage: those wings would do them little good here, so they needed their balance and footing to destroy their prey now that they were in close quarters. Elrundir had no such limitations.

His voice rang out in a quick verse of song, the same dialect of elven as before. That song seemed to drive even the darkness back—just a touch, and then it took back its ground with greedy revenge. The words Sei could pick up spoke of heat, and as if nature itself sought furiously to obey, the room became uncomfortably warm, and the snake-bodied angel burst into flame. It hissed painfully and tumbled to the ground like a discarded toy, its feathers falling away in a fluttering veil of charred black. There was no detectable damage to the chamber or the tree itself: some laws did not apply here, at least if Elrundir did not want them to apply. Podë had taken much of his control, but not all.

As if that had been the shot that began a war, chaos erupted all around him. The beasts of thought snarled and hissed and crowed and growled, beating fists against chests, scraping claws, lashing tails, biting the air. His mental guardians leaped into action, intercepting many of the beasts as they found their center of balance and made their first attacks. Rouge screamed gloriously, her voice bright and clear, and blue flares of spirit-fire lanced out from her body, striking the monsters like bolts of concentrated hate. He could see Sei leaping into the fray as well, wielding his Gemini Blades with unparalleled skill. He had no reason to fear these minions of evil.

No... fear would come later, in the afterglow of victory, as it always did.

[Silence Sei]

Sei's eyes darted from creature to creature, making sure to take in the features of each one. The mind of the strategist was already assessing which beasts were the biggest threat, and the most efficient way to keep them out of the battle. He held his Gemini Blades and finally looked back to his friend, a smile on his face. The mute smiled because beside him, several blue lines were being formed into a humanoid figure. That figure, within a matter of seconds, would become an all out doppelganger of the Mystic. As the ungodly things began to lunge at the newly formed trio, so did Sei and his makeshift clone.

In the darkened landscape of Elrundir's mind, nobody and nothing could see the two blue and orange wings sprouting from the backs of the twin telepaths. The power of flight was a tactical advantage that the mute held over his fellow spell caster, and one he would not squabble away. If there had not been such roaring and clamoring down below, one could make out the sounds of sword tearing through flesh, and the screeches of the winged creatures as they fell onto the 'ground' of the mindscape. Most would be killed by either blood loss (Sei was, of course, assuming that the entities could 'bleed'), or the fall (He was also assuming they had 'bones' in order to break their necks). Once the skies belonged to Rouge and the warriors, the Orlouges descended to the ground, going after the bigger beasts of burden.

One particular creature resembled that of an Ox, only it bore the head of a lion, and the legs of what Sei could only assume was a squid. This fiend in question managed to grab Sei's clone with its tentacles, bringing it in towards its monstrous head, the jaws snapping in hopes of being filled with juicy meat at any moment. Yet, the creature would find no solace in its last meal, as the doppelganger began to disappear at Sei's beck and call to do so. As the animal roared a cry of anguish, its voice was cut short with s-shaped sword of the Gemini Blades finding its way between the demons eyes. The speckles of blood splattered on the Mystic face, cooling the features of the now heated up Orlouge.

Sei looked towards the last place he had seen Elrundir, curious to how his friend was faring. Before his blue orbs could make contact with his friend, however, he heard a voice speaking to him. The mute paid it no mind; it was simply his daughter, Anita, praising his heroic deeds as she usually did.

"That was great, Papa!" Anita shouted, obviously excited over the telepath's triumph. Sei turned to face his daughter, smiling as if to issue his thanks to her. It was during mid-turn that Sei had remembered that he had not taken Anita along. Even if he had, she would have been left in the actual Red Forest while Sei entered his compatriots mind. There was no way Anita Orlouge could have been here, and Sei cursed at himself for becoming so comfortable at having the girl nearby.

His blue eyes saw the snapping teeth of the lion-ox once more, pulling his swords back in hopes that he could at least take the demon with him. Before either of the combatants could deal their death blows, however, the true beast was frozen solid into a complete block of ice. Sei could feel the cold air giving rise just inches from his body. The closeness of the ice caused the Mystic to give a reactionary shiver. The mute looked around for Elrundir, hoping he could thank his savior before he was attacked once more.

Elrundir's presence became known in the form of his mythril staff slamming into the ice statue that was Sei's opponent. Tiny chunks of frozen blood and flesh flew onto Sei's body, getting into his clothes and causing even more shivers to arise. With the one hit from that staff, Elrundir had blown the vicious animal to pieces. Sei cursed himself at his carelessness. He was, after all, in Elrundir’s mind, so it would be logical that he was sharing a two-way link with the magician. His mind was just as open to his foes as it was to his friend. He would have to be more careful, next time.

"My thanks," Sei said, nodding to his temporary salvation, "Will there be a second wave, or was that just a test from our co-host?"

[Elrundir]

The fight ended much too cleanly. As each beast was dispatched, its bloody remnants remained only for a few moments before simply vanishing. No theatrics, no pyrotechnics; they were simply gone, as if they had never been. The faceless defenders of his consciousness filed out of the room, some of them vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. Rouge chirped merrily and settled back onto Elrundir’s shoulder; she shrugged and immediately began to preen herself with complete unconcern. Silence returned to the forest—an eerie silence, the silence of life itself being put on hold. In truth, not much existed outside the borders of Elrundir’s mental fortress right now; everything else was under the control of the Red Witch, and even an eerie silence was better than the calls of her twisted idea of perfection.

He turned to face Sei and shook his head at the man’s question. “Oh, there will be a second wave, and a third, and as many more as you can imagine until she is driven out of my mind completely. Her assault has been without respite for years, and it will not stop now. But first…”

Elrundir turned his head slightly and gazed out through the open walls of the canopy into the darkness surrounding them. The very tips of a few of the forest’s taller trees could just be seen here, but only within the relentless border of inky blackness. And then, as if summoned by his words, a sound began to cut through the darkness. It was the low ringing of a warning bell, repeated in urgent succession. He turned away from Sei and moved to the edge of the balcony, with the Mystic close on his heels.

“You see?” He gestured at the overwhelming darkness. Until now, it had been an immovable wall blotting out not only light, but life itself. But now that wall was pulsating like the walls of a great black stomach in which they were mere metres from being digested completely. Podë really had swallowed them whole—she had just done it from the inside out.

“I guess that means our first test is being prepared,” Sei said, looking toward the elf with a slight question on his lips. Elrundir nodded.

“Just so.” The first for you, he thought grimly, staring without expression at the now-rippling wall. I, however, have lost count. The horrors he had been forced to face within his own mind had reached innumerability, and yet he could not numb himself to them. Each reliving stung as freshly as when it had actually happened. That was the secret to the Red Witch’s power here.

“Remember,” he urged, “what we are about to witness is only a vision, a memory. We must both remember that with everything we have, in case the other cannot, and we must remind them. It is the only way to push back her influence.”

The low, urgent bells continued to ring, and slowly, creepingly, the darkness became absolute.



* * *

“Move! Get them out of here, now!”

The soldier’s voice was nearly drowned out by cacophony of screams filling the streets. Chaos was everywhere; for all the organization the army had attempted, it had come to absolutely nothing. Chickens with their heads cut off ran in better unison than these fleeing humans and the dwarves they nearly trampled underfoot. Elrundir supposed he couldn’t blame them—the demons had come with such haste and such ferocity that no one could possibly have predicted it—but this would only get them killed.

In the darkness, his keen eyes could see those festering horrors lumbering and lunging through the streets of crumbling Teria as if walking straight out of a horror story. These were the kinds of beasts parents warned their children about when they wanted obedience: armour-clad vampires with pearl fangs gleaming in the street-lights, winged monstrosities only vaguely humanoid in shape, and other things that go bump in the night, all of them horrible and disgusting, right down to the last. They belonged in their cramped little holes. That was simply their place.

He had come here as an envoy of the people of Raiaera on an entirely unrelated matter, and the people of Teria had dragged his party into another of their little messes. His father, a member of the High Bard Council, and his mother, a leading figure in the school of Dagorlin, helping to herd dwarves and humans who apparently wanted nothing more than to run around screaming until their heads were liberated from their shoulders! He’d had no qualms about offering the assistance, per se, but these people were bent on making things so difficult! No matter. He would do his part, because who could expect these people to be able to take care of themselves?

Elrundir rounded a corner at the head of a column of refugees and came face to face with a pair of hulking, gray-skinned demons wielding curved sickle-swords. His voice rang out in a high, clear note and both of the creatures exploded in a dazzling light show of flame and ash. They were resilient, however, and writhed forward with reckless abandon. Elrundir was easily able to step away from their lurching slashes, but it would be difficult to protect the frightened humans like this. “Get them away from here!” he ordered, and the human warrior herded his ilk down a quieter side street.

Before Elrundir could ready another spell, one of the demons split into two halves, its top liberated from its legs in a swift motion that he was not sure he had actually seen. The other soon followed, and when the corpses fell away, he could see an orange-haired man standing just behind them. He looked familiar—Elrundir was sure he should have known him—but there was no time for trying to figure it out. At least one of these humans was half-capable of self-defense.

“Follow them,” he said in a tone that expected obedience, and gestured after the fleeing group of humans. If he could put them under the care of someone else then so much the better. He could then meet up with his parents and try to break through the invaders’ lines to open an escape route.

“You have to see that this isn’t real,” the orange-haired youth said. There had not been defiance in his voice, but Elrundir drew himself up as if he had been insulted all the same. As if this human knew better than a high elf—and then to say such unintelligible things, right to his face! “It’s a vision! This isn’t happening!” he repeated when Elrundir said nothing.

The elf shook himself slightly and threw back his shoulders. Fear must have broken this youth entirely! Denial was, after all, the last reprieve of the feeble-minded. “None of you men make any sense whatever. If you have no intention of helping, then at least get out of my way!” But he was already moving past the man with the orange hair, perhaps to avoid giving him the chance to defy him, though he would never admit it.

To his pleasure, the man did not follow. Well, at least he had some sense. Letting out a verse in low baritone, Elrundir shifted into shadow form and slithered up the crumbling walls of the Coronian capital. He would just have to find his parents, now, and then they would show these underdwellers what glories the songs of Raiaera could truly achieve.

[Silence Sei]

A black nothingness had enveloped both Sei and Elrundir just as the elf had finished warning his friend of the coming visions. For several moments, the mute cried out for his friend, trying to help the Raiaeran keep his sanity by constantly reminding him that the youngest Orlouge brother was present. The bells slowly grew louder and were soon accompanied by the screams of innocent people. Sei looked back and forth, his body reeling from the intense heat of nearby burning houses. His throat quickly dried under heat, and he began to look around for some sort of drink to cool his palette.

Stop, Sei had to use every ounce of self-control to remind himself of what Elrundir had just told him to remember. This is just an illusion. The thirst is not real. My first priority needs to be Elrundir. Sei nodded as if he were responding to another person, running through the fleeing crowds in order to find his ally. The Mystic could see that the threat to these 'people' were vampires of a sort. Their armor reflected the light of the flames onto the ground, their hisses literally forcing the mute to sheath his Gemini Blades and cover his ears. The body heat of the rushing crowd around him did nothing but try to deter him from his task at hand. He had to find Elrundir quickly, before they both became lost in this illusion.

An observant man would have appreciated how each step the mute took left a print of his karate shoes in the dirt, ripples that were quickly stomped away by the escaping victims. The things the mute was feeling, the way that everything around him triggered all of his senses; it felt so real. The Dragon of Drantrak had to carefully maneuver his way past the fleeing citizens while trying not to get trampled himself. It was quite a task, attempting to brush someone aside when they were slamming into Sei's shoulders at full power. Each blow had felt more powerful than even the beasts the strategist had recently vanquished could deal. Sei had to guess that this was some sort of defensive mechanism, a way to keep the Avatar of Alerar from reaching his partner. For every one person the Mystic managed to ease by, it seemed as though three more were there to make him stumble backwards. It was a literal manifestation of an old Mystic proverb.

Five steps forward will cause six steps back. Sometimes to advance, you have to retreat. It was a saying his mother had always taught him. It was supposed to mean that, as a Mystic, Sei should never forget to look back and learn from his mistakes. Otherwise, he would simply continue trying to go forward without ever realizing that he was doing the opposite. Something was keeping Sei from Elrundir, and the fact that this crowd seemed practically endless caused the telepath to realize the truth to his mother’s words.

Sei turned a full one-hundred and eighty degrees, deciding to calmly walk with the crowd. The strategist smiled once he realized that the people were no longer running into him, but seemingly avoiding him. While this revelation did not help to ease the bruises in the telepath's arms, it did serve to lead him to his destination. As he walked, Sei caught the slightest glimmer of platinum hair teasing itself outwards from between two rather drab shades of gray. Sei began to think that this was another trick, but such thoughts were dispelled once he had heard the melodic voice of his friend followed by an explosion of crimson flames and white ash. It did not take the Mystic long to realize that Elrundir was actually in combat against the monstrosities that resembled statues in color and size. Sei grabbed his Gemini Blades, the two swords glowing with a bright blue and he rushed over towards Elrundir...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“None of you men make any sense whatever. If you have no intention of helping, then at least get out of my way!”

Elrundir brushed past Sei, the Mystic feeling powerless in his ability to remind his comrade of who he truly was. Sei watched as Elrundir rounded a corner. The Mystic let out a growl of sorts in response to his own feelings of inadequacy. Sei followed his ally just in time to see him perform a type of shadow meld ability and slither across the brick walls of buildings. Sei reached out, attempting to call out for Elrundir once more, when he heard a low groan coming from behind him. Sei turned, gritting his teeth as he watched two more large giants advance upon him. Even from twenty feet away, and among the smell of smoke and his own perspiration, he caught wind of the blood on the ruby red lips of the gargantuan. The Mystic shifted his two swords downwards, the blades running parallel with his arms.

"So, it seems you have a firmer grip upon him than I first imagined," Sei spoke, though the creatures didn't respond, their blood-stained fangs forming into a sadistic type of smile that sent chills running down the spine of the battle hardened Mystic. Holding his breath and hoping for the best, the Hero of Radasanth attempted to gain the attention of Elrundir another way.

"Assuming this is a memory of Elrundir, I'm just going to have to do something historically inaccurate to jog his memory!" Sei plunged the tip of his long sword into the soft flesh of the first giant, kicking him off with the utmost haste before running past the second.

"And that means finding somebody that Elrundir was close to," Sei smirked as he heard the thunderous footsteps behind him start to wane and lose momentum. He knew that something that was over seven feet tall was probably not as fast as the almost six foot warrior.

"Whatever it takes, old friend."

[Elrundir]

An elf strolled across the rooftops of the crumbling melting-pot society with a level of poise and serenity that seemed out of place amidst the chaos. His choice of vantage point was purely strategic: it afforded him an excellent view of the city, and his keen eyes needed that in order to find the other elves, and his parents among them. Certainly it had nothing to do with the fact that demons crawled through the streets like hellish rats in a crumbling warren. It had nothing to do with the terror that was most certainly not coursing through his veins.

As Elrundir walked, he sang, switching from verses full of passion and fire to those crackling with excited energy; demons around him fell, some of them swooping down from above on leather wings before being struck down by spears of blue lightning, others roasted alive by balls of intense fire as they roamed the streets below. Occasionally humans and dwarves turned and looked around in confusion and futility for the source of the music, the soundtrack to the end of their civilization, but the sights of those demonic forms—whether charging at them with sword and claw bared, or writhing in a macabre dance of flames—made them give up those searches before long.

The whole of Teria stretched out around him in all directions from this vantage point. Far to the north, the Jagged Mountains spat out of the ground like the crooked teeth of a dragon—or perhaps a demon waiting for the chance to swallow the city whole. He was moving near the southern wall, through which many of the refugees were fleeing, probably seeking sanctuary under the boughs of Concordia. The sky was beginning to choke with black smoke, and the orange glow of a thousand fires seemed to stain the cheerfully blue sky a shade of bloody red. It occurred to Elrundir that he had probably started some of those fires, accidentally. But a great evil like this required great sacrifices in its purification, and Teria was a lost cause anyway. Better to seal the city with the demons inside and burn it to the ground. If their reputation for tenacity was at all deserved, the humans would rebuild. And the dwarves? Well, what had compelled them to build above the mountains anyway?

But before any of that could be accomplished, he needed to find the other elves. If he didn’t do so quickly, the smoke would make his vantage point useless. He struck down another flying demon as it attempted to surprise him from a balcony just below the rooftop on which he was standing, and then shifted into shadow form to slither ahead and gain ground.

In roughly the center of the well-designed city stood a great square used for meetings and announcements to the populace. From the north of that square, a great building gazed down at the scrambling with gaping eyes that had been blown into its face by massive explosions of magic and fire. The leaders of the dwarven builders of this city resided there, he supposed—all dead now, most likely. But the central square was the target of his attentions for another reason: a group of elves was standing at its center, attempting to protect a middling crowd of panicked humans and dwarves, while a truly stunning host of demons closed in on them from all directions.

The elves filled the air with song, their Harmonies resonating with such power that Elrundir could feel his own body vibrating. Spears of lightning and waves of flame tore forth in every direction. Demons alternately froze and burst into flame, or were lifted into the air and torn limb from limb, or simply imploded, crushed by their own immensely-amplified center of gravity. But numbers were still on the demons’ side, and those humans and dwarves made the situation all the more difficult in their panic, some attempting to flee from the circle only to be crushed under half a dozen pairs of claws and fangs at once, or struck by a wayward spell. If they were so eager to kill themselves, then why under Aurient were the elves risking their lives to save them?

All the while the dwarven palace looked on with its lopsided face and its gaping eyes, and the way one of its massive doors had been blown off its hinges made Elrundir think it was smirking dumbly at all of them.

His parents were among those elves, and he could bear this madness no longer. It had nothing to do with fear for their lives the longer they stayed here, because he was composed. He ignored the fact that his songs took on a note of increased urgency as they melded with the Harmonies of his brethren. Great bolts of white-blue light fell just in front of his rooftop, scorching the earth and kicking up torrents of stone that flew in all directions.

As he strained to direct the lightning to its maximum effectiveness, he noticed an oddity in the crowd of demons. That human with the orange hair was there again, prancing through them as if they were no more than daisies in a field of flowers at springtime! Did he have no sense at all? Even if black blood was practically raining from the sky in his wake, the man was on a suicide mission. It just didn’t make sense. It should not have been. Could not have been.

Suddenly, with that thought, Elrundir felt the world shift. It was brief, but everything around him pulsed like a giant heartbeat, and the tumult was briefly silenced to a dull, distant grumbling that he was no longer part of. He thought he heard the sound of wind rustling the leaves of a great forest.

He was returned to the chaos when a bolt of his own lightning was wrested from his control and struck the face of the building he had been standing on. The stone shattered and flew in every direction, smallish chunks taking the limbs off demons and larger ones crushing them entirely, and in an instant he was plummeting toward the ground. Dumb luck prevented him from being crushed by those same bricks, but pain blossomed all through him as he tried to stand.

The elf could not explain what had just happened, and had no time to. Reaching for his staff and using it for support, Elrundir dragged himself to his feet to find that, miraculously, the demons’ attention was still on the circle of elven magi and their whirling spells of death. Praising Selana that his vocal muscles were the only ones not crying out in agony, he resumed his singing and began to carve a path through those demons, molten fire rolling off of him in waves hotter than his emotions, nearly melting the very stones on which the beasts stood.

But as he began to move through the teeming mass of blackened flesh, thrashing claws, and beastly wailing, Elrundir had the most curious sensation. It was a very acute and very distinct sense that he had witnessed all of this before. The fall from that building—he was sure it had happened before, and yet how could it? This was the first and only time he had ever been to Teria. The way the demons wilted before him like leaves in a brushfire was familiar, too, in its macabre way, but he had never fought demons before. And he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that if he forged just a bit further ahead…

The scene unfolded exactly as he had somehow known it would. The circle of elves had broken; one of their spells had been turned back, presumably by the concerted effort of several demonic mages, and a small horde of roaring beasts poured through the gap, erasing whatever remnant of the elves’ broken flesh remained beneath their clawed or hooved feet. Humans, dwarves, and elves alike were being thrown aside or trampled, and he had somehow known it would happen. Not just known like it had been an inevitability—known like he had seen it before.

He knew what would happen next, too. His blood ran cold with the memory that could not be.

As the circle broke and the demons poured in, elf after elf fell to their blades and spears and claws and teeth, and the Harmonies grew weaker and weaker. Elrundir tried to bolster them with his own voice, but the magics he unleashed were weakening. Soon only a handful of the elves stood back to back, his parents among them, fighting desperately against the pressing hordes with blade and magic alike. His silver-haired father wore that look of eternal arrogance as he rejected their attacks, but his fairer mother had begun to look worried as powerful spells danced down her arms or fell from the skies around her. Elrundir pressed toward them, pushing his body and his songs to their limit. Somehow he knew that it would all be for naught, and yet that only made him work harder.

Humans had done this, humans and dwarves and their absolute incompetence at handling their own affairs. Because of their rampant idiocy, their blundering naivete, their uncontrollable uselessness, his parents would…!

As if on cue, his parents were the only elves remaining in the group, standing back to back and looking resigned to their fate with the quiet grace for which his people were known. His voice broke, strangling the cry he let out. The horde pressed around them. To Elrundir, every sound was as clear as the ringing of a glass bell despite the chaos, because that feeling was still all around him.

But despair welled up with him, and the world began to fade to blackness. Hope was quickly dying, just as his parents soon would. A woman laughed somewhere, but he was sure it was his imagination, or else the mind of some feeble human had finally snapped under her own terror.

And then, something strange and miraculous happened that changed everything.

[Silence Sei]

With each passing second, Elrundir was slipping more and more into his own subconsciousness. This was omething Sei had to prevent at all costs; who knew if the elf becoming contained in his mind would also keep the Mystic there for all eternity? Of course, the mute had not given his own well being a second thought, not even as he ran through a horde of indistinguishable demons while slinging his weapons from left to right. If the monsters had the ability to truly bleed, then the Dragon of Drantrak surely would have been painted deep with the colors of the creatures life essences. Any monster that was left alive from the quick attacks were at least maimed enough to not be able to give the strategist chase. Sei could at least count his Thayne blessings in that aspect.

His attention was jousted from him with a thunderous boom, accompanied by flying rocks raining down upon friend and foe alike. The mute swiftly dodged and pivoted, turning his heels when need be to prevent his body from making contact with the stone, The creatures around the Mystic did now have the git of agility that Sei had, and where blinded or hurt by the collateral damage to the building. He could feel the wind as chunks of the estanlishment fell so close to him that he thought he would be a victim of the debris himself. He could hear the screams of others reaching his ears faster and faster, and he knew what had happened before he had arrived. The demons had broken through, and were killing the refugees.

A good thirty more feet and Sei was there, amongst the crowd of defending elves and defeated humans. The pointy eared brethren were doing their best to corral the panic fueled people into protection, but nobody seemed to be listening. Within seconds, only two elves remained; The first was a female, singing beautilful harmonies in order to defend the people with literally her last breaths, and the second was a man whose pride seemed to motivate the mute to move faster. The silver mane of the noble elf was high, his tones producing a fearful melody that managed to stave off their current attackers. Sei had tried to hurry in order to help, but none of the humans nor elves, save for these particular two, had survived long enough for the Mystic to arrive.

It did not take a researcher to realize that these particular elves were the parents of Elrundir. Sei's friend possesed his father's dignity, and his mother's great harmonies. Further, the fact that these two remained alive while the others had died was a great strategic move for crippling one emotionally. Saving the ones most cared about for last in order to break the psyche of the minds co-owner. It was something the mute would have done if he were trying to weaken someone in this situation. No doubt that the echoing maniacal laugh that now transmitted around the city belonged to Elrundir's foe.

The demons came at them, claws and teeth ready to rip into their prey. Instead of the taste of blood that they were expecting, the creatures instead got a taste of the Mystic's steel. Sei had managed to make it in time to jump in front of Elrundir's parents as they took a new breath for their songs. The mute slashed and jabbed with his swords, the blue glowing aura of the blades producing a sort of dance as the Mystic weaved around the Bladesingers, tearing into the flesh of demons. Soon, the sounds of the harmonies overtook those of demonic screams and muscle being torn through by weapon. The mute paused for a moment when his arms began to pulse with fatigue, his own breaths becoming havey and long. Just as a group of monsters had gotten their second wind and attempted to lunge at the Mystic, several lightning bolts were launched at the creatures, incincerating them instantly. Sei looked behind him to see Elrundir's mother nodding towards him, keeping up her offensive song.

It had become a good strategy; When Sei tired, the Galadhrim's covered him long enough to rest, and when they needed a few breaths, Sei would physically beat off the encroaching horde. It was a great partnership, one the mute had to admire as a tactician. Soon, all of the demons kept their distance from the trio, biding their time until all were too exhausted to continue. Sei could feel his body start to give out, his eyes shifting the rooftops to ensure no magics were coming at his newly formed party. Instead of the enemy, however, the mute found Elrundir watching from a distance. The cold blue eyes of the mute did not change as he looked at his friend, hoping that by forming this partnership with his parents, the Mystic had been able to awaken something in the elf...

[Elrundir]

Despair had become like a thickness in the air, filling every corner of him with hopelessness, but Elrundir fought on just the same. He could do nothing but. It was like something else was moving his muscles, a force beyond understanding, even though all he wanted to do was lay down and surrender everything. Teria had fallen and his parents would die at the hands of these demons. What else mattered?

But he could still hear his voice singing over the cries of death and the sounds of crumbling buildings, the cacophony of a crumbling civilization. Fire leapt from his hands and lightning fell from the sky; demon bodies danced lifelessly in the air and littered the broken ground, torn asunder or glowing with the embers of immolation. All of it seemed distant and muted, something happening to someone else. The only thing that felt acute, that felt real, was the pain.

The demon horde pressed inward, and Elrundir could practically see the hammer falling against the anvil, and them the nail between. He thought he heard a ghostly voice echoing from the sky with mocking laughter, but dismissed it instantly in favour—or fear—of the sound he would hear next: teeth tearing into elfflesh and the final cries of his parents.

He was half correct. There was a sound of something tearing through flesh, and the wet splatter of blood against the rocks of the city square, but the cry that followed was not that of an elf. Deep and guttural, it rent the sky, and Elrundir looked up and saw that the orange-haired youth had placed himself between his parents and the nearest of the demons, taking its arm cleanly off. There was no way that three would stand against that horde any better than two, and yet, the way the human moved…

Suddenly, that feeling washed over him again. Something was wrong, not as it should be, out of place. The laughter stopped, if it had ever really existed. A great shudder took everything, the beating of a massive heart, though only Elrundir seemed to notice it. The sensation of detachment grew stronger, of being only a witness to events that did not concern him.

Then he realized he was somewhere in the air, staring down at everything. Teria was a pit of fire littered with crumbling buildings, uncontrolled fires, and the red-stained corpses of the dead and damned. The demons sprawled in all directions below him, a black sea of twisted shapes. They seemed to him like a galaxy of evil rotating about three central stars, two elves and a human, lashing out with song and spell and sword. And directly below him was his own dumbstruck body, separated from the throng, a comet but kissing the edge of reality.

The world pulsed again. Mist danced in from the horizon in all directions, shrouding the battle in a haze of formless grey. Not the battle—the world. The grey darkened and became black, until he could see nothing and the battle was just a series of sounds; those vanished suddenly, falling away from him like the shattering of glass, and he knew nothing more.

* * *

Elrundir woke to the whispering of a gentle breeze and felt something hard beneath him. Wood. A floor, he realized as he opened his eyes and pushed himself to his knees, though he had been standing on cobblestone just moments before. Blinking fiercely to clear his vision, he realized that he was back in his canopy. Crumbling Teria had all been a dream, and yet…

Sei was kneeling nearby. The guardians of his mind were arrayed about the room, facing outward, none of them appearing as though anything out of the ordinary had happened. They were as varied as his memories, tall and short, fair and dark, man and woman, though all of them elven and all staring outward with that stoic, eternal patience.

The elf reached for his staff and used it to rise. It was only then that he noticed the wall of darkness around his canopy had retreated. Though the treetops looked all alike and would have been indistinguishable to lesser eyes, he knew them as brothers and sisters, and that he could see many more of them than before was undeniable.

“It worked.” He was surprised to realize that his confidence in the plan had actually been less than total. To be honest, he’d had no real idea of the rules of Podë’s game, and thus the path to victory had eluded him. That his quite literal stab in the dark had succeeded brought a resurgence of a strange feeling to the elf’s breast. Hope, perhaps? It had been so long that he had nearly forgotten the word itself.

“So what exactly happened?” Sei asked. He had made his way to the balcony and was peering out at the receding wall of darkness. One could almost imagine sunlight streaming down on the treetops once more. The braziers lighting and warming the canopy seemed just a little less necessary now—but a sudden chill reminded Elrundir that Podë’s game was far from over.

He struggled to collect the memories. They eluded him like quicksilver. “It was a memory,” he realized. “What we witnessed was a day thousands of years past: the start of the Demon Wars, and the fall of Teria—where the city now known as Radasanth stands. It was also the day my parents died.” He moved to the balcony beside Sei. A tall elf with long, black hair, an unusual shade, stepped aside to make room and took Elrundir’s staff, but otherwise took no notice of them. The elf gripped the delicate willowwood railing with unsteady hands.

“It is as I told you before: all of this is happening within my mind, where I have no way of discerning reality from fantasy. It was a real event, to be sure, but it was not actually happening at that moment; I was only made to think it was, to relive the pain and weaken myself. When you first revealed yourself to me in the memory, I felt something was amiss. The feeling resurfaced when you interjected yourself between the demons and my parents. One part of me knew how the story ought to have unfolded, while the other witnessed what was really occurring. When the two diverged, the vision parted, and so we find ourselves here.

“That was the key. If we can manage to keep this momentum, we will be able to push back that wall of darkness further. Somewhere out there is Podë herself, or whatever part of her has infected my mind.” Suddenly, the bell tolled again, singing its urgent warning. That surprised even Elrundir—her visions had never come so quickly before. Normally he would have had time to relocate himself, hiding himself temporarily and delaying the next attack. She’s beginning to panic, he realized, and smiled.

“Once more into the breach,” Elrundir said, and blackness became everything.

[Silence Sei]

Once again, the world had been filled with a seemingly never-ending darkness. The mute could not determine any direction, or even where Elrundir had wound up. All the Mystic knew was the infinite abyss that enveloped his mind. He tried walking around the area, tried to find his friend, with no success. He was at the mercy of Podë. Sei tried to calm himself, constantly keeping the reminder that as long as he was in Elrundir's memories, he could interfere with the way the elf remembered the story, and release them from their makeshift prison. Podë would gradually get weaker until she had no choice but to face the two warriors herself, and fall.

Sei suddenly took a deep breath, the world changing around him in a fraction of a second. He could hear the sounds of violent fighting muffled only by the oak door behind him. He could barely make out the sounds of someone issuing orders while vicious animals growled and clawed their way into each other (or so Sei had gathered). In front of him was a red carpet that had been rolled out to his feet, ending up the three steps and to the throne room where a green haired figure sat casually, a small wine glass of red liquid situated between her ring and index fingers. Sei took a hard swallow and stepped forward, his foot seemingly causing something loud to slam behind him.

"No, don't mind me," a voice from behind the mute spat, rife with sarcasm, "I'm just making sure we don't get eaten by the undead! No, go see your little girlfriend!" Sei turned around to find the source of the voice, a person of average height, several Kunai lining the hip of his black jacket, and a black Akashima assassin styled mask covering his face. Play Back's insincere words would have to wait. Right now, the Mystic had more important matters to attend to. He turned and began to walk down the red carpet; each step feeling like another weight was being placed upon the Hero's back. He could hear Play Back behind him taking the same cautious steps. This was the girl who had been responsible for Maggie Beth's death. Play Back had been infatuated with Maggie, so it stood to reason that the teen would be a bit withdrawn to going towards the murderer with all he had.

"Sei Orlouge," the girl seemed to his the beginning of the mute's name, revealing her extended canines, "It has been far too long." Ryoki Nishoba took a sip from her glass, the crimson blood staining her teeth after she put it down. "I hope you have enjoyed the accommodations I have made for you. My welcoming party was more than a little eager to entertain you and your friends. It's a shame that they tend to get carried away with their celebrations..."

"Enough, Ryoki," Sei spoke as he reached behind him, gripping the hilts of his Gemini Blades, "this ends now."

"Oh but Sei," Ryoki replied before sipping her blood as if it were a fine wine, "I did all of this for you. Making sure that the child got you into town, the ambush in the forest, the turned animals, I even planned for this little exchange." The girl's golden eyes shifted behind Sei, slanting a bit as if Play Back's presence was something vile to her, "Of course, I didn't expect you to bring a guest."

"Wait a minute..." Play Back spoke, gripping the necklace around his neck, "You mean to tell me that this whole thing... the zombies, the calculated vampire attack, even Maggie’s death, was all an elaborate scheme to get Sei here?" His fist was trembling in anger, his voice filled with a quivering mix between rage and sadness. "Maggie Beth sacrificed herself...for you." Play Backs last word was filled with hatred, though Sei did not know if he was speaking to Ryoki or the Mystic.

"Cattle are made to be slaughtered," Ryoki spoke with a slight smirk, the red teeth now highlighting the pale, haunted face of the woman, "but if it makes you feel any better, I was told she died begging for mercy..."

"You FUCKING LIAR!" Play Back shouted, now lunging at the girl. The child had grabbed one of his kunai in mid air, planting it into the purple cushion of the chair that once held Ryoki Nishoba. Play Back looked for a moment before turning to Sei and pointing. The mute looked to his side just in time to be struck with the back of Ryoki's hand, a gesture that sent the Mystic flying into a wooden pillar that adorned the room. The snapping of wood as several oversized splinters fell upon the mute’s body disoriented the warrior even further, but Sei still managed to stagger upwards, reaching once again for his Gemini Blades and unsheathing them. By this point, Play Back was already trying to charge Ryoki once more.

"This. Ends. Now!"

[Elrundir]

With each passing moment the sense of unfamiliarity grew within Elrundir. He was certain—and a little surprised, perhaps—that they were currently witnessing one of Sei’s memories, not his own. The Red Witch had adapted quickly to this new presence in Elrundir’s mind, and played her cards skillfully; knowing that Sei had discovered the secret to undoing her illusions, she had quickly called up another, but reversed the roles in the hopes that Elrundir would be less successful.

It was a clever enough plan given the circumstances, which she must have recognized as increasingly dire, but Elrundir had done with her constant underestimation. The only thing he needed to figure out now was how exactly to convince Sei that this was not real. That would be the real difficulty—he had absolutely no idea what was happening here. The mute and a man in a mask of some vague human design Elrundir could not place were approaching a dark woman on a throne, casually rolling a glass of wine in her hand. No, not wine, the elf realized—it was too viscous for that. This was like stepping into a theatre in the middle of a play, and he was struggling to so much as name the players.

The situation exploded too quickly for any hope of preparation. Something the vampire said—it was clear that she was a vampire, at least; his keen eyes could pick out her teeth like pearl daggers—had made Sei’s companion furious. The name “Maggie Beth” surfaced, and from the way the young man began toying with his necklace, his desire to lace those fingers around “Ryoki’s” neck could not have been plainer if he had been shouting it at the walls.

And then, before words for Sei even condensed on Elrundir’s tongue, he did exactly that. Silver glittered in the torchlight, and an instant later there was a dissatisfying tear and a thunk as the kunai missed its target, tearing into her velvet throne instead. Sei was flying through the air even as they realized Ryoki had vanished, and as he crashed into one of the throne room’s many pillars, Rouge squawked in alarm and took to the air.

That got the vampire’s attention. Her dark eyes glittered as they found him against the wall of the throne room, in the shadows between two of the wall sconces. “Two guests,” she hissed. Sei was pulling himself to his feet, and the human was retrieving his dagger from the cushion of Ryoki’s throne. “I’m beginning to think you don’t value our alone time, Sei.”

“I would still that tongue’s flapping, beast,” the elf said dismissively, fixing the woman with an expression of only vague interest, “or you are like to bite it off.”

Before she could respond, the young human had leapt into action again. He snarled like a barbarian, as if the vampire’s reflexes needed any sort of warning to begin with, and threw another kunai. This one sailed likewise through thin air, and would have hit Sei had he not begun to engage the woman with his Gemini Blades drawn. He beamed a command at his companion, referring to him as “Play Back,” which was possibly the silliest name for a human Elrundir had ever heard in his long life. Sei, at least, was fast enough to catch Ryoki as they clashed on the far side of the room, but she somehow caught one of his blades as he brought it down, and used the momentum to slither past the other like a snake.

A glint of light signaled another kunai flowing through the air, but again “Play Back” was too slow. Was it so difficult to see that they would not defeat the vampire in a show of speed and reflex? But it was clear that she was counting on them to attempt exactly that. Her movements were as predictable and as dependable as a dwarf’s gold-lust: every time one of them attacked, she would vanish in a fit of inhuman speed, and appear somewhere near the other one in an attempt to catch them both unawares.

Knowing that this time she would choose to attack somewhere near the Mystic, Elrundir began to focus a spell in that direction. The sound of his voice reverberated off the distant stone walls of the great room, oddly unheeded by the three combatants. A dank chill spread throughout the chamber, and that seemed to be all until Sei spun to meet her and Play Back threw another of his angular daggers: this time, it bit flesh. The vampire’s eyes widened: her feet had become encased in thick ice, sealing her to the floor of her own throne room. Booming another thought through the room, another unheeded command for Ryoki to surrender, Sei swung the Gemini Blades, and his foe produced a weapon of her own, somehow matching his twins despite her lack of any sort of footing at all.

Taking advantage of a single opening in Sei’s offensive wall, Ryoki drove a palm into the mute’s chest, launching him backward. Play Back was already moving forward to intercept, but not before she drove her blade into the ice that shackled her to the ground. It shattered easily, but by then the sounds of battle had already changed, and the room was rapidly warming as the words echoed from wall to wall. A lance of flame danced erratically across the room from Elrundir’s palm, very nearly striking the vampire, but she pulled her vanishing act one more time.

He could sense her behind him, this time, and knew that he would not be able to react. But he would not have to: something screeched from above, and Rouge dove downward from the ceiling, unleashing a blast of blue spirit-flame at Ryoki. That was enough to drive her away as it caused even the stone to smolder. Rouge settled on her master’s shoulder, and the other three continued their battle.

This is folly, he thought as the three danced in and out of sight along the opposite edges of the room. He was once again all but forgotten—he was not part of this world. An aberrance. I must make him realize that this is not real, but he is too deep in the fight. And yet if he allowed Ryoki to slay Sei, there was no telling what the consequence would be for the man’s body in the living world. Not only would he likely die, but Elrundir’s fate would also be sealed with no one to help free him from Podë’s insanity. It was a precarious balance, and time was running short.

When his attention returned to the battle, he found that Ryoki had lost her upper hand: Sei had somehow gotten behind her and was holding her in a tight grip from behind to prevent her escape. “Now, Play Back!” he sent, and the other man closed in with a kunai in each hand. And that was exactly when the answer came to him: Sei isn’t speaking.

He needed to get them to notice him. The rule in this little illusion seemed to be that he was on the periphery of their attention unless he did something to directly attract it, so he would do exactly that, and all eyes would be on him. As Elrundir’s song rolled through the cavernous throne room, he launched a ball of flame from his hand. Ryoki could flail all she liked and it would not stop this one. It connected firmly and then exploded white-hot, radiating light and fire and pain in all directions. The vampire and her captor were separated, he being shielded from the worst of the blast by her body but being thrown backward nevertheless, while Ryoki collapsed unconscious on the ground, most of her silk melted away by the blast. Play Back did not fare too poorly: he had not been able to reach the woman nearly as quickly as the fire could, but the blast still threw him across the floor and he only stopped when he collided with the opposite wall.

But the song changed to one slow, melancholy, and full of deep baritone, and the long shadows thrown around the room began to slither toward the boy as he struggled to his feet. They coiled around his neck and began to drag him up the wall, kicking and shouting all the while. Elrundir glanced in Sei’s direction to see if the Mystic was taking the bait; his eyes had been on the fallen Ryoki, but the screams drew that attention away, and now they found Play Back—and Elrundir.

“Y—You,” he sent, his thought tasting of confusion and uncertainty. Was he beginning to experience those same sensations Elrundir had, when Sei had invaded his memory? “What are you doing here, Elrundir? What are you doing to Play Back?”

“Helping you,” the elf responded. He glanced up to the assassin and tightened the shadow noose. His captive gave a cry and struggled all the more fiercely, hands around the coil. “I will make you realize that this is not real.”

“Not real?” Sei thought incredulously, shaking his head. “Have you gone mad?”

“Speak,” Elrundir said, ignoring the question, and looked pointedly in the Mystic’s direction. “Speak. With your mouth, not your mind. Speak, or the boy dies.” The noose tightened again. It would actually begin choking Play Back now, he knew, though there would have been no reason to believe he hadn’t been choking him all along; the boy’s panic filled in the blanks more than adequately. His death, at least, was expendable: he was just a memory within a memory, less than nothing.

Getting Sei to speak was paramount. Here in this memory, the Mystic believed that he was still mute, and with good reason: he had no reason to think otherwise. But Elrundir had noticed that in his mental fortress, that had been no barrier, and Sei could speak as easily as anyone else. He must realize that, and sever the veil that had been cast over him.

“You have gone mad!” Sei said. He waved his hand vaguely in Elrundir’s direction. “Release him.” That trick, at least, had been expected, but mental persuasion would not work here; they were, after all, still inside Elrundir’s mind, and this was not real.

“Fool of a man!” the elf shouted, angered by the attempt and feeling his patience wearing thin. “Did you think I was lying? Speak or he dies!” He waved his hand and Play Back came away from the wall, and then with another gesture was slammed back into it, to punctuate the point. “I am not unreasonable, and ask only a small price for the boy’s life. Speak!” Or we all die, he really thought.

He could see the wheels of thought turning in Sei’s mind. Play Back’s face was already beginning to change colour, paling from the lack of oxygen and now shifting through shades of red. From the way Sei played with his swords, he thought he might try to attack him, but a more direct threat to the boy’s life would have done with that idea.

He made ready to slam the boy one more time, but it proved unnecessary. All his options had been weighed, and Sei opened his mouth… and spoke.

[Silence Sei]

"Elrundir," the urgency in the mute's voice was clear, "Cease your madness now!"

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment. The blood that the mute could feel running down his forehead seemed to dissipate; the distorted, bitter taste of the air became a taste of nothingness once more. Even as the Mystic looked at his fellow wizard strangling the life out of a child, Play Back's body began to become a black mist of its former self, scattering to the nothingness. The Hero of Radasanth moved his eyes around furiously, watching the walls melt into a black pool at his feet, until finally there once again became an infinite black abyss around himself and his friend.

Sei was not used to those more powerful in the ways of telepathy. His own parents were adept at the skill, but the mute had surpassed his father, and had never seen his mother's full mental potential. It was quite a disorienting experience to be trifled with in the mind of his friend. Everything Sei had faced in the confines of another's mind had been a close call, most of the beings able to manipulate the mind of their victim better than the mute. All of those times that Sei saw himself at the jaws of psychic death at the hands of another, every time some astral creature had him in the throes of defeat, every single fight ever held in someone's mind....

....All of those times were nothing.

The fight had been an illusion; Sei himself was in a psychic form, so why could he feel his legs wobbling? His breathing was more rapid, shallower than it had been before entering the memory. He wanted to scream and reach for a weapon, prepared to handle anything that could come his way. His arms remained at his side, his lip quivering, catching a few stray beads of sweat as they rolled down his features. He could not move, could not talk. Sei Orlouge had faced the demons of the nether realm, destroyed entire armies with nothing but his intellect, but this enemy was something far more powerful than even the Avatar of Alerar could comprehend. For one of the few times in his life, Sei Orlouge was terrified of what was to come.

If Elrundir was speaking to him, he could not hear. He focused on the laughing; the snide laughter of a woman who knew that she had won. Sei took a hard swallow, shifting his eyes towards the small bumps placed all over his pale skin. He was unsure how much longer he could last in Elrundir’s mind. This force that held his friend prisoner was using their memories to weaken them, distract them from the task of finding her. He shifted his blue orbs back to his friend as if to try and find some solace in the magician's face. Elrundir's black eyes remained unwavering, full of the resolve to banish Podë from his head. The confidence that the elf showed empowered the Mystic just enough to move his fingers again. The digits felt as if they had awoken from being slept on all night, a sentiment shared with the rest of Sei's body. They had to win, they could win, Elrundir had to win.

As Sei's own bravery began to return, the room shifted once again, the sinister laugh of Podë growing ever louder. They were getting closer to her, it seemed. Perhaps she was weakening with each failure of her massive skills. This thought caused Sei to stand up straight and proud, showing off the same bravado that his friend was showcasing. As long as one of them was there to remind the other that it was all an illusion, they would be fine. Podë could not defeat them with such a cheap trick, not anymore.

A table, if it could be called such, sprang up between Elrundir and Sei. In truth, it was several boards placed upon two double-stacked crates. The cloth of a tent began to rise from the ground, surrounding them. The top of the makeshift table began to give birth to a large map, several red and blue blocks placed all around what appeared to be a map. Sei walked over to the map, looking over it carefully before his eyes began to grow wide. This was one of his memories, but he could remember that it was just a memory. Podë was no longer going to use illusions to trap the two warriors in Elrundir's mind; she was going to make them fight one another.

"Elrundir," Sei shouted hurriedly, an attempt to warn his friend before the following event could happen, "you must not listen to an---"

"I understand what you're saying, Sei," A deep, yet gentle voice came from outside the tent, "but you do not seem to understand what I am telling you..." The Mystic turned to find himself facing a man wearing a white porcelain mask. The eyes beyond the mask seemed to be made of pure ice, and as he passed the mute, he could feel the cold air that always surrounded him. This man was known as Thoracis Rakarth, one of the greatest generals in the history of Alerar, and mentor to a young Sei Orlouge.

"I understand completely, my lord," The mute shuddered at the way his younger self could still use telepathy to speak even within the confines of another's mind, "but my point was that these are -not- just men defending their home from invaders. This is a group of Dark Elves trying to get back the part of the land that they have a rightful share with. If we must use drastic strategies in order to reclaim land in the name of Alerar, we should do so post-haste." The mute could remember this argument, it was the night before the invasion of Nanaebreth, a primarily woodworking area, and a steady means of getting supplies into Eluriand. The High Elves of Raiaera had not expected Thoracis and a small group of men to travel across the continent incognito in an attempt to wrest away an important trade route for them. After all, Nanaebreth was located in the middle of Raiaera territory, making it a suicide mission if the unit got caught.

"We will proceed as planned," the calculating voice of the younger Sei filled the minds of everyone in the room once more, "I have placed the troops just outside of the city. They are complacent in their ways; they know not the horrors of the war that battles at their borders. Before the sun rises, my men will sneak into houses, taking any potential weapons that the elves within the town may have. The men have orders to kill any sentries that may be patrolling tonight. Before the sun comes up, Lord Thoracis, you will have a new town and a body of High Elves at your foot." Thoracis nodded as he moved the blue pieces down the map, taking away the red pieces situated along the route to Eluriand from Nanaebreth.

"....Well done Sei. That is all."

Thoracis Rakarth's words faded into an echo as the world blinked into the blackness again. That campaign had been one of Thoracis' most successful endeavors, and it was because his head strategist seemed to have no problem slaughtering unarmed men and civilians. Now, the older mute had to answer for the folly of his younger self, in front of one of Raiaera's greatest heroes...

[Elrundir]

Elrundir had resigned himself to silence as the world faded around him once again. Fear was the furthest thing from his mind now, driven out by cold, tempered determination. How could he be afraid now? Podë had unleashed these living horrors on him for years now, utterly smothering whatever sense of fear he had once harboured. The Red Witch had won every tilt until Sei arrived, but now they would come up in his favour.

Her laughter rippled through the trees, a cold, malevolent, confident wind, but it rang hollowly in his ears. What cause had she for such certainty? In the brief moment during which they had reappeared back in the canopy, Elrundir confirmed that the wall of darkness had receded even further, and now he could see a good dozen miles along the sea of autumn reds and yellows. But that spun and faded again, as it had so many times before, and he was used to that too; it had made him sick to his stomach at first, and later just filled him with a sense of looming dread, but now that each of these forays into mad memory was slowly resulting in victory, he embraced them like old friends.

They found themselves in a tent lit dimly by braziers hung in its four corners. The night was dark, and Elrundir could feel its chill creeping in from beneath the tent’s walls. He resisted the urge to shift closer to the warmth of the fires, however, as he had an unobstructed view of a war map spread out across the top of a makeshift table. Its corners were weighed down by metal figurines: one was a sleeping lioness, another a dark elf wielding a wheellock rifle, the third a dwarf holding an upturned battle axe, and the fourth a miniature Aleran dirigible. But the map itself was of the greatest interest to Elrundir: it was a crude but obvious map of Raiaera, most likely pieced together by inexperienced dark elven spies, and the red and blue blocks would have depicted sizable elven and dark elven forces. It was clear that this memory took place during one of the many attempted invasions by Raiaera’s unfortunate western neighbours; but it was not familiar to him, and what role could Sei possibly have in such an event?

“Elrundir,” his friend began, “you must not listen to an—”

He did not stop to ponder the fact that Sei knew this was a vision as much as he did. His interest had been drawn to a conversation coming from outside the tent. If we must use drastic strategies in order to reclaim land in the name of Alerar, we should do so post-haste, one voice beamed. There could be no mistaking its source. Suddenly Sei’s presence beside him was vaguely uncomfortable, and as the mute outside the tent continued transmitting his thoughts, that discomfort transitioned into annoyance, and then anger.

Before he knew it, Elrundir found himself moving for the tent flap. He flung it aside and stepped out into the cold night, finding himself face to face with a familiar orange-haired Mystic talking to a man he had hoped never to see for as long as Galatirion saw fit to let him live. “Thoracis Rakarth,” he growled, feeling the blood rise in his throat. “The Bastard of Alerar.”

Neither of them noticed his entrance or heard his words, and their conversation continued. His eyes widened as Sei told them of his plan to slaughter the inhabitants of Nenaebreth in their beds, one of the greatest tragedies in recent memory before the resurgence of Xem’Zund’s power. His anger bubbled, and then the most innocuous of words boiled it over: “Well done, Sei. That is all.”

All of Elrundir’s rage exploded in a single scream. His dark robes rippled and flared in all directions, and wave after wave of white-hot flame pushed away from him, a blinding corona scorching the tent behind him, the grass beneath him, and even, it seemed, the stars in their distant heavens. The Bastard and his lieutenant melted away, but not because of the flames: the vision ended, and Elrundir and the real Sei were standing once more in the canopy treehouse. The mystic’s arms were thrown up in front of him to protect himself from the blast, which he had unfortunately managed all too well.

“So, Hero of Radasanth!” Elrundir spat, lacing each word with such venom as to shame a viper. “Or shall I call you the Reaver of Nenaebreth?”

He watched the mystic with cold, unflinching eyes. Rouge made no sound, but had puffed herself up from her perch on his shoulder, looking as indignant as possible for a creature of her size. The elf’s mental guardians were watching Sei, too, standing as still as statues and watching him with no more emotion, each appearing but moments from baring steel.

“Elrundir, you must understand—”

“I need understand only that you orchestrated the slaughter of thousands of innocents—of my people—in their beds, Betrayer!” He laughed, a short, cold bark completely without humour. “A strategy worthy of one whom humans would take for their hero.”

“Please, let me explain! Don’t you see what Podë is trying to do?”

“She would know, wouldn’t she?” the elf snapped. “PodenebrÃ*elléna, the Great Betrayer herself! You find yourself in venerable company with the Mother of Curses, mute, though she never planned the slaughter of innocent, sleeping civilians. Even when the Autumn Isles sank beneath the sea, at least it was in open rebellion against her and her brethren!”

Elrundir found himself suddenly shocked out of words. He was recalling information—names, places, dates, events—that he had never heard of before. It was like he had drawn up a massive flood gate, and the whole of the Red Witch’s existence was crashing into his memory unbidden.

It was in that brief silence that Sei found an opportunity to speak; he seemed less fazed by this inexplicable knowledge. “Do you think it was easy for me? You have to let me explain!”

He took a step forward, and instantly every weapon in the room was drawn and aimed. Elrundir faced him with an expression as cold and unyielding as steel. “That is exactly what I think, for what could be easier?” Rouge let out a sound that could very well have been a growl, such as a small bird like her could make. “I have to do nothing. But if I exact Nenaebreth’s revenge here—and mistake me not, they deserve not one drop less, Sei—then I fall with you.

“Speak, and make your explanation a very good one, or we may yet see what happens when the mind dies.”

[Silence Sei]

He could feel the chill of the cold metal all around him; his eyes were slightly blinded by the glimmer of the pristine objects before him. The mute took a heavy gulp, having to choose his words wisely in this situation. It was true that Sei was the Reaver of Nanaebreth, the Raiaera Reaper. He had been responsible for the deaths of hundreds that night, and thousands the following week. The Mystic remembered hearing the rumors in Raiaera following the slaughter; Thoracis had become a Bastard, and Sei a Reaver over the course of one night. What the whispers in the wind failed to make mention of, however, was the strategy that Sei had employed before the execution of innocents was taken out.

It was now time for Sei to show Elrundir the truth behind all of the hearsay, though the mute had to fight the urge to taunt his friend. He wanted to tell him that they both knew such an empty gesture was meaningless; Mystic Protection would have prevented a single weapon from touching him. He wanted to goad the elf into an attack, only to stop his friend dead in his tracks, showcasing the telepath's superiority over Elrundir in the latters own mind. His own intolerance for the people of Raiaera seemed to be rushing to the front of the young mute's mind. Those self-proclaimed 'High Elf' in all their narcissistic glory as they banished their darker-toned past the dangerous red forest for something as trivial as being different? Sei could see the similarities between the two elven races of Althanas, and the two different magics of the Mystics.

How dare Elrundir make a spectacle of them both right now, when things were at their worst?! Sei could feel the rage rising to the surface, his fists clenched in anger from just helping his friend. He had not felt this way in a long time, so long that it caused something to click into the head of the mute.

This was not him.

Sei closed his eyes, concentrating hard as he looked past his friend. Raising his hand above his body, careful to not prick himself on any of the blades surrounding him, Sei concentrated as hard as he could. This was the domain of the mind, his specialty, and he would be damned if he allowed anybody, Forgotten or not, to not allow him at least some sliver of control while possessing one's thoughts. The weapons around the Mystic began to melt away, the ground beneath them turning to a beaten dirt trail. Behind Elrundir stood a group of citizens and precisely five cloaked men. The roars of discourse could be heard from the citizens, which resembled some sort of lynch mob.

"We aren't moving from this place," the head of the group, a tall elf with crimson long hair and a sword at his side, "we have lived here all of our lives, and we will not relinquish this place to the likes of you."

"I assure you, your homes will not be ransacked," the familiar voice crept into the minds of the elves, though given the current location of the 'true' Sei and Elrundir, the words were clear as common speak, "My men have an order to let anyone who wishes to leave in peace do so. We do not wish to cause bloodshed if we can avoid it. We simply want equality among the Dark Elves and High Elves, something I would think is not too much to ask. I came with such a small regiment in hopes of engaging in talks of tolerance and armistice with your people. My superiors do not see things as I do, and would rather see things come to a clash of the swords."

"Is that a threat?" The self-appointed leader asked to various hoorahs from his company, "We here at Nanaebreth don't take kindly to threats. You're lucky we let you off with what we gave you." His voice had a condescending tone in it, but seemed to cause the head of the cloaked figures to take off the hood to his cloth.

His face was not recognizable as Sei Orlouge, his cheeks had swollen up, both of his eyes had been darkened by beatings, and dried blue blood still seemed to be caked upon his features. A closer investigation would reveal that none of the others in the Mystic's company were even slightly injured; Sei had taken all of the lynching in order to make sure his handful of Dark Elves did not suffer the same fate. The mute coughed a few times, all of the robed figures around him stepping towards his form as if they needed to carry him.

"I will...inform Lord Thoracis of your unfortunate decision, Mikali Rosenthorn. You will have until midnight to consider my offer still, but I cannot still the hands of Alerar for any longer than that....please get out while you still can." Sei's 'tone' had shifted at the plead, sounding similar to someone who knew of the fate to come to the elves. There was sadness in his words, filled with regret over something that he did not wish to do. Sei turned around, the rest of his men following his lead, and they walked back down the beaten path that would lead to their camp.

This time, the room did not grow dark to shift scenarios once more, Sei's hand was trembling, and the laughter of Podë had become clear as a bell, but now the hysterics were racked with absolute fear. The Forgotten One was realizing that Sei could control aspects of the mind, and was using all the power he possessed in order to do so. What was previously a dirt road instantly transmitted to the edge of a bluff overlooking Nanaebreth, the 'olde' Sei was standing on the bluff, tears streaming from his eyes as he watched the heard second-long screaming before a deathly quiet. The chill of the wind sent a shiver down his spine, and he did not even acknowledge the presence of Thoracis as he approached behind him.

"It...is like you said, Sei," Thoracis commented, "Alerar had to do this for the good of the country. We are just trying to reclaim our home."

"I warned them, My Lord," Sei turned around, his eyes still flowing with the clear tears of regret, though the eyes of Thoracis still seemed to hold that steely glare they always did, "I went down there hours before I told you the plan and warned them all to leave. I wanted to avoid any bloodshed, even if it meant giving away our location to the enemy. They....they didn't listen to me, and because I was too weak to convince them, I must now shoulder all their deaths on my back!" Sei turned back to the carnage below.

"I know..." Thoracis' revelation came as no surprise to the mute either, "I hoped you could convince them otherwise. Sei, we all must don masks against our will, sometimes for longer periods than we would like to..." Thoracis seemed to trail off for a moment, the silence between them speaking in sheer volumes about the respect each had for one another.

"Sei," Thoracis spoke after several minutes, "You are relieved of your duties. I no longer require your services." Sei turned to his commanding officer, finally taken by surprise. "Sei, this life, this war is not for you. I cannot in good conscious allow you to stay in my company when I know what it’s doing to your heart. Before you know it, you'll be as cold and heartless as me..."

Sei wanted to speak out, his mouth opened slightly as if to protest his words, but all he could do was nod and then turned back to the village. They stood on the calming bluff until the sun overtook the night sky. Within a few hours, Sei would disappear from the Alerar Armed Forces to pursue a new type of life within the confines of Corone. By this point, the 'true' Sei's whole body was trembling, the Forgotten Wench whispering messages of hate to both he and Elrundir as his hand still stood out, wishing to show his friend one last image before he could rest his powers temporarily.

Darkness overtook them once more, but the blackness was a wanted addition for the mute. Sei and Elrundir stood in the one place Sei had never shown another soul. Deep behind an enclave of trees within Radasanth, the mute and his ally were surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of headstones. The real Sei motioned his head towards the east, where Elrundir's eyes quickly followed. On the ground stood the younger Sei, digging another unmarked grave with naught but his bare hands. The names on each of the headstones seemed to be carved in with some sort of blade. The smell of fresh dirt could indicate that the youthful Sei had been at this for more than one grave tonight. When the mute felt fulfilled in digging the grave deep enough, he grabbed something upon the ground, an azure blade that seemed to sparkle with unparallel clarity. The mute placed the blade into the hole, climbing out in exchange for the weapon. The telepath then grabbed his Gemini Blades, and slowly carved the name 'Mikali Rosenthorn' into the granite stone. When he finished filling the hole, Sei remained on his knees to give a short prayer for the dead.

The image shattered before the two warriors, Sei's form collapsing on to the ground. Breathing heavily, the mute looked up at his friend, a stream of blue running down the telepath's nose and dripping upon the ground. This was a reflection of the Mystic's body, and the toll that fighting for control over those images had on him. His eyes seemed pleading for the elf to make a decision one way or the other. Between bated breaths, Sei finally spoke once more.

"So.....what shall....you do....my friend?"

[Elrundir]

When the hurricane of visions and images faded, returning Elrundir and Sei to the safety of the canopy, Elrundir felt more chaotic than he could remember ever in his many long years. Sei was on the floor, but the elf could not yet bring himself to help him up. He was the man responsible for the slaughter of thousands of innocents in the heart of the Raiaeran homeland, many of whom had never so much as seen a dark elf, let alone taken up arms against one!

He allowed his rage to boil over once more. “Fool of a man!” he bellowed, his voice hot with anger and cold with disdain. “Fool of a human! Fool of a child!” Rouge took to the air, startled by his sudden outburst, and circled restlessly around the room. Below her, the mental guardians kept their weapons trained on Sei, each as still and dutiful as a statue. They would not take a single step toward the fallen Mystic if Elrundir did not will it; the fact that they had not, at least, must have been a good sign.

“Is that what you thought? That my people drove the dark elves from our homeland out of prejudice and hatred?” Elrundir slammed his fists down on the balcony’s railing. He was unable to look at Sei just then; there was a dark and angry part of him that wanted to see the whole world burn, even the beautiful and pristine autumn forest spread out below him in all directions. That should have frightened him, but his rage had consumed him.

But he did whirl around, then, and took an angry step toward Sei. “What would you know of the Elven Schism, you whose greatest grandparents were not yet a twinkling in the night sky? And why would you think the Bastard knew any better? A vagabond, a wanderer, a human?

“It was a time of change for my people! The ways we had known for millennia had been shattered, sealed away forever! How could we all have agreed on one united way of facing a new world without the Eternal Tap? Those who disagreed with the continued practice of magic faded into the west, and so Alerar was born.”

It was true that animosity between the two peoples were high at that time. None could deny that, any more than they could deny the high elves’ stereotypical arrogance toward the ‘lesser’ races. But to think that his people could stand accused of driving away their own kin simply because of… prejudice! The ancestors of the dark elves had no more wish to coexist with the surviving bards than the bards themselves did! How long ago had this simple truth been forgotten? How many times had this new version of the story been twisted in the retelling, used to justify centuries upon centuries of aggression? How many thousands—how many millions—of people lost their lives because of…

Elrundir sank to his knees, laid low by the thought. He felt the urge to wipe at his cheek, and sucked in a shocked breath when his hand came back wet. How long had it been since his tears had fallen so freely? How long since they had fallen at all? “Is this… why my people had to die? Is it why they have been dying at the hands of the dark elves for centuries without end? Because of a… a lie?”

The incredulousness of the very thought hit him like a hammer, and he found himself laughing, even as the tears continued to fall. An entire history of hatred existed between his people and the dark elves, and what was it based on? It built itself up and up and up as their many wars have continued, but if one followed those twisted vines to their root, one would find the seed of a lie. How impossibly moronic! How despairingly stupid!

Not certain anymore whether he was laughing or crying, Elrundir pushed himself to his feet. Rouge alighted on his shoulder once more, warbling uncertainly. She skittered from side to side, her gaze shifting between her master and his companion, even as the mental guardians sheathed their weapons and one of them reached out to help Sei up. Elrundir remained silent a long while, his expression an unreadable and chaotic mix.

“My people deserve their retribution, Sei,” he said at last. His voice was calm like the air after a fierce storm. “We may be many things, but we are not bloodthirsty, whatever the Bastard may have once led you to believe. In her wisdom Selana has shown me that your death would not bring them peace.” Elrundir reached up to gently trace a finger up and down Rouge’s throat; the cardinal warbled happily. “Just remember that they died for a lie. They died innocent of a crime that had never been committed in the first place. Remember that.”

Perhaps there was someone whose death would bring the people of Nenaebreth their much-deserved rest. It might be the Bastard of Alerar, or perhaps General Vordutin himself. But not the foolish child who had believed the lies which he’d been fed. Maybe the dark elves truly believed those lies now… but that was a problem for another day.

“The darkness recedes,” he pointed out as he returned to the edge of the balcony. Off in the distance, growing out of that black wall like a cancer, was a keep of twisted grey stone. It was all edges and hard angles with ugly stone creatures clinging to the walls and ledges. They made gargoyles look pretty. “Do you see it? Podë’s own stronghold, rising in dark mockery of my own. How I long to see it laid low, and her with it.

“Let us go.” He beckoned for Sei to join him, and the mental guardians formed ranks behind them, hands on their hilts. “It is time we reminded my unwanted guest of her rightful place.”

[Silence Sei]

Sei wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at Elrundir about how magic and technology could have co-existed, wanted to shout to the heavens about how the self-proclaimed ‘High Elf’ would not even ask its brother to stay in the country. While the two races had gone their separate ways by choice, all it could have taken was a word from one of them to have stopped the other. In the mute’s mind, Raiaeran elves were guilty enough for their silence, and that in and of itself was just as bad as if the whimsical mages had casted out the Dark Elves themselves.

But this was not the time for arguing semantics. This was a time for fighting the common enemy, a time for freeing Elrundir. After all was said and done, the two could discuss at length the views they held for one another’s favored continents. Sei looked to the tower of Pode, chills shooting down his spine, recalling the mute’s quelling of the Yellow Lily Bandits from their own massive building.

The stone creatures that hung at the walls were vicious looking indeed, made of what appeared to be pure granite, with claws the length of an average man’s forearm. As Sei looked at the décor, however, his eyes grew wide as the dual beasts seemingly melded into the gate, disappearing completely. When the things vanished, Pode’s laughter echoed from within the tower, resonating outside to the two warriors. It was then that Sei realized that the guardians of the gate were exactly that; guardians.

A loud roar boomed out from behind the mute, and Sei jumped forward almost as soon as it caught his ears. Looking towards the location of the roar, Sei heard another, different kind of thunderous clap, and watched as the stone beast rematerialized on the ground where the mute had previously stood. Now the mute had a better look at the grizzly face of the creature, darkened brown stone around the eyes, with rocky teeth that was surely able to tear a man to shreds in seconds.

Sei gripped the center of his chest suddenly, the feeling of being hit by a club now throbbing at the mute’s center. The monster before him growled once more and leapt at the mute, its claws retracting a bit while the creature soared through the air. Sei jumped to his side in reaction, rolling on the ground away from the strange demon spawn. Another loud booming sound, followed by what sounded like stone caving in on itself. Sei looked back to the walls of Pode’s abode, the very stone foundation of the tower now holding quite the sizable hole in it. Specks of gravel were falling from above where the hole had formed, almost as if something had punched through the thing.

“The claw…” Sei thought aloud (though being in another’s mind still, any thought was technically thinking aloud), “it delivers a blow so powerful it makes a shockwave…” Sei was in awe of this ability, it explained how his chest had been bruised, and even justified the hole in the wall. One thing was for certain; a direct hit from one of those claws was a death sentence. The creature disappeared again, and Sei swallowed hard.

“Elrundir…” Sei spoke loudly, in case the elf had managed to come across the other creature, “I think we may have found Pode’s personal bodyguards….”

[Elrundir]

Elrundir had never seen creatures quite like this before. The stone beast before him was smaller than a man, but on all fours it stood about the size of a large dog. It had thick, muscular limbs and thin, sharp scales of stone that he supposed must have been akin to long bristles of hair. If he didn’t know better, he would have called this creature a badger, but it was larger and had a temper that would shame a bear.

Sei appeared behind him, throwing himself out of the path of the other creature’s attacks. That was the twin of the one in front of Elrundir, and now the two circled their prey restlessly, growls deep and gravely in their throats. Elrundir’s ranks of mental guardians leapt into action one by one, baring steel against the monsters threatening the one who held their memories. They may have been frightening beasts, he thought, but they were sorely outnumbered.

Then the elf felt the ground shake in short rumbles, and he heard small, quick thuds all around him. Turning his head to scan the surroundings, he noted shapeless masses of rock that had fallen to the ground all around them like little meteors. At first he thought they were simply shards of the tower that had been shaken free by the first monster’s attack, and that they had been spared a crushing death by good fortune alone, but then the stones started to move.

They did not rise so much as they unfurled, wing after wing after wing peeling away to reveal vaguely humanoid creatures with featureless faces and long narrow crab-like claws. Somehow, the creatures let out high thin screeches and took to the air, the flapping of their four or five or six pairs of wings heavy in the forest air. A strange stench followed as their flaps stirred the air, like mud mixed with gravel on the day after a heavy rainfall.

The winged creatures swooped into battle with the mental guardians instantly, and Elrundir realized that there would be no help for him and Sei. The elf began to sing, and just in time: the monster before him let out a growl and leapt forward, slashing at the air just as he melted into shadow and slithered behind it. The resulting shockwave toppled a tree on the opposite end of the clearing, sending strange four-winged birds reeling into the sky amid startled shrieks.

When Elrundir reformed, the melancholy notes of his nocturne wove threads of shadow before him. One thrust out toward the monster while the others slithered around it, adding infinitely complex definition; the spear of shadow took only a second to create, and then he launched it at the monster, taking a chunk out of its right hind leg. It snarled and snapped at the air, but the way it turned to face him suggested that pain was not an issue for the beast. That was problematic.

He prepared to shift again, but his singing was momentarily distracted by the screech of one of the winged monstrosities to his right. The thing must have defeated one of his guardians—he would probably never know who, as the person may as well never have existed—and was now turning its attention on him.

But just then, a more familiar screech rent the air. Rouge descended like a red comet, flapping her wings furiously to interpose herself between her master and his new assailant. Then, suddenly, her ghostly visage encased her, pouring out from the depths of her soul in the form of a blue-robed sorceress. The sorceress’ hands moved while Rouge’s wings flapped, and bursts of blue energy erupted like gunshots on the winged beast’s stony skin. Chunks of rock flew in all directions. One of its wings detached, then another, and another; then one narrow claw, and then the whole opposite arm. The creature fell to the ground heavily and smashed itself against the hard-packed earth. That mud-gravel scent poured forth.

That moment of distraction still proved too much. Elrundir was suddenly pounced by his own beast, and he was just able to thrust his mythril staff into the crook of the creature’s jaw to keep himself from being mauled. Unable to compose himself enough to sing, Elrundir let out a burst of raw mental energy instead, throwing the monster slightly into the air and taking a deep chunk out of its midsection. A familiar muddy scent washed over him, quickly ignored. Another burst hit it from its left side, this one from Rouge, throwing it to Elrundir’s left. It rolled along the ground snarling as Elrundir got to his feet; the spectral Rouge glided off into the melee to find another target.

These monsters are too resilient by half. Chipping away at them was a recipe for nothing more than getting himself and Sei killed. Chunks had been taken out of the badger, three large ones, and yet it was still moving with such grace that it might never have been touched.

And then it came to him. They were, after all, only stone, and so...

The words poured from his mouth like the bitter wind of a cold winter’s day. The air temperature dropped, though neither the stone beasts nor the mental guardians took any note. Elrundir’s predator did growl, though, and it began to advance, this time at a slower pace. Then something happened. It seemed confused. It paused to examine itself, but there was no way that it could see what was happening now.

Ice was creeping through the beast’s innards, pushed onward by Elrundir’s voice. It was that muddy scent that tipped him off: there must have been some water in these creatures, as in the winged ones now fighting his guardians. It was a simple matter to freeze that water, and when he did...

Suddenly the monster made a strange sound, punctuated by the rippling crack of fissures forming across the surface of stone. The rest happened all at once: the monster exploded outward in a shower of stone chunks, many of them pelting Elrundir and anyone else nearby. That would leave bruises, but better bruises than chunks of missing flesh.

But one victory was small in the face of the great melee that now embroiled them. Elrundir shifted from one song to the next and rained death upon his enemies.

[Silence Sei]

Elrundir’s advantage had left them, replaced by the thick smell of mud and the cool chill of a temperature drop. While matters of the mind were not uncommon for Sei, the ferocity, the sheer scale of his friend’s mind was something that put the mute in awe. While he had wished that he could reflect on the elf’s mind longer, Sei’s attention was jarred elsewhere with the sound of yet another vicious growl.

The creature had watched its brother blown to shreds, accepted the fact that Elrundir was the stronger creature between them. These animals were not dumb, and it was for that reason that this stone monstrosity leapt towards Sei, the weakened prey, once more. The mute once again attempted to shift his body towards the monsters left, his own right. His dodge was cut short as the sharp claw of the beast ran through the telepath’s right arm, ripping downwards to a chorus of torn muscles and snapped bones.

The pain was absolutely indescribable. Both of his pale hands dropped their weapons, his left out of pain and his right no longer having the capacity to move on its own. Sei let out a shriek that would cause banshee’s envy, and even that gesture did not seem like enough to justify what his mental body was feeling. When the beast landed on top of the Mystic’s form, Sei was completely paralyzed. His chest was still throbbing, his lungs incapable of taking in air due to the horror now mounted atop him. The beast was as heavy as fifty grown men, its claw pawing at the useless limb swimming in a pool of azure blood.

Was it toying with him? Prolonging the torture of the Mystic? Was this the punishment one received for attempting to defy Pode? As Sei felt the hot breath of the creature upon his cheeks, a form of taunting since the warrior could not breathe, he closed his eyes as waited for the inevitable. He could feel more heat, the heat coming from an open mouth; hear the wind as it whistled through the teeth of the stone badger. This would end Sei’s mental avatar, and as a result, leave him as either a paralyzed fool, or a corpse in the physical world. An end that nobody would be around to see, that nobody would remember.

Sei opened his eyes as he felt sludge of sorts splatter against his face. His lungs quickly took in all of the air it could muster, exhaling just as fast. His blue orbs tried to focus, but he could hardly see anything but blackness. Sei did not know whether this was from his blood loss (which was making the room spin) or the fact that he was on the verge of passing out. When his hearing returned, he could hear the righteous bellows of Elrundir close by. His eyes began to focus a little more clearly to see the lithe elf’s body in front of him, singing a crescendo of attacks to keep the winged birds from attacking the weakened Mystic.

“Elrundir….” Speaking seemed so hard to do. His head throbbed with each breath he took. Sei was certain that he was losing too much blood. The Mystic reached out, attempting to find the handle to his Gemini Blades. If he wanted to continue the fight, Sei was certain of two things. “Elrundir….I need to cut off the rest of my arm.”

He swallowed hard. Sei had fought with one arm for many years in the past. It was the next part that he was going to have trouble with. “Once I cut it off, I need to cauterize the wound….do you know any fire spells….?”