The ancient trees of the Sentinel Forest rustled, the rich green leaves rippling like emerald waves as in the wind. Standing on a balcony with her slim-fingered hands grasping the crystalline railing, Ofeera stared out into the distant wasteland.
Eowyna was gone. Ofeera had known that something was wrong when she had gone to visit her sister and found their home to be entirely abandoned. Then, the Mage Council had called upon her identify a signature at scene of a murder, and she had recognized it to be unmistakably Theredoniel’s. She had known then that something must have happened to Eowyna, though she prayed that her sister would still be alive.
But the Eternal Father had instead collected his sister’s soul. And though it was a small comfort given everything that had transpired, in the very least, Ofeera knew that the corpse shambling at Theredoniel’s side, though a mockery of her sister’s life, was no longer a vessel for Eowyna’s soul. The Uncrowned King would not permit the Abyssal Ones to lay claim to woman who placed her faith in him as wholeheartedly as Eowyna did.
The same could not be said for Lucien though, and even she was not so blinded by love that she did not recognize what her beloved had become. Although they had fallen under an enchantment created by the mysterious elven woman her kinsmen reverentially referred as the Old One, Ofeera knew that when Lucien and Azarielle had been engaged in their mage duel, the darkness hovering over him was the presence of an Abyssal One.
And Azarielle…
Unbidden, the image of her dear friend surrounded by roaring flames and laughing wildly as the world around her became a sea of fire came to mind again, making her shiver. Azarielle had been gifted with great power, this she had always known. But she had not known just how destructive that power could be. She had not realized how terrifying Azarielle could be. The golden eyes that blazed like suns held no recognition, only a fierce joy as Azarielle let loose the reins on her power. In those moments when it seemed that they would all be burned to a crisp, Azarielle had been lost.
Luthien had tried to go to the young mage while Breaker had probably intended to kill her. As for herself, she had done nothing. In fact, she had done nothing at all once she had laid eyes upon Luthien, had simply stood by.
“No, that’s not true,” Ofeera murmured, bowing her head as she felt her eyes burn with shame. “I haven’t done anything at all.”
“There is nothing you can do for her right now, Lady,” a soft voice said from behind her. “She sleeps deeply, and your voice cannot reach her.”
As silent as the shadows cast by the hazy sun, Breaker came to stand beside her, the tendrils of his dark hair blowing about his face like smoke. He gently laid a slender, but powerful hand on her shoulder for a moment, before turning to face in the direction where Lucien and Theredoniel had gone.
Ofeera intended to thank the elf for his kind words, but instead, a torrent of words spilled from her lips “I have never done anything, Breaker! Prince Lucien was… I had recognized that he was slipping further and further away from the Eternal Father, but I turned a blind eye to it. I could have said something to someone and perhaps people would not have lost their lives… their souls! And then, I asked Prince Luthien to bring me along, but I have done nothing but hide like a little mouse?! And when we came into this forest, I let everyone else do all the fighting while I stood by… Azarielle, she expended so much power and that was why she lost control? I should have tried to call to her, but I didn’t. And now, she’s unconscious and… I have prayed to Abihayil for clarity, for strength, for his guidance, but he hasn’t answered me. Breaker… I…”
Ofeera realized that she was sobbing, and horrified, the young woman wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.
Breaker looked upon her silently as she cried, and after a while, the gray elf said, “My lady says that the Eternal Father has not answered you, but has he not given you guidelines in that Book of Proverbs you have read to me, and has he not given you a mind so that you can think? Perhaps your Eternal Father intends for you to come up with the answer yourself. The knight and I both seek an end to the life of the Defiler. The mage intends to stop the high elf. What is it that you intend to do?”
The young healer lifted her face to the elf with an expression of surprise, then, she let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, “Eowyna has always told me that I wait too long for ‘signs’. She would say to me, ‘There is not going to spires of golden flames randomly bursting forth from the ground every time you pray to the Eternal Father. If he hadn’t wanted us to think for ourselves, he wouldn’t have given us brains. The last time I spoke to her, she had decided that she was going to go help a sick village, though we didn’t know what manner of illness had struck the villagers…And now she’s gone. She’s gone!”
Unable to hold back the tears anymore, Ofeera covered her face with her hands and wept, for the loss of her sister, for the loss of the man she loved, and for herself. Slender but iron-hard arms enfolded her, and she found her face resting against a muscular chest. She could hear his heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears, and feel the warmth of his body all around her. Breaker spoke to her in a soft, lilting language that she could only half understand, but his voice was soothing, and she found herself gradually growing calmer.
* * * * *
“You need to rest, young man.”
Luthien started awake, reaching for his sword reflexively before his sleep-fogged mind registered who it was that spoke to him. The Old One walked slowly into the room, moving with a grace that any human dancer would envy despite her age. The passing of many ages were carved into her face, and her hair that was once golden was now a snowy white, pulled into a bun and held together by a simple wooden comb.
“My lady mage,” the young knight rose to his feet and bowed.
The ancient elf woman smiled, “I have heard tales of your noble Order, young one. The mighty paladin, Korbael Thewin, was said to have been a good friend of Lady Gwenevar. It is a privilege to see that his Order has flourished. Nevertheless, you need to get some sleep before you keel over.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I feel fine. I think I will stay here a bit longer.”
The old woman shook her head as she came to stand next to Luthien, “You and the young healer, the two of you will tire yourself out waiting for your friend to wake. She sleeps now to recover her strength, and she’ll not wake until her body has been rejuvenated. You needn’t worry for her though, she will be fine.”
Luthien glanced over at Azarielle. The mage lay upon a bed that was formed from a single piece of milky, translucent stone that was like ice to the touch. The Old One had commanded Hazuriel and his men to bring the young woman into this room and lay her upon the jade. And though he had been rather suspicious of their intentions, Ofeera had confirmed that this was good for the mage as it seemed to help cool the wildfire power coursing through her body.
“I’ll stay with her just a moment longer,” Luthien decided.
The Old One let out a long sigh and eased herself into a comfortable chair on the other side of the young mage, “As you will, young man, but only for a while longer. You will need your strength soon enough.”
Luthien looked at the old woman, “My lady, do you know why they came here? My… the servant and that elf?”
The old woman let out another sigh and shook her head, “Do you know what it is, the staff that the forsaken son of House Gwenevar has in his possession?”
“One of the Seven Great Staves, the Staff of Everstar was Lady Elucielle’s greatest weapon,” Luthien responded.
“Yes,” the old woman smoothed a wrinkled hand over her dress. “But it is more than just that. It is said that the seven Abyssal Ones were once the wing heralds who served Abihayil the Ancient One. Because they plotted to usurp the throne of the Ancient One, they were cast out of the Holy City and into the Infinite Abyss. And though the Abyssal Ones are bound to that plane, they were able to create a doorway between the planes and able transfer a portion of their terrible power into mortal vessels – the avatars. The seven paladins that served the Uncrowned King battled the seven avatars and defeated them. They were also able to close the door between the planes and prevent the power of the Abyssal Ones from flowing into this world. This story, I am sure you are familiar with.”
When Luthien nodded, the old woman shook her head a little and continued, “What you may not know is the method with which this was accomplished. In essence, they closed the doors and locked it – and the Seven Great Staves are the keys that unlock these doors. The Staff of Everstar is also the Keystaff of Acedia. The Archmages are the guardians of the keys to unlocking the doors to the Infinite Abyss.”
Luthien stared at the old woman in wordless horror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, “What… then…”
“They came here for the incantation to unleash the Keystaff’s full powers, and with it, they intend to create a new avatar.”
The chair that Luthien had been sitting on crashed to the floor as the young knight bolted to his feet, but before he could rush out, the old woman continued, “If they truly intend to unleash the powers of Acedia, they will likely head for Fallingstar. It was once another bastion for the mages of Aztur, but has since fallen into the hands of the servants of Abyssal Ones. Shiftingstar Spire is where you will find help. We are not the only ones that have survived in this cursed place, Shiftstar Spire houses thousands of survivors!”
“How many days to Fallingstar Spire?” the young knight demanded leaping to his feet.
“Five,” the old woman replied. “Remember, just as your friend slumbers, so the servant also needs rest. He too has used up much of his power.”
“Then we have to stop him now,” Luthien suddenly glanced back at Azarielle.
“We will keep her safe here,” the old woman replied. “I’ve not the power to lend you much strength beyond these trees, but here, in the Sentinel Grove, we are protected by an ancient power. You needn’t worry about your friend.”
* * * * *
Azarielle strolled through a garden filled with beautiful flowers whose intoxicating fragrance she breathed with every breath that she drew. But with every step that she took, she blighted the ground beneath her feet. Flowers shriveled and burst into flames, becoming little more than ashes as they touched the ground. Grass wilted and died away, revealing cracked, dry earth underneath.
She had once loved this garden, but now, it rejected her very existence. If she stayed here, this garden would die, leaving behind cursed earth from which not even a weed would spring. A laugh bubbled forth from her throat, a deep, melodious, but hollow sound, a man’s voice.
Another few steps, leaving behind a black and deadened trail behind her, and she came upon a pool. She looked into its still waters and saw a stranger’s face looking back at her. He was an elf in his prime, with hair the color of molten gold except for a bright red splash that went from his temple to his shoulder. His eyes were different in color, one the common elven green and other strange, metallic silver.
And, he was grievously wounded, having been struck in the chest by a powerful arcane explosion that had singed away flesh to reveal white bone beneath. The blow would have killed him if he were an ordinary elf, but the power of Acedia flowing through him kept him alive.
Ignoring the wound, she, or rather, he knelt down and placed his fingers into the water. The clear waters instantly became murky and started to bubble like a teapot.
“Are you intending to ruin my garden?” a voice that reminded him of a merrily running stream demanded, speaking in high elven.
“Elucielle,” he whispered the name softly.
The elven woman who stood in front of him was tall and willowy, with an ethereal beauty that made her seem like a creature not of this world. Like him, she was severely wounded, bleeding from several different places and barely able to stand up straight.
“Even though you’ve taken the White Moon jade out of the pool, the water is still as cold as snowmelt,” he said as he withdrew his fingers and got to his feet slowly.
“Will, I doubt I can mediate in it now,” Elucielle replied drily. The once serene and clear waters had become mass of churning black-green goop, and strange, terrifying shapes had started to take form within its depths.
He sighed, a sound that seemed to have come forth from deep within his heart, “You took care of everything yourself. I never understood why you didn’t have the gardeners at least to do the weeding for you. What a sight that was – the Great Lady Archamge digging like in the mud like a child and cursing at a spiny weed.” Something that might have been a smile curved his mouth.
“Do you think I am some simpering elf maiden?” Elucielle lifted her chin with indignation. “Besides, those royal gardeners you had tried to press upon me were a lot of buffoons. They’d have cut up these perfectly nice bushes into a unicorn, or something ridiculous like that.”
“But you are an elf maiden,” the smile on his face twisted something bitter. “Or rather, you are Elucielle the ice queen whose heart cannot be moved by mortal man. I thought you would have taken that idiot human knight for a lover by now.”
“The monkey holds me in great respect, as he should, and I believe that his case of stupidity is not entirely fatal. Beyond that, there has never been anything else between us,” she replied flippantly.
Then, the arrogant lines of her face softened and a sad smile touched her lips, “Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I had married. I might even not be entirely opposed to the idea of child bearing and rearing, though I would have never spoiled them rotten as my sister did.” She paused for a moment and shrugged, “But, I never loved a man to whom I could be wed.”
“Elucielle, I…” he began, but she held up her hand.
“Cyderiel, you are the father of my nieces and nephews and the husband of my sister,” she said. “Your wife and your children are praying even now for you to return.”
At that, he laughed, a sound that was like glass shattering, “Cyderiel Azturvar, it’s been a while since anyone has called me by that name. Hasn’t my esteemed father, His Majesty, the Sun King of Aztur, stricken it from the records yet, Archmage Elucielle?”
“The Uncrowned Prince has not,” she replied. “He still holds his hand out towards you.”
“Look around you, my dear Elucielle, do you see your Uncrowned Prince anywhere?” he asked, gesturing at the garden. Even in the short time that they spoke, the corruption that he spread by simply being had spread through the garden and festered. “This is what I am, the Avatar of Acedia! He holds his hand towards me… towards the incarnation of hopeless sorrow?” he threw back his head and laughed.
The sound echoed through the garden, growing louder and louder until it became like a hundred thousand damned souls crying out in despair. The ground shook and began to crack, the skies above turned pitch black as streaks of red-tinged lightning lanced through the sky, like a pulsating, ruptured vein.
He turned his face towards the sky, his hair whipping wildly in the wind as he spat out his hatred, his rage and his hopeless pain. The darkness coiled within him took the form of a shadowy dragon, consuming his body as it grew. The Avatar opened its great maw and howled, unleashing a blast of energy so powerful that it tore Elucielle’s body to shreds.
But the elven archmage faltered, but did not fall. She held her staff out her glowing staff in front of her and stood her ground. Blood splattered out of her parted lips and yet, her mouth moved as she began to sing.
In the roiling madness and darkness, her glowing staff shone as bright as the sun. And floating in the sea of screams, her voice was like a perfect, untainted pearl singing praises to the glory of the Eternal Father and the beauty of the world he created.
“Elucielle!” that small part of the Avatar that remained him screamed, a curse, a prayer. Unable to withstand the light, the Avatar spread its wings and hurled itself at her, annihilating everything that it touched.
“He has never withdrawn his hand, Cyedriel. He will never withdraw his hand,” she said simply. The jewel blazed so brightly that he was blinded. But for just a moment, he saw her face, radiant and shinning, and her smile, joyous and carefree. That was how she had looked, the first time he had met her. In the guise of a redheaded human mage, he had wandered through the garden of the mage school where she was a new apprentice.
“See you later, Red.”
His world exploded in a web of shinning gold light.
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