"Something has to be incomplete in our life to make us understand life." - Avijeet Das

The tree branches fly past - each grabbing a piece of my soul until I can take it no more. Pausing, I put my hands on my knees and slowly exhale, but the forest quiet fails to settle in my heart.

With every step away from Aedan, it feels like I am losing an irretrievable part of myself. By now he will most definitely feel the same chasm that has swallowed me. He will however have no idea where his despair is originating from. This will be worsened thousand fold when he can't find and discuss it with me.

Even though it has only been two days, it is the longest we have ever spent apart. The thought of the time between continuing to grow until this feeling of incompleteness turns into us being our own complete persons, saddens me beyond any description.

The chirps of birds slowly push my thoughts into order.

Every elf in ArBrae will be on the lookout for me. There is no way that I will be able to leave the forest on foot. Even the rivers will be packed with lookouts.

There is one way out. A chill passes down my spine.

Aedan would hate this idea. I'm not even sure that I think it is a sane one.

ArBrae is the heart of ligtland's water supply. It has arteries of streams - both above and underground, that feed a large part of the country. And many of the underground streams resurface outside the forest.

I am staking my life on this fact: no-one has ever tried to leave the forest that way, but in theory it should be possible to use those streams to leave ArBrae unnoticed.

Aedan and I discovered quite a few of the entrances to the underground water network lurking beneath the forest. We've never tried them. There is a very thin line between exploring and certain death, and we, the Darkwood-twins, pride ourselves on the fact that we possess the wisdom of common knowledge. It would also be impossible to convince Aedan to go into any tight spaces. He barely survived tbe trip to the Mountains that other year. He didn't stop complaining for months afterwards.

Within no time I find a portal to the dark forest. Peering into the unknown, I can imagine countless deaths awaiting me.

The Dark Forest's streams are uncharted and fabled. There are very few accounts detailing the exotic and unnamed plants found beneath the forest of ArBrae. And elves, being the children of the Sun would never wander too far from the light.

I secure my satchel to my back and tightly strap my scabbard to my waist. With a determined rip, I tear my dress shorter. Using some of this material, I secure my sword to its scabbard. Another strip is used to bundle and tie my arrows together. Even though my weapons will most likely drag me down, I cannot afford to lose them. Without them, I have no chance of survival or building a life from nothing.

With no idea how the underground rivers flow, how long I will be submerged or where I will emerge, I know that I do not possess the strength to keep afloat by myself for an indeterminate period of time.

The sturdy branch hanging somewhat loosely from a nearby tree demands my attention. With a few quick strokes of my dagger, I sever it completely before removing all of its side branches. After tying my dagger to its scabbard, and also securing them to my waist, I tie my hair in a knot and inspect the branch. Being just slightly shorter than I am, it is still a sturdy and dependable branch.

Untying my cloak, I struggle to think of a way to safely secure it to me. Even though it is water resistant, the sheer might and power of the water I will encounter will overpower its qualities and drag me down. Not wanting to leave it behind, I wound it around the log and tie it with the last piece of material. It will help to make my journey slightly more comfortable - if it doesn't cause my death. It is strange how I now think of a cloak that once belonged to the Second One as my own, refusing to leave it behind even though it's presence endangers my life.

Finally ready, I recheck everything and drag my branch closer to the underground entrance. Placing my feet on both sides of the hole, I peer into the darkness once more before grabbing my branch and letting my feet slide of the edges.

Light turns into darkness, warmth into cold. As my descent stretches, fear grips my heart.

What if I made a huge calculation error in taking this way out? What if this entrance was just a split in the earth leading nowhere?

Please, even on Khairrim Cadeyrn, don't let me die today!

Like an answered prayer, my feet hit a cold malleable surface. With no time to keep my breath, water rushes into my mouth and nose. Unable to let go of my branch and swim, I disappear into a watery grave.

As more water rush towards my lungs, a splitting headache, like a cage trying to contain a monster takes hold of me. Fighting against whatever my mind is trying to tell me, I start to propel my self up with my legs.

As my head finally breaks the surface, an image of a waterfall filled with life, surrounded by the fear of death pops into my head, but is quickly replaced by the dark of my surroundings. As the sweet air fills my lungs yet again, I splutter and cough and mutter a Thank the Council.

The water thunders and mauls at me for hours without cease. The fine balance between the cloak dragging me down and the log keeping me afloat gets tipped whenever the current hastens, forcing me to kick furiously until I reach the surface.

Every so often I think: This is it. This is when I die. But, by the Council's grace, I live through every moment of darkness and fear.

Having no idea of where the water is taking me, the only thing that allows me to picture my surroundings is the echo of water changing as I pass through different caves and tunnels.

Hunger pangs start to gnaw at my stomach - at first faint and discreet, growing amd growing, until I am unable to think of anything other than food and a warm bed. But, the water continues and so must I.

Finally, being beyond despair, not being able to feel any part of my freezing body and as dizzy as a sunrise from fatigue and hunger, I crash into something.

At first my log attempts to go under, but I hinder its progress and get smashed against the cold stone again and again. With my last ounce of strength, I grab the log tighter and disappear under the water. My head continuously slams against the stone, but with no air to breathe time looses all meaning and effect.

After being thrusted even deeper into the water, I feel the water descending. I start to panic as my lungs start to burn. Just as I think I am done with life, the water propels me forward into a blinding light. Instinctively sucking in air, my joy only lasts a moment before my log gets wrestled from my grip and I tumble down into a pool below, being beaten by the pouring water.

Author's note: 10 May 2021

Please note that this book has recently had a cover and title change.

The Chronicles of the Council Book 2: The Moon's Sorrow is now titled...

The Chronicles of the Council Book 2: Those Forged From Fire