Valyn stood observing the grand doors that led to the outside world. Ice covered the edge of the doors, leaving a gaping middle between the them. Dimming sunlight peered through the entrance as the sun began to disappear behind the blue sea. Chunks and shatters of ice littered the floor, lying frozen and blue, unmelted. Valyn bent over and picked up a piece. It was as large as his finger and shaped like a tooth. To this day, his magic still fascinated him. His ice had never melted, plenty of pieces like the one he examined still remained scattered throughout Valadel. He was happy ice was his magic, compared to his uncle's fire and Aryanne's light. It was a finer, more focused element, unlike the passionate rage of fire, or the blinding fury of healing light. He twirled the problem piece of ice with his fingers, and it broke in half as he did so. Annoyed, he dropped the two pieces of ice to the floor as his uncle approached him.

"The Scrag has gotten through..." Tyren said grimly.

"Yes...my magic was not strong enough to hold him off." Said Valyn, wearing an expression of self doubt. He sighed, furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Not like his would've been."

Tyren sympathetically placed his hand on his nephews shoulder. "Listen Valyn, your magic is powerful and something to fear, most certainly. But you have got to rid yourself of this image you have of your father as this almighty, powerful godlike elvor. He was just like you and me, and I believe one day, you'll become stronger than he ever was."

"I know uncle. I know. It's just...if he were alive, I wouldn't want him to be disappointed in me..."

"Someone who isn't with us can't be disappointed, son. I assure you, he is resting in the Palace of Souls watching over you and your sister, filled to the brim with pride. An one day, you will meet him. But that day is quite a ways away."

"Thank you uncle." His expression softened, and he turned his stare back to the broken structure of ice. "Now...about the Scrag...he's out there, and he's stronger than ever. That thing we saw earlier...that wasn't the scrag I knew. Why is he so big, why is he so strong?"

Tyren shook his head. "Only the Gods know. I'm afraid I have no answers for you, Valyn."

"Does he frighten you?" Valyn asked.

"Everything frightens me, Valyn. That is why we are still alive."

Valyn took his words in slowly. He nodded in agreement, thinking of the many times caution had saved their lives. "Well uncle...to think we won't have to live in fear for much longer."

Tyren shook his head. "No, son...I'll always live in fear. Fear isn't the Scrag, its not the sword, or the bloodlust in the eyes of the man who wields it...it's a darkness. It's the unknown. It's not knowing what waits for you around the corner, its not knowing if your magic will be able when you most need it. It's not knowing if the meal you have first in your day will be your last. Fear is what caused our kind to perish so many years ago, and yet its what has kept us alive for so many years. That is its nature. Fear is not something that can be stopped, its not something a magic spell can wave away. It's a curse. A curse you must live with. And if you can come to bear this curse, well...at least that way...you'll have a candle in the dark."

Valyn pondered his uncle words, and wasn't entirely sure he agreed with his uncle. There were many times when he set aside his fear to achieve something, times when having fear would do him no good. But there were times when fear had saved his life. And there would be many more times when he would call fear a friend.

"The scrag..." he finally said "...do you think it possible to kill him?"

Tyren scoffed. "Anything can be killed, of that I'm sure. The only real question is how." He paused. "Lets head back to the refuge. Nightfall will soon be upon us. We'll continue searching tomorrow. I hope to the Gods your sister is safe."

Valyn laughed. "I hope to the Gods the man is safe. Aryanne can take care of herself."

Tyren smiled. "I suppose that is true. Come, lets go."

They ducked into their temporary refuge, greeted by the talkative scholar, Jazmyn and the warrior Cristomir.

"Have you seen Gallador and the others?" She asked.

"Last I saw them, they were headed to the feasting hall." Said Tyren.

"We've had no luck finding Aryanne or the other man. And no encounters with the cursed ones either." Said Valyn.

"Good. There can only be so many..." Said Cristomir

Tyren nodded. "There numbers are dwindling. It should be expected, now that your army of men is here. My magic could only do so much these past years." He paused, as if searching for someone.

"Where is the half elf? I wish to speak with him."

"To your right," she nodded in the direction, "he's been rather quiet."

Tyren nodded. "I'll make him talk." He placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Valyn, why don't you chat with lady Jazmyn. I'm sure she's eager."

Valyn shot his uncle a subtle, sour expression. He plopped down in between the warrior and the scholar, ready to answer any and all her questions. Tyren softly smiled and left to meet Gabrielen.

The half-elf was sitting in the corner, rummaging through an old book. Pages crumbled and broke as he flipped through it, resulting in his curses.

"The books have become all but unreadable at this point, kinsman."

The shaggy haired warrior looked up from his book. "Tyren...how are things?"

"Could be better. Much better, in fact. But there are other matters I wish to discuss than my state of being."

"As?"Gabrielen inquired.

"As the apparent survival of our race, besides me and my family."

Gabrielen sighed. "I'm sorry, Tyren, I wish I had the answers you seek but my life offers no answer to my own questions. I have never seen a living elf on the surface, nor did I even know I had elven blood. I wish I could tell you there was some sacred fortress or hidden family of elves, but I can't. There may be, but I don't know."

Tyren nodded. "I understand. Perhaps once we reach Dahnayael, we can search for those who you would call your ancestors."

Gabrielen raised his eyebrow. "Dahnayael?"

Tyren's own eyebrows were raised as well. "Dahnayael is the land of which my family descends from. But of course, I'm sure it has since been renamed. It is the area this kingdom once resided in."

"Oh...Jorden then."

"Sure," said Tyren.

"Well then...I'd lend you a hand in finding fellow elves...but as long as you help me find my mother."

The elvor scoffed. "Restoring my, no, our race, is more important than finding a woman who cared not for her child."

Gabrielen stood from his corner, hurt by the elf's words. "What do you know about my mother?" His tone was quiet but intense.

"Almost as much as you...which seems to be next to nothing," said Tyren.

Gabrielen was left without a retort, having been beaten. He slumped back into his corner, his expression molding from anger to sadness. Tyren realized his unnecessary and hurtful remark. He sighed.

"My apologies. I would like to help you, but more pressing matters demand my attention. The survival of my children. Now please...any history and information you have would be welcome."

"I don't know anything, Tyren. Maybe my grandfather does, but he lives far in the forbidden lands."

"The forbidden lands?'

Gabrielen nodded. "It's this huge, uncharted region lying in the far north of Sylvetria. There are rumors as to who and what lives within the lands...and none of them are too friendly."

"Then...your grandfather is our first destination."

Gabrielen shrugged. "Sure, why in the abyss not."

Behind them, the sound of the bookcase leaving the ground was heard. Tyren disengaged from his conversation, jogging over to help lift the piece of their blockade. Gallador came through, followed by Miles and the other warriors. Last was that man Danticus, and then his niece.

"Uncle!" She exclaimed.

Aryanne and Tyren embraced, joined by Valyn. They stood there, absorbing the comfort of each other's company.

"You're alright? No wounds? No pangs?" Said Tyren.

She smiled and nodded. "Danticus took care of us. I'm okay."

Valyn smirked. "Figured it would've been the other way around."

Danticus himself smiled. "We did alright."

Gallador interrupted the teasing and pleasantries. "I'm glad we are all okay, believe me when I say that, but we cannot waste any time. Tyren, that monster, the scrag, can it be killed?"

"I pray so. I avoided the abomination the duration of our time down here like he was Jorik himself. It was skinny, deranged, weak...now it's some monstrous beast. Perhaps he can be killed, but it will be a tremendous effort."

Tytus nodded. "Indeed."

"We need a plan, a strategy, something that will guarantee us our victory."

"Be sure not to leave out the cursed ones in that strategy of yours," Said Valyn.

Gallador nodded. "A fair observation." He thought for seconds, pondering his options. He finally dropped to his knees, unsheathing his dagger. He ran the blade along the floor, creating a square shape.

"This is the entrance. We will attack him there."

"And what if he's not there?" Said Cristomir.

"We lure him."

Tyren scoffed. "Good luck getting someone to do that job."

"I'll do it," said Gabrielen.

Gallador stared at him with a cocked head. "You sure you wish to have that duty? That beast is unlike anything you've seen before."

Gabrielen shrugged. "I'm used to being chased down by crazy, angry people."

"I won't ask why...but if that's your wish then so be it. Now, here's what I'm thinking." He carved an x in the ground. "Tyren, you and your nephew will stay back here, doing your magic and attacking from a distance...do some damage from far away, where you won't be at risk." He paused and brought the point of the dagger of his chin. "Danticus, how many arrows have you left?"

"Seven...two with wooden tips."

Gallador nodded. "Use them wisely. Pierce his skull, blind him, distract him, do what you need to do. Once you're out, get up close with your sword."

Danticus nodded. "I'd love too."

"Right then. Cristomir, Tytus and I will form a triangular shape, attacking the Scrag from different directions and divert his focus. Miles, Aryanne and Gabrielen, you will hold off the perimeter. Keep those cursed ones off of us."

"No, Aryanne will stay here," said Tyrel.

"Uncle, I can help. My light magic can-"

"Aryanne, I'd feel more comfortable if you remained here," said Tyren.

"But uncle, if you'd let me-"

"Enough, Aryanne, my final answer is no! You are too valuable to put at risk. Do not ask me again."

She sighed. "Fine."

"Wait, Gallador, what am I supposed to do?" Jazmyn asked.

"Keep Aryanne company. Any more questions?"

Jazmyn crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. In truth, she didn't want to be part of the battle, but she'd rather be asked by Gallador to do something so she would feel somewhat useful. "I feel like I could be of some use, Gallador!"

"Maybe you and the Scrag could have a nice chat about where he came from, his ancestors, his favorite type of food while we stab him in the back with our swords," said Miles, a sarcastic smile twitching at his lips.

Gallador ignored the comment. "No questions then? Alright then...lets get down to work. We'll eat and rest for today, but we better be ready to fight tomorrow. How much food do we have left anyway?"

"If you factor out the rations of the dead," said Tytus, doing the calculations in his head, "enough for another five days."

"Good. Eat enough to supply your energy. We may not be back in Jorden by tomorrow, so don't indulge. Go ahead and rest easy now."

The war council disbanded. The elves went to one corner, Gallador, Tytus and Miles to another, and Cristomir reunited with his cousin. They hugged.

"How was your time away?" Asked Cristomir.

"Not ideal...but enriching, to say the least," said Danticus.

"What makes you say that?"

Danticus hesitated to answer, but did so nonetheless. "Just...spending time with Aryanne and teaching her all about Jorden and our history was rather....fulfilling. Her enthusiasm was," he smiled and shook his head, "it was endearing."

Cristomir smiled. "She does seem quite nice. And attractive...but..."

"She's an elf," said Danticus.

"Right...that'd be strange. There's also the matter of Adelyn, waiting for your return."

Danticus nodded. "Indeed...well anyway," he was quick to change the topic, "are you sure we'll be able to take the Scrag? We can't get out of here if he's chasing us down and nipping at our heels like a rabid dog."

Cristomir shrugged. "Perhaps. It's going to be difficult...we may lose someone else but...we can do it. Our rangers are strong enough and the magic of the elves will surely be able to get the job done."

Danticus nodded slowly. "I suppose you've thought of Jenna while you've been here."

Cristomir nodded. "Every waking second, it seems. Gods, do I miss her, now so more than ever." He paused. "You don't realize what you have until it all seems to go away...or until you go away..."

Danticus could tell Cristomir's temporary death had affected him. He seemed saddened and lost. Maybe a part of him was in the heavens and the rest was left down here. He wish he could help his cousin, but nothing he could say or do would be able to ease whatever he felt. How do you comfort someone who has died?

Gallador strode over, a loaf of bread in one hand and a canteen of water in the other. "Come on, what are you, children? Do I have to tell when to eat and go to bed?"

Danticus chuckled, taking the bread in his hands. "Thank you, Gallador."

Gallador affectionately put his hand on his shoulder. "It's good to have you back son."

Danticus nodded and gave a faint smile. Gallador held his shoulder for a second more and let go.

"Well...eat up and get some rest. We must be at our best if we wish to kill that beast."

Danticus nodded and left to eat his food. He sat an old wooden chair, ripping apart the bread and slowly chewed it. It was somewhat stale, but food is food. After rinsing his mouth with a swig of water, Tytus came and took a seat by him.

"How are you?" He asked.

"I'm well. Better now."

"I imagine." Said Tytus. They both fell silent, trying to ignore asking the obvious question. Finally, Tytus sighed. "What was it like?"

"What?" Said Danticus.

Tytus hesitated. "Dying."

Danticus shrugged. "Honestly, it was rather cold...I didn't really feel it. I felt the first stab, but...not the last one."

"Did you...see the heavens? Or the Gods?" Asked Tytus.

"No...I wish I did. I just saw..." he shrugged. "Black."

"Well...if those elves are good for anything...I guess this is it. Bringing the dead back to life."

Danticus chuckled. "Indeed."

Tytus nodded. "Well, why don't you rest. It's dark out now. I'll wake you when it's time to head out."

Danticus nodded and Tytus left him. He fixed his cape to be his resting mat and laid down. Everyone else was preparing themselves for sleep as well. He wondered what they would dream about before he slowly drifted into his own.

*****

(Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! Sound off in the comments! Your feedback is always appreciated!)