Aryanne Levell

Cael's Cave, the Blackrain Mountains

ARYANNE AWOKE FROM A DREAM, one similar to the dreams she'd had before. This time, she was lost in a vast sea of brown, grains of small pebbles the color beige flying about her in a fury. It was unbearably hot, and she was dripping in sweat. She was running from something, something evil, something she knew was dark and wicked. How she knew, she wasn't sure, but deep in her bones and far beneath her soul, she knew. She saw the figure again just before she startled awake. It was a mess of slimy black tentacles in the form of a man, floating in the air and eclipsing sunlight. When it struck, Aryanne awoke.

The cave floor wasn't comfortable by any means, but at least she was able to sleep. Gabrielen's grandfather Cael had given them furs to sleep on, which offered some comfort, but not enough to make Aryanne forget she slept on rough and rocky earth. She sat up and stretched, and sent streams of fire screaming through her body. She was sore as sore could be, and was inexplicably tired. Their journey was long and tiresome, the effects of which became more and more apparent with each restless night. These past few nights in the cave, Aryanne slept perhaps three hours a night, if she was lucky.

To her right, Valyn was still snoring gently. He spent most of his time sleeping after he finally came out of his coma, and would spend only a few hours awake when he did stir from his slumber. Aryanne was thankful he was finally free of his coma. She had her brother back, or a little bit of him at least, and she was thankful enough for that.

Seigfreid and Gabrielen weren't in their fur beds, so Aryanne assumed they were already awake and about somewhere. In this cave, it could be anywhere. The tunnels went deep into the mountain, or so Gabrielen had said. It was evident Gabrielens grandfather spent the past thousand years in this cave. Narrow wooden walkways covered the cave floor and huts of wood were erected and built to store all manner of things. Crude furniture and faded tapestries composed the decor. To the left of the cave was a small garden where Cael harvested potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, and gourds in a small patch of dirt. To the right was a small animal pen where two chickens clucked about quietly. There was a small little hatch of eggs there too. The place was surprisingly clean and well lit. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, and an earthy incense clung to the air like perfume to a maid. For some reason, Aryanne felt safe here. She liked this place. In some strange way, it reminded her of home. Not Valadel, necessarily. Valadel was an endless nightmare she was born into without any say, a place where a careless placement of the foot or a whisper just a hair too loud meant death.

Cael's cave didn't feel like Valadel. It was what a home should feel like. Truth be told, it reminded her of the way Danticus would speak of Jorden; a place that he loved, a place that he belonged, a place where he felt safe. Aryanne knew this place wasn't hers, but it was perhaps the last safe place for an elf to freely be themself. To her, that was home enough.

Just then, Gabrielen and Seigfreid emerged through the cave entrance, carrying pails of snow. Gabrielen caught her eye. "Good morning," he said in a sunny voice. Aryanne gave him and the pails of snow he carried a curious look. Gabrielen noticed, and shrugged his shoulders. "For water. When the snow melts, we'll have clean water to drink."

"I'm not sure how clean snow is," Seigfreid said tepidly. "But it's better than nothing. Isn't your grandfather an elf? Can't he conjure up some water for us or something?"

Gabrielen shook his head. "That's not how it works." He looked at Aryanne. "Or is it?"

Aryanne couldn't help but smile. "It's not, at least for me."

"Does he plan on coming out of his little room anytime soon?" Seigfreid asked with thin patience. "We've been here two days already, and he's hardly said a word to us."

"He's not used to visitors," Gabrielen said quietly. "I was the last visitor he had, and I haven't seen him in almost fifty years."

Seigfreid scoffed. "You're a terrible grandson."

That made Gabrielen frown. "My life has taken me many places since I've left. Unfortunately, here again wasn't one of them."

Seigfreid sat down in his bundle of furs and went to massage his calves. "Yes, well after traveling nearly a whole moon to find this Grandfather of yours, the least he could do is speak to us. And you could have warned us about those twisted wooden monstrosities out there."

"Those were new," Gabrielen said. "The wood was just a wood when I last left."

"Well, nothing says welcome home like having an army of twisted wooden tree creatures try their damnedest to kill you in the middle of a blizzard. You're lucky I'm still breathing, half-thing, or I'd have come back to haunt you."

Gabrielen smirked. "Would that be before or after your ghastly apparition floated about a maidens chambers while she bathed?"

Seigfreid chewed on that thought for a second. "After."

"Good man," Gabrielen said dryly.

Aryanne quickly tired of their banter. "When do you think your grandfather will finally see us?"

Gabrielen pressed his lips together. "I don't know. He's always been a strange man, even when I was younger. Sometimes I'd see him everyday for every meal, sometimes I'd go weeks without seeing him, and we lived here together, mind you. There isn't that much to do around here. If I'm being completely honest, he's not quite right."

"I'd imagine being the last of your kind and withdrawn to a cave will do that to you," Seigfreid chimed in.

Gabrielen shot him a look. "Not all of us were born with silver spoons in our mouths, Whitelocke."

"Silver spoons matter not when there's nothing to eat, half-thing. We're both here together aren't we? Eating from the same bowl of shit."

Aryanne was quick to cast away that image from her head. "Regardless, he has to come out sometime, doesn't he? I'd very much like to to speak with him."

"And you will soon enough, I promise. He'll have the answers you seek Aryanne."

A hook formed in Seigfreid's brow. "Answers to what exactly?"

Aryanne hadn't really thought about that. Most of her mind seemed to languish back in Valadel, and what didn't seemed to focus on just making it through the day as they traveled north. Now that they were here, perhaps she could finally consider the questions she had.

Gabrielen gave Aryanne a look that was almost encouraging in nature when she didn't answer right away. "Aryanne? Well?"

Aryanne let her thoughts settle before she spoke. "I want to know more about my people. I want to know more about the elves."

"Well, I can help you there," Seigfreid said as he crossed one ankle over the other. "A long time ago, elvenkind enslaved mankind. As you could imagine, that didn't sit well with the men of those days, so they revolted and drove elvenkind to extinction, or so they thought. That's what happened to your people, elf. They're dead."

Aryanne could have struck him across the face just then. Anger bubbled inside her like water boiling in a kettle, threatening to blow the lid off in a fit of steam and fury. She felt foolish for telling him her secrets all those nights ago back in Howlington. She even went as far as to think he was handsome. Of all the men she'd met this far, Seigfreid Whitelocke found his way under her skin more than most. He promised he'd be a better man, and yet here he was again saying the vilest things a man could say to someone.

"My people are not dead," Aryanne hissed. "There's more of us out there!"

"And how do you know that?" Seigfreid challenged.

Aryanne wasn't sure how she knew that, truth be told. It was a feeling she had. She and her brother couldn't be the last ones. There had to be more out there. There had to be others who survived man's revolution. If not...

"It's just a feeling I have," Aryanne said almost embarrassingly. "We can't be all that's left."

"I'm sure you're not, Aryanne," Gabrielen said gently. "My grandfather is still here all these years later, and I'm sure there's more. It's just a matter of finding them."

"And that's easier said than done," Seigfreid said as he picked something out of his teeth. "Look, elf, I'm only trying to spare you of heartbreak. For a thousand years, elves have been gone. We haven't found any out there because we killed them all, and that's not the fault of any man living today. A bunch of different sods and assholes saw to that a long time ago, elf and man alike."

"Must you always be a cunt, Whitelocke?" Gabrielen said viciously.

Seigfreid threw his head back in laughter. "Oh that's rich! Somehow, I'm the cunt for telling her the truth while you sit there and play the knight in shining armor, whispering sweet lies and falsehoods in her ear all day. I see through you, half-thing. You're a little snake trying to prove itself a hero. You're only calling me a cunt so that one day, you might be able to slither into hers."

Gabrielen grew a deep shade of red, and stormed over to the silvery haired man sitting in a makeshift bed made of furs. Seigfreid didn't move or budge, but rather sat there with a smile on his face, almost amused at Gabrielen's threatening advance.

Before Gabrielen had a chance to make good on his threat, the wooden door to Cael's chambers within the inner recesses of the cave blew open. Cael himself stood there, glowering with darkened eyes. Gabrielen froze in his tracks beneath his grandfather's stare, and Seigfreids smile vanished completely.

A thick silence settled over all of them.

"Grandfather," Gabrielen said quietly, shattering the silence like fragile glass. "I...it's good to see you." He looked away from Seigfreid, seemingly convinced now that the former ranger wasn't worth his anger.

"Gabrielen," Cael said distantly. "Do you still remember how to make redroot tea?"

The question seemed to have caught Gabrielen off guard. "Um, yes, I do. It was your favorite when I was growing up."

Cael nodded. "Would you do an old elvor a favor and brew me some?"

"Of course," Gabrielen said with a nod of his head. He shot Aryanne a look that seemed to say "I'm sorry", and then left with his grandfather, presumably to make redroot tea.

Aryanne was left alone with Seigfreid and Valyn, who snored gently in the corner. She wished so much that he would wake up. She knew he needed his rest, but she missed him, and she didn't want to be alone with Seigfreid.

Siegfried gave a loud sigh, almost as if he could hear Aryanne's thoughts. "I'm sorry, elf."

Aryanne let the apology flutter by her ear. "My name is Aryanne."

"I'm just telling you the way it is. That's how this world works. You're born, life is shit, and then you die. There's no such thing as happily-ever-afters. This is man's world, not the elves. There's no place for you here. The sooner you realize that, the better off you and your brother will be."

"This world belonged once to the elves. It can again."

Seigfreid rolled his eyes. "The whole world for just two people? That's a little unfair, don't you think?"

Aryanne scoweld. "Do not speak to me about what's unfair and what isn't. What's unfair is having your chance at life taken from you before you're even born. What's unfair is being blamed for the sins of a people only because you look like them. What's unfair is that men want me dead simply because I exist! You don't get to tell me what's fair and unfair. Men like you made the world this way!"

Seigfreid rose to his feet with heavy breath. "Men like me? You don't know a thing about me, elf! Men like me have no place in this world either. If you want to point a finger at anyone, point it at my father. I'm sure he and Jorik Freemane would have gotten along famously. I'm just as much an outsider as you are, elf."

"Oh please," Aryanned said incredulously. "You blame the world for problems you created. You're here with us now because of choices you made. The world didn't abandon you, you abandoned it. You said so yourself. You left those men in Valadel to die, and didn't expect them to return."

"I didn't tell you that just so you could throw it in my face, elf," Seigfreid spat.

Aryanne ignored him. "You never expected to face the consequences for your horrible actions. And when the world spat them back at you, you ran." Seigfreid opened his mouth to protest, but Aryanne pressed on. "You're a coward, Seigfreid Whitelocke. You're a coward and a bad man. No one will care you when you die."

Seigfreid turned to stone. He stared at Aryanne with those unrelenting blue eyes of his, eyes that betrayed nothing. Whatever was going through his head just then, his expression gave no indication. Aryanne felt just then that perhaps her words cut too deep. Seigfreid always had some dry remarks to make, some crude wit to retort, but now, he said nothing.

Seigfreid drew a heavy breath. "I hope you find the answers you're looking for, Aryanne."

Without another word, he turned and left through the maw of the cave, trudging down the side of the mountain, silent as the grave.

"Seigfreid," Aryanne called after him softly. She meant to be louder, but her heart wasn't in it. She didn't want to see him go, but perhaps it was best. He agreed to take them north to the mountains, and they were finally here. Plainly put, there was no more use for him. Still, Aryanne wished she could take back her words. Or no, actually, she didn't. She was happy she said them. They were words that needed to be said. But were they words that needed to be said just then?

Aryanne sighed. It was futile to worry about such things. The past could not be undone. Time was like ink; what was written would last until the worlds end. It wasn't there for anyone to change or erase, it was only there to be read and understood.

"Aryanne?" came a low whimper from a quiet corner of the cave. Valyn sat up in his furs, stretching his tired limbs as he did so.

Aryanne's heart fluttered in her chest. "Valyn! You're awake," she said cheerily. She needed him just then. His timing could not have been better. She knelt next to him. "Do you need anything?"

Valyn shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I'm just so tired. I don't remember anything past that town."

Aryanne remembered Greensfield better than she liked. She had never been so afraid, for herself or her brother. The power Valyn displayed there was unlike anything she'd ever seen him do before. It scared her to think what might happen if he'd ever do something like that again.

"Greensfield was some time ago. We're safe now. Cael has promised to help us, and answer all our questions."

Valyn remained quiet. Something was eating at him. He had that look in his eyes Aryanne learned to recognize whenever her brother would enter one of his moods. He was always so thoughtful, lost in his mind and pulling apart his thoughts. "Is something bothering you, Valyn?" Aryanne asked the question as if she were on a thin sheet of ice, as if the wrong question would shatter the ice and send them both spiraling into an icy dark depth.

Valyn's jaw tightened. "I almost feel as if I've forgotten who I am."

Aryanne felt a twinge of pain flutter around in her heart. Valyn was all she had left, and if he was lost to himself, it was only a matter of time until he'd be lost to her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't really know," Valyn said softly. "I don't feel myself. Ever since we've left Valadel, I've been having these dreams. And after Greensfield, I...I never thought I'd wake up."

Dreams? The word was like a splash of cold water. "What sort of dreams?"

Valyn shrugged his slender shoulders. "I don't know. I'm seeing things I've never seen before. Whole lands made of ice, oceans made of dirt. I'm flying in some, drowning in others. They're always different. The one thing that remains the same is this feeling I have that something's chasing me."

Aryanne's throat tightened. Valyn's dreams sounded far too much like hers for her liking. Her uncle once told them a long time ago that in the olden days, when elves walked the earth, the Gods would speak to them through their dreams. Dreams were said to be the mortal dwelling of the ethereal plane, a place where elves were offered a chance to commune with their creators and travel their lands. But those were just stories...

Valyn took a long look around the room. "Where is everyone? Where is Gabrielen and Seigfreid?"

Aryanne pulled herself away from her thoughts long enough to answer him. "Gabrielen is with his grandfather making tea, and Seigfreid, um-" What exactly should she say? How did she put this? Was Seigfreid out throwing one of his usual temper tantrums or was he gone for good? "He left. I'm not sure when he'll be back." If he'll be back, she meant to say. "How have you been? Do you need anything?"

Valyn nodded slowly. "He'll come back soon, I'm sure. He's stuck with us this long."

They had been through much together, the four of them. Sometimes Aryanne seemed to forget that. Finding them in Valadel, the escape from Elderstone, the disaster at Greensfield, Howlington, and now these mountains. Yes, Valyn was right. They had been through much together. More than Aryanne had been through with anyone else.

And Seigfreid stuck with us the whole way through, Aryanne thought bitterly. The memory of her words tasted ill on her tongue. She wondered then if it was too late to go after him. Perhaps a simple sorry would convince him to turn around and return to them. She would take back what they said and they would laugh about it later. Or perhaps this was for the best. They'd be rid of him sooner than later, and sooner suited Aryanne well enough, she supposed. Seigfreid held up his end of the bargain, and it was time for them to part ways.

But if it were that simple, then why did it seem so hard to Aryanne? Ending on such bitter terms didn't sit well with her either. Damn, but Aryanne's mind was made a mess. She looked at Valyn sitting there with curious golden eyes. He could sense her inner turmoil, just as she could sense his. There was no one else like him that she had, no one else that knew her as well as he did.

"Is everything alright, Aryanne?"

Aryanne shook his head. She knew what she had to do. "I'm going to go find Seigfreid. I'll be back soon." She stood and turned for the cave, but just as she did, Cael's door blew open. Gabrielen stood there with a serious expression. "Aryanne, my grandfather would like to speak to you."

Answers, Aryanne thought suddenly. It tasted sweet. He would answer her questions. He lived before the revolution, he knew about her people. He could explain her dreams, her powers. He could tell her what to do next. She looked back to the cave where Seigfreid left. She sighed, and shook her head. She'd been looking for answers long before she looked for Seigfreid's forgiveness.

She looked back to Gabrielen. "Okay. Let us speak then."

*****

Cael was kneeling on the ground over two small clay cups of warm tea. He wore his faded brown robes with the hood drawn over his head, and from it's shadows sprouted a long white beard. His eyes picked up when he heard Aryanne enter. With a sweeping arm, he gestured for her to sit opposite of him. "Gabrielen says your name is Aryanne. That is an elegant name. It once belonged to a Levellan queen some thousand years ago."

Aryanne's lips formed into a smile. Her uncle chose her name himself, and for that same reason. "You're a queen," Aryanne remembered Tyren saying when she was young. "That will be hard to forget if you have the name of one." Memories of her uncle didn't seem to hurt so much anymore. They didn't feel like the sharp searing pains they once did, but rather like a sweet dull ache. She bowed her head. "Thank you, Cael. You are most kind."

Cael grunted. "It is good to know my courtly customs have not rusted away. It has been quite some time since I've treated with royals. Yes. Quite some time indeed." He brought his fingers to his bearded chin and chased a memory, one that Aryanne didn't doubt was filled with kings, queens, and all manners of elven court and nobility. What she would give to simply take a peek into this old elvor's mind.

His eyes met hers suddenly, the memory gone like the wind. "My grandson tells me you have a gift. An extraordinary gift, or so he tells it."

Aryanne nodded. "Both my brother and I do. My uncle said we were gifted as well."

Cael drew his eyebrows together. "And who was this uncle of yours?"

Saying his name would often bring tears to Aryanne's eyes, but it wouldn't here and now. His name was to be spoken with pride. "Tyren Levell."

"Tyren Levell," Cael said mystically. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time." He looked at Aryanne as if he were sizing her up, like how a traveler would size up a horse for a long journey. "I should have known you for a Levellan. You certainly have the looks of one."

"You knew my uncle?" Aryanne said with wonder. She thought his memory would only live with her. How relieved she felt to know that would not be so.

Cael chuckled. "I wouldn't say I knew him. I knew of him, but then again, so did all of elvenkind. The Levells were one of the Great Dynasties. There wasn't an elf in all of Evril that hadn't heard the name Levell at least once in their life.

Cael waved his hand. "No, I had only ever seen the elvor in the flesh just once. It was just after the revolution broke out. He was with your grandfather, Councilor Quentyn, at Providence. That was what we called our capital. The Dynasties had been summoned, and elvenkind was at war. Your father was there too, if I remember. He looked every inch a king."

"My father?" Aryanne gasped. She only knew of her father from what her uncle had told her and Valyn about him, which wasn't much. Tyren wasn't a part of her father's life until the war. He'd been sent to ward with another Elven king when he was just a boy, so that he may one day return to help Baylen rule his own kingdom. The revolution saw to it that such a day would never dawn.

Cael nodded. "Yes, sweet child. I did know your father. I treated with many elven kings during my life, and your father was one I had the great fortune of meeting. You look very much like him, if my memory serves me faithfully."

"What was he like?" Aryanne asked in a voice coated with desire. She wanted know everything she could about him. When he rose in the morning, his favorite food, his first love, what time he broke his fast, his favorite song. She'd know it all if she could.

Cael smiled warmly. "He was everything a king should be. He was an elvor of good humor and taste. There was nothing he enjoyed more than fine wine, fine clothes, and fine music. And like all good kings, he shared such pleasures with those he ruled. His court was one of my favorites to visit."

Aryanne's heart swelled with pride. She never knew her father, and Tyren's stories of him were few and far between. In each of his stories, her father was a tired and weary elvor concerned only with war and survival. Blood called for him, and he answered, or so her uncle said. But that calling changed him. It changed the world...

Cael continued. "The Kingdom of Valadel was a place of wonder amongst the Great Dynasties. Every winter, a great ball and feast was held there. Elves across the land would flock to it to dance and drink and tell stories. The mages would use magic and illusions to put on shows. The troupers would play the sweetest music that ever graced your ears. We celebrated the Gods above, and told their stories. Some of my favorite memories as a young elvor were at those balls. Valadel was a magical place. It was said that Zennel himself blessed their halls in the early days of elvenkind. What I'd give to visit that place just one more time."

Aryanne could not believe the Valadel he spoke of and the Valadel she knew were one in the same. There was no music within the halls of Valadel anymore, only the faint scratching and lonely howling of the cursed ones. Wine didn't flow through the dining room, only blood. They wore rags, not robes. Valadel was the home to monsters now, not kings and queens. The thought of what her home used to be and what it was now seemed to both break and mend her heart. "I wish I could have known my father." A question came to her suddenly. "What about my mother?" Tyren seldom spoke about her. The mere mention of her seemed to cause him great pain whenever she or Valyn asked about her. All she knew was that she was beautiful and that she died birthing her and her brother.

Cael frowned. "I'm afraid I never had the pleasure of meeting Princess Ellawyn. From what I heard, she was a beautiful and kind soul. Quentyn spoke fondly of her. He said Baylen took to her like a storm to the sea. Theirs was a fierce love. I'm sure they made a fine couple." He gave Aryanne a curious glance. "What became of them? If I may ask."

Aryanne wished she could have said that they survived. That they grew old together and raised her brother and her to be righteous and worthy of their crowns. But that was not their fate, and no matter of wishing would change that. "Men attacked our kingdom as it sank. My uncle said my father died fighting them. My mother died later from birthing my brother and me." It was what her uncle told her years ago. That was most of what she knew about them; how they died. Tyren hardly spoke of her parents, or of elvenkind. He only spoke of the evil deeds of men, and how one day, they would pay for what they did. That, and their survival. But surviving does not taste as sweet as living.

"And the rest of your people?" Cael asked again. "Whatever became of Valadel?"

They invaded her mind just then, the cursed ones. Their soulless white eyes, their twisted rotten bodies. She almost didn't have the heart to tell him what became of their people. "They...they were cursed. I never knew them as people, only as monsters."

A look of surprise flickered across Cael's face. It was a curious look, one that suggested something had worked that he never intended to. But as quick as it came, the look was gone. "I'm...sorry to hear that." The words were slow to roll off his tongue. "Your grandfather, Quentyn, begged us- I meant to say me - in joining him and the others. He was convinced it was the only way we'd survive. I told him what I thought of his plan. Courting ancient magic, casting Valadel..." his look grew distant, and old secrets wandered his face. "It was folly."

"Why? How did you know? Please, tell me," Aryanne nearly pleaded.

Cael shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't have the answers for you, young one. Whatever happened in the final hours of your kingdom, I have not the slightest clue. I leaned years later from an old tavern innkeeper what happened. He's long gone now, him and that little inn of his. I was told that your kingdom had not only sunk, but collapsed entirely. They said Jorik himself moved the mountains and commanded the earth, and banished your kingdom to a watery grave. Bah, the lies men tell. I thought the plan had failed. I thought the remainder of elvenkind had been lost to the sea." He gave her a hopeful look. "I'm glad I was somewhat mistaken."

"But where did the curse come from? My uncle said that's what turned everyone to monsters, some ancient curse. We never knew why or how it happened. Please, you must know something!"

Cael looked at her sadly. "I don't. I'm sorry, I wish I did, but I don't. Whomever cursed your kingdom must have consulted with ancient evils. Dark magic such as that was forbidden. It had been so ever since the banishment of-" he looked around, as if he were wary of a ghost, "Of a great and horrible evil."

"What sort of evil?" asked Aryanne.

A sense of dread burrowed into Cael's eyes. "There are mysterious dark entities at work in this world of ours, Aryanne.  In the earliest days of time, the Gods battled such foes, casting them away into eternal darkness. Still, their corruption is not so easily stifled. Only the darkest of beings would dare court such evil. If your people were indeed cursed...no, I would not think of it."

"But the curse came from somewhere," Aryanne challenged. "Maybe there was someone involved? Someone that learned the dark ways."

"For that to be true, we'd have to admit that the Gods failed in their endeavors," Cael said ominously. "I wish to never entertain that idea."

"But I have to-"

"I"m afraid I no longer wish to speak upon the matter," Cael cut her off. "I summoned you because I wanted to see these abilities Gabrielen spoke of. He says you're gifted with magic." He gave his beard a contemplative but skeptical stroke. "Forgive me for saying so, but the notion fills me with disbelief. There hasn't been an elven magic user in almost five thousand years, not since the Great Sacrifice." There was a sense of mourning that followed his words. Aryanne had never heard of the Great Sacrifice, but before she could ask what it was or what it meant, Cael resumend speaking.

"If you would." He made a gesture towards her, one that seemed to ask her to show him something.

Aryanne would happily oblige him. Golden white light sparked at her fingertips, dancing between her fingers and swirled in her palm. Cael's eyes widened at the display and his lips parted in disbelief. With her other hand, Aryanne pulled and stretched the light, and shaped it into a perfect sphere. She casted the orb into the air. It illuminated everything with a dim wash of light, so bright that even the small fire between them seemed darker.

"Amazing," Cael muttered breathlessly.

"That was the first trick my uncle taught me. He helped me learn to control my power as best he could, but magic was a foreign concept to him. Many years were spent in trial and error. He was a better swordsman than a mage."

"And your brother, the one who sleeps, is he a natural born mage?"

Aryanne nodded. Growing up, there were times Valyn seemed even more powerful than her. "Yes, he is."

"I could teach you more," said Cael. "Both of you. The ways of magic are not all lost."

Aryanne shot him a look. "What do you mean?"

"I...I had to see it for myself before I said anything further, but...I could teach you. Magic is alive and well."

Aryanne's face twisted in confusion. "I don't understand, I thought you said-"

"There's much you don't understand,young one, but there is much you can learn. Did your uncle ever tell you about the Canta Vel Zen?"

The words swirled around in her head like winds without direction, lost forever in a foreign sky. "No, never."

Cael nodded. "I'd thought so. Ours was an order most secret. We were the monks of Zennel's Monastery. When elvenkind proved itself unworthy of the gift of magic, it's survival became our burden. We alone were entrusted with its preservation. For years, I thought magic would die with me."

Cael snapped his fingers, and a small tongue of flame hovered above his thumb. The room around them darkened, until the only light shed upon them was the warm orange glow that emanated from Cael's firelight. Suddenly, he blew out the flame, and darkness surrounded them.

I can teach you many things, Aryanne, a voice said within her head. Both you and your brother. Aryanne could hear it clear as day, as well as she could hear her own thoughts. She gasped. It felt as if Cael were inside her head, speaking from within her mind.

Your power will be unlike anything this world has ever seen. I will mold you into a goddess, and nothing will be able to stop you. I can show you a different kind of magic.

Suddenly, the darkness vanished, and Cael was sitting opposite of her. He was returned to that kneeling position, his head bowed beneath his hood, his hands resting on his knees, and his eyes closed like curtains over a window on a warm sunny day, struggling to keep the light from seeping in. They flickered open. "Do you wish to learn the ways of the Canta Vel Zen, Aryanne?" His voice seemed to be everywhere; far, near, out in the distance, whispered in her ear, an echo within her mind.

Aryanne nodded hungrily. "Teach me everything."

Caels smile was almost wicked. "Let us begin."