The following morning, as they shared a meal, everyone gathered to hear what news Celik had.

His recounting was concise.

Edileth had been introduced to Celik several summers ago, upon her first attendance to one of the Ferlian Order's semi-annual gatherings. She had been but seventeen summers at the time, and the rothnak in charge of looking after her had hovered around Edileth as if expecting her to make a grave mistake.

At each of the Ferlian gatherings Celik had been just as he was now: a soft-spoken elf of few words. Seldom did he engage others in conversation and – on the occasion he did – his words were brief.

Now, as he spoke of his journey to the Drezkens, Edileth studied the Kenim Naduhl who often hid in the shadowed and secluded places of the banquet halls.

He wore the garments characteristic of the superior class of rangers; a long coat worn over a special cowl. The fabric of these two articles of clothing were such that, when still, the wearer could all but disappear into his surroundings.

Most elves kept their hair no shorter than the length of the shoulder, but his reached no further than the tip of his nose.

His eyes were intense as he spoke. Edileth had heard plenty of prattle from the other young maidens who attended the Ferlian gatherings – all of whom seemed infatuated with the Kenim Naduhl – though he had shown no sign of interest in anyone.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, Celik shifted his gaze to Edileth. She looked away, heat rising in her face.

Marvelous. Let's behave like an enamored little girl, shall we?

"Not much for news," finished Celik. Save for the moment he found Marrik, he had not otherwise endured great difficulty.

"Well, we are glad you finally–"

A voice interrupted Yena mid-speech, bouncing magnificently through the ruins. Edileth jumped in her seat.

"Is that..." Joenek started, looking around. "Is that Arun?"

The blacksmith appeared moments later, following the smell of Yena's cooking. Joenek jumped to his feet and they each took a turn pounding one another on the back.

"What are you doing here?"

"Aren'na you glad to see your old friend? Thought for sure you'd be glad for my boisterous presence in this dismal place." Arun dug an elbow into Joenek's side with a laugh. His face sobered, then. "Though I don't suppose ye'll be quite so pleased when you hear what I have to say."

Torben stepped forward and placed a hand upon Arun's shoulder, his face taut. "What brings you here, friend? What news have you?"

"Naught but ill news, I'm a-feared."

"What more could go wrong?" Joenek mutterd under his breath.

Edileth was inclined to agree. But before Arun could share his news, Joenek started glancing about the room, shivering as though drenched in the Riddaein waters.

"Are ye feeling well, Joen?"

Joen gave a forced laugh and simply shook his head. "I'm fine. Come, sit with me."

"As I was sayin', things have taken a turn for the worse. La'el was attacked." At everyone's gasps and grumbles, Arun nodded his head. "Aye, 'twere ungodly chaos. Many of the nobles were slaughtered; Repind was among 'em."

Edileth sat in stunned silence. She glanced to the other elves; their faces mirrored her own shock. Yena wrung her hands, bowing her head. Rikku's eyes shimmered with tears.

"Two squads of elaborathin raided the town in the wee hours yesterday. The beasties infiltrated Canopy Inner, where they killed Repind, Eisha, Gimme-Kae, and a few others. They then invaded 'omes in Mid-way Selth. I haven't seen sech horror since my days in Bragh Lennoch."

In the silence following his words, Arun reached into the front of his tunic and retrieved a crumpled page. As the blacksmith turned it round, Edileth saw the symbol of Akkheron in its center; a serpent encircling a mighty tree. In the serpent's mouth was a round object, and little circles looked to be falling from the tree's bared branches. Edileth could almost believe these were snowflakes. However, she had seen this tree and serpent emblazoned upon a tattered heraldic banner and knew it to be blood.

Shuddering, Edileth looked to the angular text written beneath. She recognized it as Shekkholian but could not decipher its meaning.

"Really," grumbled Torben. "One would think he could at least manage to hire a decent translator. What rubbish is this?"

Torben tsked and harrumphed. Joenek – who seemed to have been paying little attention – looked to the hannorim with gathered brows.

"What does it say?"

"Akkheron's underlings have done a poor job in their grammars. But a rough translation of the Shekkholian text would be: Resisting the Serpent's Path shall bring death. Of course, I've added slight embellishment to their somewhat simple language." Torben returned the flyer to Arun and pinched the tip of his nose, as he often did in thought. "At any rate, he's a foolish child to call himself 'the Serpent' when he is but a pawn. And though matters shall certainly worsen before the end of days, even Akkheron's master shall face judgement at the time which has been set."

"Child, eh?" Arun laughed. "Why, he's older than the lot o' us."

"Be as that may," Torben said, "his behaviour is no better than a petulant youth. Though he is cunning, there is much he lacks."

"I fail to see what he lacks, aside from an elvish conscience." Though she had tried, Edileth could not keep back her retort.

"It would, indeed, seem that Akkheron has everything one might desire. But he, too, shall face his end. And I shouldn't think it will be a nice end, either."

"And when, pray, shall his end come?" Edileth stood and paced. "Akkheron has sat upon his throne for nigh three thousand years. What hope have we of seeing an end to his vile reign?"

"Calm yourself, young one. Feridh has written Akkheron's demise; it shall come to pass, be it in our life, or in the lifetime of our descendants," said Torben. "This is the hope we possess."

"Why then has Feridh not acted? How many more must die at the hands of the Si-olians, before He decides to rid us of that pawn, as you called him?" As soon as the words left her lips, Edileth regretted them.

But Yena's smile was warm, sympathetic. "Your questions are not unique to you, dear. We have all faced such doubts."

"Indeed," agreed Torben. "In a different age, a well-learned elf by the name of Áeriodh had also struggled with such misgivings. He lived in the time long before Akkheron's rise to power; when the bloody battles raged between elf and sharukán. During his own time, Áeriodh faced great darkness and dismay. And in his search for answers, he realized evil was parasitic in nature; it feeds on and corrupts good.

"However, he considered evil as something missing. Take this hole in my sleeve; it is not something, but rather a lack thereof."

Yena frowned at her husband. "What was it this time? An errant branch, a cantankerous crow? How is it you always manage to return to me with tears and holes in your clothing?"

Torben grimaced as he looked toward Arun and Joenek. They laughed at the scolding the hannorim was receiving. "I'm a disheveled, old fool. It is for this very reason I am so in need of you, my love." He winked. "Who else would look after me so well, and with such patience?"

Yena pursed her lips. "Yes, dearest."

"Ah, but I nearly forgot to finish our conversation; forgive me, Edileth." He cleared his throat and contemplated a moment. "Let's see, where was I? Ah, yes, I recall it now.

"Áeriodh was of the mind that, if evil is not an actual thing, Feridh cannot be the author of it. Indeed, we know Feridh is the author of good. It is we, elf-kind, who have made – and continue to make – moral choices resulting in evil. We have fallen from our intended place and, as flawed beings, we commit atrocities against one another. This great tragedy began in the first age and shall persist until the day when He ultimately and finally overcomes evil."

Edileth nodded her head. These were the lessons she had learned since she was a girl. Yet, for all their truth, she found no comfort in them. As if sensing her thoughts, Torben spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

"We are but elves; we cannot fathom the depths and wisdom of Feridh. He allows us to be tried and tested; through this, our faith may be made stronger and our relationship with Him deeper. Think on the passage in Aór Mírnen: The sufferings endured at present are not deserving of comparison to the glory which Feridh shall reveal in His children. And remember, in the day He calls us to Faedhmíl, 'death shall be no more, nor misery, nor weeping.' He has promised us these things.

"And what a joy it is; to know all our failing and pains shall be erased when we depart this land."

Though Torben smiled, the distant look in his eyes held sorrow and longing. Yena placed her hands around one of Torben's and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Now zat La'el 'as been attacked – and Sae-an, in Nissara Len – should we not seek shelter elsewhere?"

"Marrik's condition will make travel a challenge."

"Yes, you are quite right, Celik," Torben nodded. "However, Rikku is also correct. We are at risk of ensnarement by Akkheron's ilk if we linger. 'Tis true, Marrik's frailty may slow us and create some inconvenience – and indeed our flexibility – but I do have a solution that will aid us. I am, after all, a hannorim."