Darkness swallowed the world. The orange moon hanging in the sky shed little light, just enough to see the brush and trees before colliding with them. Terrifying sounds accosted Joenek's ears – piercing shrieks, guttural, snorting growls, and scraping thuds – as a creature beyond imagining pursued him.

Joenek's chest exploded in pain and his heart pounded so hard it would burst. The creature's panting had a rhythmic cadence, never far, its sticky, warm breath a force that threatened to suffocate. Joenek ran, frantic, the landscape a blur. He tripped, stumbled, righted himself, and would have pondered the odd weight pressing on his shoulders and neck, thumping against his back, had he not struggled to stay upright while dodging a branch.

Splashing punctuated the pauses in the creature's breath. A painful chill crept up Joenek's pants, taking his breath away. His joints ached. Waist-deep in murky water, he turned; something tightened around his neck.

The child, he thought, though he could not recall who it was; only that he must protect it.

He tried to speak calming words of reassurance. His mouth was incapable of forming words. Even if he could speak, what could he possibly say? Death loomed at the edge of the tree line, pacing, snarling, wicked eyes freezing Joenek in place. His gut twisted and he swallowed a scream. The creature gave one last growl before leaping in the air.

*                        *                        *

Joenek woke with a start. A clay jar shattered on the floor beside his hanging cot. Again, the same dream haunted his sleep. He was breathless and his clothes drenched in sweat; Joenek pulled them off just as a familiar tingling crept from the base of his skull down to his spine. This was no mere dream, that much he knew. The only question was when these events would transpire.

He dressed in a daze, his mind flitting between the beast and the child clinging to his back. He tried to picture a face, but the only result was a haze. Still, he thought of the child as he left the small comfort of his home and traversed the narrow walkways of La'el.

It was a tree-nestled town, and it did not stop for lost faces or premonitions of doom.

The shops of La'el were built into the very trees. Joenek passed one whose entrance was marked by a collection of limbs knit together in the shape of a book. The walkway widened; the usual vendors were joined by travelling merchants, selling wares on the interwoven branches. It was market day, and several traders and merchants had arrived from the southern and western regions of Gael-Narenth. One even had large baskets and crates filled with foreign baubles, fabrics, and jewels; a rare occasion that caused quite the stir in the secluded town of La'el. Joenek peered through the crowd of elves who marveled at the trinkets and glimpsed vibrant gems set in black rings, circlets, and cuffs. He tore his gaze from the merchant's wares.

At last Joenek saw what he was looking for.

To the right of the walkway was a hardy entrance quite different from the other shopfronts. It lacked the grace and detail of the typical elvish architecture. Its designer had focused on simplicity of lines and sturdiness of structure.

Joenek strode through the opening and immediately descended a flight of steps.

La'el's founding elves had long ago woven two trees together, twisting one around the other into a spiraling stairwell that now ended in a large chamber beneath the earth. A great heat blasted against Joenek's face as he entered Arun's forge – La'el's only blacksmith and weapons master. Fire roared upon the far wall; metal clanged. Joenek cringed and shouted a greeting to the blacksmith.

The ear-shattering ringing ceased, and Arun turned his gaze upon Joenek. He gave a nod of recognition before resuming his hammering. Joenek grit his teeth and waited until the blacksmith looked over his project and laid it aside.

Arun rubbed his blackened hands on a cloth before approaching Joenek and grasping the inside of his forearm.

"Greetings. What brings you here, this fine an' lovely day?" A lopsided grin softened Arun's features. "Oi, thet's right. You're supposed to bring me thet Gredhe. Do you have it on yeh?"

Joenek nodded and reached into his bag, carefully extricating an orb from its fabric. He handed it to Arun, who took it in both hands with as much care as a mother might hold her child. The blacksmith inspected it briefly and tucked the orb into a plain pouch at his hip.

"I thank you for keeping an eye on me forge these few days past. And for collectin' the Gredhe."

"It was no trouble. What is it, anyway?"

"Let's just say, it's a mighty precious thing. And we wouldn't want it fallin' into the wrong 'ands." Arun crossed his arms. Firelight danced over his deep-set eyes. "Are you plannin' on seeing what ol' Rondaal is selling this time 'round? I hear he's got quite the collection from Unwredh."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something a little strange."

"Somethin' troubling you?"

Joenek recounted his vision to Arun. He had been tormented by the dream ever since the orb came to him, delivered by a dirt-encased elf and it was a relief to finally share them with another.

But Arun barely seemed to be listening. When Joenek was done, he raised his brows and grinned.

"My, my. Certainly sounds like a terrifying dream. What will you do, Joen? Hide away forever from this monstrous beasty?"

Joenek joined in, feeling more than a little foolish for fretting over something that may not come to pass. He did not bother to inform Arun of his ability to see future events.

The blacksmith paused to catch his breath. "Oi, Joen...you best find somewhere nobody'll find yeh. Wouldn't want our good ranger-in-trainin' to fall to some dark blob, eh?"

"Alright, alright. It was an absurd dream."

"Aye, that it were. But are you not forgettin' something?" Arun lifted a sword from a perch on the wall. "Your new blade, Joen. Finished it just this morn. Just in time, it'd seem, for your impending battle."

"That solves everything, then. I have nothing to fear if I'm wielding a sword made by the mighty Arun of Bragh Lennoch." Joenek inspected the craftsmanship before taking hold of the weapon.

"She's a beauty ain't she? A fine blade, that."

"It really is. Many thanks, my friend."

Arun beamed. "Any time, Joen."

Joenek said a quick farewell and returned up the stairs. He blinked in the gradual brightness, pausing just before the exit.

Three elves stood before him, their expressions mirroring his own surprise. The rothnak standing in the center gave Joenek a cursory glance before sweeping him aside like a curtain and striding through the entrance.

The other two elves were tall – standing nearly a head above Joenek – and remained standing on either side of the entrance. Joenek darted past them, his collar bone still aching where the rothnak had gripped him.

She's in a lovely mood.

Joenek strapped his new weapon to his waist and strode along the walkway, eyes falling upon yet another odd elf.

A rothnak – female elf in the common tongue – walked with a gentle sway of her hips. Yet it was not her movement that drew Joenek's eyes, but the assortment of fabrics and colours draped around her body; vivid among the sea of earth-toned tunics around them.

She moved with the grace of one born into nobility but lacked the cleanliness and sophistication of the title. Her dark hair hung in heavy, greasy clumps and a smudge ran across her cheek.

She came to stand before him, revealing what should have been an alluring smile. "You look like the caring sort. Some coin, perhaps? For one in need."

Joenek pulled away from her touch. "N-no, I don't. I mean, I can't."

"Come now, handsome. Surely you brought something on market day." She moved closer to him and draped one arm over his shoulder; with her other, she plucked at a pocket in his breeches. An awful odour rose to his nose. Joenek choked back a gag.

What is wrong with this rothnak?

"I'm sure I could repay you...somehow." The rothnak grinned, revealing yellowed teeth between chapped lips. Her hand slipped into his pocket. Joenek ripped her hand away, searching it for any coin she may have pilfered. It was empty. He kept his hold on her wrist and lowered a hand to his pocket, an odd weight alerting him to something out of the ordinary. He never finished the action.

A scream rent the air, shouts, the splintering of wood. The strange rothnak wrenched her arm from Joenek's grasp and vanished in the crowd, and when another scream rose, Joenek darted down a smaller walkway, chasing its source. He ran against a wave of fleeing merchants. Beyond the tumult stood three massive creatures.

Elaborathin, he thought with unease. He had only come across an elaborathin once; even then it had been during his training. Still, there was no mistaking the creatures.

They were grotesque, standing a few heads taller than the average elf, and came in various forms – horned or covered in matted hair, bulky or wiry of frame; their colour, too, ranged anywhere from charcoal to sickly green. Yet for all their differences, the elaborathin shared one crucial trait: a fierce inclination for battle.

Joenek ducked behind a stack of crates. The elaborathin smashed down the lane, hefty blades tearing through every stall they passed. Some brave elves sprang forward – makeshift weapons raised – only to be tossed aside. An elaborathin ran his blade through an elf's gut, swiped the head clean off another. Blood sprayed the broken stalls, the smell of iron filled the air.

"Where it is?" one elaborathin bellowed, his voice deep and rasping like rusted metal. He lifted a bystander by the front of his tunic, hurling him against a wall when he failed to respond. "I know it here."

"Leave this place!" a voice rang in response.

All three elaborathin turned in unison. Joenek's stomach lurched as their gaze fell in his direction, even though he knew it was not him they were watching.

It was the elves he had seen earlier at the entrance of Arun's forge, and they now strode up the ruined street.

One of the elaborathin stepped forward with a snarl. "Not without Gredhe."

The blonde rothnak nodded at her companions, and they drew their blades.

It was all the encouragement the elaborathin needed. They charged down the walkway, crude blades at the ready. Joenek hunkered closer against his crates as the two parties clashed ahead of him.

The elves ducked, parried, counterattacked. They moved like water around stones in a river; fluid and smooth, calm and patient against their opponents' ferocity.

The rothnak swung. Her sword grazed her opponent's thigh; enough to draw blood but not enough to debilitate. The elaborathin only roared with bloodlust and rammed his shoulder hard against her gut.

Meanwhile, her dark-haired companion already struggled to hold his blade aloft. The sleeve of his sword arm was drenched in blood, and he was backed against a tree. Finally, his opponent lifted his own weapon and, with a great force, struck the elf down. He dropped to the boughs with a cry – crude blade gouged deep in his side.

Joenek scrambled back at the sight, his pulse racing. The rothnak and her remaining companion were running straight in his direction, the elaborathin in hot pursuit.

Wood thumped as the rothnak landed atop the crates, slashing and jabbing, keeping two eleaborathin at bay, while paces away, her companion fought off the remaining creature.

Joenek crept away from the action, eyes focused on the rothnak.

Her brow was dotted with sweat, her face fierce, and in one hand, she gripped the bag in which Arun had just that morning placed the Gredhe.

He ought to help, he urged himself to do so, but something froze him in place and when he finally gathered his courage, it was too late.

One of the elaborathin smashed into the crates, sending the rothnak plummeting to the ground. Her bag flew from her grasp and landed across the walkway, right in the elaborathin's line of sight.

Without thinking, Joenek sprinted toward the bag and snatched it from the walkway.

Immediately the elaborathin shifted their attention upon him.

Joenek swore under his breath.

He glanced toward the two elves. The rothnak had disentangled herself from the crates, rubbing debris from her eyes. The other elf was nowhere in sight.

Just my luck.

The elaboarthin drew closer and closer. Joenek unsheathed his new blade, but before he could even decide his first course of action, one of the creatures dropped to the boughs with a sickening gurgle.

Behind him, bloodied sword in hand, stood the missing elf. He offered Joenek a curt nod before engaging the remaining elaborathin.

He was fast, but his momentary lapse proved detrimental. One of the creatures roared and backhanded the elf as if swatting away a pest, sending him hurtling hard against a wall.

Joenek leapt aside as the other elaborathin came charging. The beast was strong, but slow on its feet. Joenek spun and lodged his knife deep into the weak point of the creature's armour, puncturing through leather and flesh.

It turned on Joenek, howling, lashing out with a clawed hand. Next came the swing of his primitive weapon.

Joenek's sword clashed against his. Another elaborathin swept in from the side; Joenek barely caught him in his periphery. He swore. The creature came quickly, there was no time to turn or parry.

A golden blur slipped between him and the oncoming blade. The rothnak stood between him and his new attacker. "Fight, idiot."

Her words stirred him to action. Joenek punched, swerved, punched again. The creature spluttered, blade above his head, and Joenek used the opportunity to drive his sword into the elaborathin's throat.

The creature's blade dropped with a dull thud, its owner soon following.

Joenek stood, panting, in the aftermath. When he looked up he was glad to see the remaining creature had also been felled.

The rothnak cleaned her blade before returning it to its sheath. "Precisely what were you attempting to do?"

Joenek paused, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "Trying to help."

She sighed, exasperated. "Give me the bag."

Joenek, weary of her pompous behavior, ignored her. Instead, he worked at dislodging his sword from the elaborathin's now-mutilated throat.

"You dare ignore me?" She extended her hand, her demands clear.

"I don't think I want to give this to you. For all I know, you stole it."

Before he could process what was happening, she took hold of his shoulders and slammed her knee into his ribs. Joenek doubled over from pain.

She leaned back and glared at him. "Knave."