Of Ancient Passages: Chapter 1: The Art of Unexpected

The lunalorns, bloom there pale blue on his porch. They sit reserved atop a blanket of morning frost. They are as splendid and bright as the stars against there dark surrounding, as scented as a pipers song. Casting that heavenly cool light dimly to the new day, proudly stating its limited existence, all from a simple flowerpot.    
   
Sol walks from his porch and into the forest. The walk of the complacent undecided of their existence. The nagging engulfing pain has slunk away leaving a dull ache. The trees offer respite as they dance gently against a cool breeze. A dozen images pop into his head leaving an unstained memory of a time when the breeze felt golden.    
     
A keen fondness for trees (such as his) can go far. Loving them more than people, (especially more than people) is no hard task. His hand fondles the bark as he passes. There is a sense of wonder that comes with trees, grimy smell of roots, rough bark sticky with sap, the trickle of dew down a leaf, it never captures the imagination to visualize the engrossing power of it. To know that they will be here long after he is gone.    
   
There comes something unnatural onto to the tree, a shocking gross sludge splatters green. It spreads on the birch, wrapping around the middle. It pulls with such force that the wood splits. The tree is jerked from its roots and sent flying. There is a burst of blinding light ahead; he strains to see.    
   
Two figures stand, facing each other. A heat seems to rise from the intensity of the facing figures. A middle-aged man reasons with a young woman. Her mind is made up and his pleas fall on deaf ears. When Sol looks at the female, a shiver runs down his spine. Then it hits him, he knows what they are.    
   
How could he have missed it? The male with his pointy hat, delicate blue robe, and ornate staff. The female in her black sequence dress with the slit down the leg. The straps dig into her skin. The upheaval in her breasts creates a small yearning in Sol. The dress is embroidered around the bottom with intricate eyes that ring around. Her raven hair is tied back from her face. Even he could see the power of magic embodied in these radiating two.    
   
Magical pressures charge the air. It winds the boy. It makes him back away, though he does not understand why. The force pops his ears. Nothing can compare to how it sizzles and barges through him. His mind works hard to feel for the answer but none will come.    
   
Uneasiness curdles inside. A frown deepening his face, turning he moves to leave, but the way was so far, and this so exciting. An unquenchable yearn tugs at him. He gets down on the ground. He cannot stop himself from watching, it is so exciting, so new, and he might never have another chance.    
   
The lady speaks in her silky voice. “Get out of my face old man!”    
“How could you.” She starts in on him. “I had too. Why could you do nothing? Why couldn’t you just let me go.”    
   
“I can’t just let you go. You are coming back with me!”    
   
“NO! I am not. I am done with this. I am my own now.”    
   
“Please. Don’t.”    
   
Her foot presses harder into the ground. “What do you care? I am leaving, and you are going to let me. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”    
   
The older gentleman shuts his eyes, as if he knows that there is no other way. “I won’t let you go.”    
   
“Is that a threat?” Her beautiful voice takes on a tone that feels alien.    
   
“Is this how it ends? Will you forsake your life to run away?” He sighs. “I want better of you.”    
   
“I am not your student anymore. Do not lecture me!”    
   
“Your right, you are not my student. Let me show that I am not your teacher!”    
   
The staff bashes against the ground, ready. She twirls a wand in her boney fingers before letting her body into the spell. Blue and black hexes erupt colliding in an electric surge. Each strains to hold onto it. Until they splash into a mess of colors.    
   
“I do not think you will hurt me Shentra.”    
   
“Why not? You of all people can understand pain.”      
   
“You are being swallowed, can’t you see that? Like a poison threatening to take you away. We can fight this together.”    
   
“Why didn’t you help me when I told you about Azan? All of this could have been avoided! You decided to turn your back on me, let them kill the man I love. You and your order will pay.”    
   
“Shentra, don’t think I wanted this for you. I did not know this would happen. We can—“    
   
“Save it Alunda! I am not a witch any longer. One day soon you will learn that.”    
   
Alunda loses his temper. “Dammit, this is your fault not mine. You know how bad the council has gotten. You just had to dabble in restricted scrolls. “    
   
“He was dying! I had to save him. I did not know the means to break that curse. I was so close.” Her face grows long. “But…they…they…killed him. You killed him!! I will not forgive you! I hate all mages.”    
   
Spells are exchanged back and forth, and they create a unique twang when split together. The boy clings behind the tree line. As much as he wants to leave, he is unable to, transfixed. Flurries of spells fight each other out. He covers. Debris crashes into the walnut the bark peeling.    
   
Shentra swishes her wand. A large cloud of smoke coils out of it. Deadly coals hiss from the maw, and fall into little goop piles on the ground. It slithers towards its prey, mouth jutting wide, fangs like twisting sticks. He speaks an unknown word and it rips itself apart.    
   
She snaps her teeth. With a few hand signals, a gust of snow swirls around Alunda. They collect into large balls; shards of ice splinter and snap. Fire burns out of his mouth and melts it away. A quirky smirk touches his lips.    
   
Her voice is bold in uttering arcane words. The boy watches as foliage sways. A strong wind picks up. Leaves can be seen in brilliant shades of gold. It loses its way blanketing around Shentra. Her skin seems to vibrate and hum, even pulsating. It circles faster and faster, no single shape can be seen.    
   
The colors of her clothes and body mingle together in one violent blur. It takes her forward, spinning, too fast to control or direct. It slams into Alunda knocking him about. Sent flying his body slaps into a tree and he catches branches on the way down.    
   
A ripe pain runs through his body. Wiping the blood from himself, he gets up. The words she trumpets make Sol jib. It seems even more detestable when they come faster, with a higher pitch and shrill. She digs into her palm, letting the blood drip to the ground.    
   
The blood fizzes, signaling the start of something unwholesome. It spreads making its donor lightheaded and pale. Huge parts spit out of the puddle, veins wrap around bones fastening them together. It is a sickening sight; Sol finds himself turning away but his eyes keep hold. A shallow breath rasps from the lungs.      
   
Muscles and flesh contort and spasm as they mash together. The body of a monstrous thing takes shape, until a corporeal beast stands, complete. Its greatly massive form hulks over Shentra. It stares at her contemplative and curious. Emotions are understood and passed between them. Images exchange as she provides the sealing words.    
   
Its massive head jerks down, nudging her lightly to pet it, met with attentive rubbing, knowledgeable motherly affection, if false. A loud purring comes from it. Those demonic eyes stare and brood nearly catching Sol in there glance. She is the master here, its soul on her leash, a kindled relationship of obedience. A malleable pet for a malignant mistress.    
   
She points to Alunda. “Break him. Show him what you can do.”    
   
The creature bounds off each step resonating. Its teeth are like spears. Its talons like scimitars. Its hands the size of war hammers. Aside from its horrid appearance, its smell is worse, like melting flesh in a swamp. Its grace is mind bending, stupefying.    
   
Unbelievable!  Never even in my dreams would I dare to imagine this. Yet here it is before me ready to destroy this man. sol thinks.    
   
Its talons slice forward. An ash is split, Alunda barrels out of the way. The beast’s arms come up and smash down. Quickly he moves again. His body shakes as the staff transforms into a spear. Getting to his feet, he readies himself.    
   
Alunda dips. His spear piercing air, sound and distance, striking the belly of the beast. Like all toothpicks meant to stab, it is only a minor irritancy. It leaves neither scratch nor blemish on its rough hide. The creature moves back gaining footing. It bumps against Shentra, knocking her clumsily. The air escapes her as she hits the hard morning ground.      
   
Alunda cannot help but laugh. “What’s the matter can’t control your monster?”    
   
“BE SILENT. I WILL NOT HAVE YOU MOCK ME!!!”    
   
“Come back with me, damn you, we can fight him.”    
   
“I don’t know.” She is wavering.    
   
“We can do this, together.”    
   
“You may be—“ She shakes the notion away. “I must go; I will not listen to your hopes any more. Do not fret Alunda, we will meet again, I promise you that. Until then I leave you in the hands of my pet. Count the hours.”    
   
“No wait!” It is too late she is gone. A beastly shadow casts over Alunda. “Gods help me.”    
   
The boy watches as the wizard struggles with the abomination. The staff flings out of grasp in a clumsy trip. Dread never felt so fetter. The beast’s talons swish down for him. The boy’s mouth hangs agape.    
   
Something dire awakens in Sol, burning towards his heart like acid. It is inert and pressured, rising as fast and powerful as thunder. He grows in force and fever by the threshold. It comes wave after wave, filling up every inch of him. Each time it is stronger and heavier, threatening to burst.    
   
The sheer berth of the energy is boundless. It is incredible. How can this be possible?he grits his teeth as the passion and magnitude of the energy booms. What is happening? It hurts so well. It burns like fire! I feel so warm, so bright. What is this? This is incredible. I AM ALIVE!a blue aura envelops Sol, its shape is deadly and threatening. A gale wind folds around him, and vibrates into the energy, trees flex away, leaves vriole. Within Meda, dogs yelp in surprise, men and women pause without knowing why.    
   
The next thing Sol knew he had taken the full brunt of the monsters blow, it never hammers home. The aura has its hands up and forces the weapon away with brute power. Next, the auric arms grabs onto the head, pulling with amazing ferocity. The creature fights back tossing from side to side. In one rough singular motion, the aura opens its mouth and bites down.    
   
There is a tough moment when the ethereal teeth stop and seem to clamp on stone. The creature struggles to reach the boy. A ravenous growl empties from an invisible throat. The jaw wrenches closed and blood explodes into its mouth. It jets out for a few seconds before dripping to a final coagulation. Teeth are unset and the monsters head falls to the ground. A horn snags into the soil keeping the head raised.    
   
Sol slumps to his knees body strained. The aura and all the limitless power ebb away. Alunda staggers up, astounded. Sol can barely keep his eyes open. He topples into dreams. The wizard stands over him, shaking his head in confusion.    
   
Where am I? Last thing I remember…. No, that was all a dream. I must have sleepwalked out here. That could not have been real. Nothing that interesting could have happened to me.    
   
Sol’s eyes dart about the cave. He sits nestled next to a small fire. Alunda’s eyes burn in the shadows with a thousand curiosities, ready and waiting for answers. He sits up, uncertain what to believe. The wizard is very tangible. If he is real then one can deduce that all of it did happen.    
   
The cave is dank, a poignant unidentifiable smell is here. Water trinkles down in repetitive plops, drawing a small lizard to drink. A ghost of a ghost relingers, the innocents of children playing, and they laugh inside Sol's head. No memory remains deterred in this place forest. Under every rock can be found nostalgia, Sol’s hand runs over the smooth floor, under every single rock. The lizard is frightened off big Sol's hand, and scurries back into a small dark indention in the cave wall.  
   
“Would you like some tea?” Alunda asks.    
   
His eyes shoot to the wizard. This man is a mage in every sense of the word. Maybe it is his blue robes or the pointy hat. Could it be the twinkle in his eyes? I wonder if it could be the staff. To the boy it is the presence, the feeling and the sense, and maybe just a little of the beard. I suppose you could call that magic.    
   
“S-sure.” His voice is raspy and unused.    
   
Alunda pulls from his cloak a tea set. As the tiny things leave the wizards pocket, they inflate. He sets the kettle on the fire. Then he grabs a rock, holds it over the pot, and whispers something, instantly it disorbs into water. Lastly, he adds the tea packet.    
   
“I have seen a miracle today. Something I cannot explain, even as a wizard. I am truly thankful. I would be dead now without you. Of that, I am most sure. I do wonder how it was done. Do you hold in your possession a magical artifact?” Alunda ponders.    
   
“No. I am a hermit, nothing more.”    
   
“Nothing more, not hardly. No simple boy could have done those things. That was unbelievable. In all my years, I have never seen anything like that. Who are you exactly?”    
   
“I am Sol Blackwood.”    
   
“Ah, and I am Alunda.” He pours him a cup; it is taken gladly. “That was magical energy, I am sure of it. And that aura? Such raw and physical magic is unheard of. I have heard of many types of magic but this is something new entirely. So I ask again, who are you?”    
   
“I have lived in this forest my whole life. What do you want to hear?”    
   
“Hmmmm, I believe you. This makes you even more perplexing.” He twists his beard in thought.  
   
Sol takes a sip of his tea. “It was strange wasn’t it? I can honestly say nothing like that has ever happened to me before. What’s wrong with me?” His hands shake. “I’ll tell you one thing, I felt powerful, really powerful. At first, it was painful but I think I liked the feeling. I know I could lose myself in it, it felt like I could. Like, somehow it might take control. I almost wanted it to. What’s happened to me?”    
   
“I have no idea. All I can offer, is to help you, I owe you that. “    
   
Sol finishes his cup. “I don’t even know you. What help can a wizard offer without trickery? How can you expect me to answer?”  
   
Alunda scratches his head. “I need rest. I will be in town. Think on it; if you decide otherwise come find me.”    
   
“Be on your way sir, I crave no adventure and can not amount to it. Besides, winter is coming and I must prepare. There is much to be done.”    
   
The wizard walks to the cave mouth. He looks back to the boy. “You are young, where is your thirst for adventure. I will stay a few nights then go my way. If by some happy chance you change your mind, come find me. Just follow the rumors.”    
   
“Good afternoon.”    
   
“Yes, good afternoon.”    
   
Finally, he is gone. I must do away with this day. Tomorrow it will be as if nothing ever happened. Its nearing dark, I should go home.    
   
Sol walks the familiar path home. His mind whirling from the events of the day. He is not fixed on staying; he curses himself for saying so. Ghosts of a haunted life linger here possessing him to the point of depression. They travel around every corner passing every bend. Flickering in his mind like a shadow against candlelight. Almost to appear before him, almost.    
   
He should have said yes. Golden chains weigh him hopeful on homely places. It is that which drags him down, for whatever reason. A hope beyond hope for the past to become his future, in every nostalgic way. He is natal and nestled in that blanket. The sad reality becomes the future, never again the before, he kicks a rock in his path, and it goes flying out of his sight.    
   
What hope can a lonely hermit find? He passes over the small creek. Chains weigh him done too well. He turns a right down the path. No one will come looking for him. He is very much alone. His house is ahead.    
   
He flops straight into bed. “What is happening? This is too much.”    
   
After settling sleep comes and reality passerby. Even so, he is not without peace of mind. There is a long pause of darkness in his sleep followed by dreams. On a hill, their struggles a woman against her chains. Three people stand over her, yelling and forceful. Sol is too far away to hear it. She screams back pleading with them.    
   
Together they unlock her shackles and drag her into the forest. Sol follows a short distance behind. The women struggles as they take her into a cave. Inside, they come to a slag of rock with a hole in its center. One of them brings from his pocket a gem. It slides into place perfectly.    
   
A grinding sound echoes through the room and a wall slides away. Carefully they make their way down the steps, gripping her tightly. In the middle of the antechamber is a large stone coffin. Great strength is in use to move the lid and keep her subdued. They begin to force her in, she works hard against them. Her screams are shrill and bloodcurdling.      
   
“What is this? What could she have done to deserve this?” They do not hear him.    
   
Sol tries to grab the assailant’s arms but they are only shadows. As with any dream, the content is slurred, and his fingers slip through them. The dream seems chalky and contoured, and out of place, but not dreamlike. Every subtle feature is made grand in this place. His senses heighten to a nervous extreme.    
   
One of the men punches her violently. Her jaw slackens awkwardly. Her strength wavers and she is pushed into the coffin. They hold her as they try to close the lid. Sol walks over to look. The women bites and claws as the coffin slides closer to unpierceable darkness. The room spins and he grows light headed.    
   
Sol grabs the coffin edge, stabling himself. The room hues with red, closing in. He leans over. Without warning, she pops up and grabs hold of him. Her eyes seem to stare into his soul. Sol’s vision targets, until all he can see are deep swirling pools of purple.    
   
His legs give out beneath him, falling hard the ground rises. Again, she is forced into the coffin. The lid booms closed, and the men chuckle with success. Such a fate is beyond cruelty, and he can still hear her stratches, and muffled screams. A ringing grows in Sol’s head into a deafening roar. It is her.    
   
Shadows cast, and slowly a bright shapely light breaks the darkness. It speaks to him; he cannot make out the vibrant hum. The voice jogs a foggy recollection. Something he has forgotten. Something he can almost recall. He needs to remember.    
   
What she says is soon clear. “It’s so dark. Save me. Please let me out. Only you can find the way.”    
   
He awakens in a cold sweat. He can still hear her, distantly. Her voice is out there, lingering on the wind. It begs him where to go. Jumping out of bed, he lights a lantern. He drags on through the cold dark night. His thoughts are single minded.    
   
Why am I even doing this? It is cold. It is spooky. This is insane.  The feeling swells with each footfall. Maybe I want to. Yes, that has to be the answer. What other answer could there be? I mean it’s not like I am going unknown into the woods at night. No, no, that cannot be it. It’s not as if I am going into the woods at night chasing some voice!    
   
He stops. “What am I doing?”    
   
He turns to go back home, but his feet continue to the voice. Even I cannot answer why he does so. The call is strong. Yet to any other it will sound like a heavy gust. Conscience is lost as a natural instinct lands his footing.    
   
When he loses the voice, he doubles back. Where it is clearest, he follows. Many hours go by until it grows loudest of all. There stands in his way a wall of fog. It is thick and silver. It runs a great ways.    
   
One of the moons hangs highest in the sky, tonight it wears magenta. It sends everything in crimson shades. Still, it does little to penetrate this fog in front of him. Sol begins to wonder if he is still dreaming. What else, save dreams, could bring these rays of red?    
   
As he takes the way forward, the fog grabs, pulling him in. There is no thinning inside, just a great haze, and heaviness making his movements slow. Whispers tingle his ears. They do not speak in understandable tongues. Their hope and desperation is evident. Whispers fade into one quiet tone until even that familiar sound dies.    
   
Out of the fog, he stares at the hill from the dream. It is all too unbelievable for the waking world. As if, by some unbelievable circumstance, he is reliving a memory not his own. But whose? How did it happen? For what purpose?    
   
He climbs the hill with mounting anxiety. Plunging into the forest, he examines the trees. They are tall and wide, most likely aspen or of a similar variety. No, this was not his forest. The cave mouth comes into view, the one in the dream had no door, but here it does. He gulps and opens it; stale air comes to greet him. His lantern extinguishes and he drops it here.    
   
Once he shuts the door behind him, the silence presses. Moving on, the cave opens into a larger space. There it sits, the stone, rising up like before. Carved in it are strange symbols and circles. They glow faintly towards the middle, towards its central point, the hole. It is both beautiful and foreboding.    
   
A skeleton sits propped up against it, an object glinting in its marrow digits. The skull looks to him as if by warning. Sol is passed warnings. Prying open the hand he frees the gem. It has a gorgeous golden hue with a splash of violet in its center. The facets are perfect.    
   
No way. Why am I still doing this?    
   
As he closes the distance to the hole, the violet brightens. Pushing it in, grinding sounds come and a purple light flushes the room. The eyes of statues plush with purple-jeweled eyes. They are figures of the estranged woman, but the faces have been chiseled off. Whether done intentionally or not is for you to decide. Sol skulks cautiously to the passage.    
   
The ground slopes at a steep angle, and he slips a few times. The floor gets steeper and he trips, and he tumbles all the way down. The light is intense, finding his feet, he moves towards it. Two mammoth doors stand blocking him, bits of light trickle through the keyhole and the space beneath the doors. With a rough tug, they give, but not gently, and he uses all his muscle to move them.    
   
The wood creaks as he pulls; such a sound is thrilling and frightful. The surge of light envelops him. He strains to see through the harsh purple. As he starts forward, it vanishes. Another step and he falls face forward. The pit smells of decay and rotting wood. This was not in his dream, nor would he wish it to be, nothing good comes from pits.    
   
Under him is the decaying corpse, lying still in earthen slumber. Fright fearing he tries to get out. There is a rustling; he freezes. The sound of rattling bones makes his feet work overtime. Climbing he struggles to get a grip. Stable stones give him little relief from the molder.    
   
The gaunty undead jerks upright, tattered silk swaying behind it. Clawing out of the pit it comes towards him. Moving away, he trips over his feet. He begins to shake and whimper. Sol thinks on what evil a mangled corpse may do to a piteous living body. Living death is on top of him, he feels its shallow breath. Shutting his eyes, he waits for the grave.    
   
Paralyzed he can only wait and fear. Peaking he sees its hand extend towards his face. Those boney digits shake with fury. A sound like a whimper and a purr flitters next to his ear. A candelabrum crashes some distance away. It jolts him from paralysis, startling the corpse. Now is his chance.    
   
Pushing her away, he runs to the exit. Behind him comes familiar screaming. Up the stairs, he climbs. Running to the stone, he snatches the gem, throwing it out of reach. The passage closes with a loud thud. He crumples to the floor. Sitting, panting in the dark--for there is no light to sooth. Sol sits there for what feels like hours.    
   
What have I seen? What have I done.    
   
After a time he regains his feet and shuffles, home. A mess of images rattles in his head. None of them leaves, no matter how hard he tries. The dread that takes him is like crushing ice from a distorted memory. The fog is no more. One has to wonder if it existed at all.    
   
Sol jumps at every shadow, shrieking at every noise. He stays clear of the main path, worried of horrors on the road. Running frantic, he snags briers and tangled roots. Twice he mistakes a stump for a distorted body and falls in anguish. Sol is distressed to nervous senses. Every creature torments him with its presence. Any noise sends him into a sputter.    
   
Trees jeer, watching him with invisible eyes. They seem to breathe in the touched sanguine light. His scalp prickles, as something seems to follow. Fright increases as something moves beside him. He runs as fast as he can, an addled brain breaching hysteria. He regains a steady pace, doing all to stop from screaming into oblivion.    
   
I have to keep moving. Cannot let it get me. Cannot let it follow me. It is everywhere. Haunting me and making sport out of it. If I stop now it will find me. What hope is this?    
   
The dregs of a figure cling to a branch in the tallest tree. It watches as Sol walks away. The rays of a red moon reverse time in this ragged creature. Grey hair turns white and vibrant. A skeletal frame regains softness and youth. An aged body grows serene and filled with springtime.    
   
Something of a female harvests, her eyes flash and swirl with purple. The moon seems to shine only for her. It catches in her skin and returns it to a regal black, touched with a pale grey. A torn cloth hides little of her supple body and smooth curves. She licks her lips at the smell of Sol.
   
With ease, she hits the ground with all the grace of a cat. Getting on all fours, she starts to crawl. The cloth shreds as muscle bulges, she changes in to a fertile creature. Her bones crack as they reshape. Tendons pulsate as blood flows, and pumps in her rejuvinated heart. Rapidly her body changes into a stronger deadly beast.    
   
Before the change is complete, she runs on all fours. She undertakes speed no human can. The scent leads her on, prey in sight. Where she was only a tiger remains. The kind only found on frozen tundras. Making her far more capable to hunt her target and do it well. A hunger comes over her an appetite for flesh.    
     
Sol can feel vile breath on his neck. Yet when he turns around there is nothing. There is only the sharp uneasiness of a dark forest. He begins to shake uncontrollably. Barely able to keep to his feet, they wobble and shake worst of all. Sweat beads down his forehead.    
   
He sighs as he sees the house. Falling to his knees in thanks, his home suddenly does not look so bad. He watches the scarlet moon as he catches his breath. Heart still races at seeing that dread mummy. Slowly his feet rise. A sense of joy is his.    
   
Caution is high, the kind one has when he has reached true fright. He steadies himself as he shakes, uselessly. Slowly he opens the door; it creaks, peaking in he looks about. It all seems fine, but his mind is not restful to that thought. What he expects to see is not here. There is nothing only his imagination, however, it is not kind.    
   
I am okay. I am okay. It is all going to be fine. I have nothing to worry about at all. It cannot find me here I am safe. The wind bellows outside. It is so quiet. He sets him into the chair. Quick fumbling breathes escape, is it from relief or paranoia? The sounds of crickets catch his ears. He takes one hard gulp and tries to put the images away again. It is barely successful.    
   
Drawing a hot bath, he brings himself clothes and a towel. The steam is inviting, imagination runs a foul, seeing an inhuman hand in the water. He shudders and gets in. The longer he soaks, the faster his fears dissipate. Once he gets out all notions of evil are gone. Sol heads to bed in hopes of calm dreams.    
   
The day begins charming enough. No undead creatures try to kill him, no dreams about ghouls. Wizards do not duel in the glade, talking about secret things. Even his simple breakfast feels more charming. The day starts with mind numbing chores, fantastic. First, he goes into town for supplies, he ignores the odd looks they give him.   
   
He does not listen to the townsfolk’s sniggers. Or the copious amount of vulgarity under there hushed breath. It is something he has had to deal with. He accepts it all in stride. It is about this time he wonders why he did not go with Alunda. Why should he have to put up with this?    
   
What is this to me?  I hate you all. Why do you judge me? I shouldn’t have to put up with this shit. he sighs. That is the way it is. This will never change.    
   
After resupplying his cabinets, he heads to the garden. The nightingar are near to bloom, showing their white tipped leaves. Breger’s root is nearly lifeless, hopelessly in need of water. But the gurdalane sits amidst all these things as a source of true inspiration. Its leaves lay bent to always reminess a bride’s wedding dress. There is a soft humming glow from its thumping heart.    
   
All of these plants need love and attention and he give it to them. First Sol goes about watering each. Afterwards he spends a half hour pulling weeds, but grows weary of the action and gives up completely. It was always something his mother used to love, but he never understood it. Even so, he keeps some space for it in his heart just as he keeps some space for her.    
   
Splitting wood is mindless work, but it keeps him from thinking about last night. By the time he finishes, it is nearly midday. Sweat drenches the front of his shirt. The refreshing air does him good, he looks to the door wondering if he should go inside. It seems such an unsatisfied notion to spend this gorgeous day inside. As he rests against the tree, it does not reenter his head.    
   
The weather is perfect, it is neither very hot nor cold. The sky is cloudy and he stares off into it, daydreaming about noting. His eyes droop down, fast and faster. Sleep is coming very easily, a sweet scent of dandelions wafts at his nose before the final plunge. Snoozing soundly he has no dreams, no visions, only comfort.    
   
He awakes stiffly as if from a sudden jolt. There is no reason he can discover. A soft tickle touches his cheek. He wipes at it to discover the single tear. It quickly falls out of his mind. After stretching, he makes his way home.    
   
An ebbing sleepiness is still on him. The door opens and closes behind Sol. A quick grunt escapes as he slams his toe into the coffee table. The throb leaves him at a slight limp. His mind is away but it flashes back at the sight of his room.    
   
As he comes upon his bed, his heart takes up a familiar rhythm. Sol’s face is gaunt and full of worry. A decomposed hand strays out from the covers, where the rest of the body has not. The moon’s magenta light rains through the window healing the hand to a smooth silky black. He begins to notice the scraps of rotten cloth scattered about the floor.    
   
Silently he creeps over to his bed. With hand outstretched, he grabs a corner of the covers. Carefully he unrolls them. Potent mixtures of relief and confusion mix in him. He does not want to believe what he is seeing but it is all too real.    
   
He jumps when she turns to rest on her side, and to unfortunately face his way. Naked shoulders are the only thing showing from a blanketed form. It is a wonder his heart does not wake her. The red fades rapidly from the moon. Its sister rises into complacent beauty, and the pair are together again. Just as the last sanguine drains, her eyes open wide and stare straight into him. Her purple glare sends doom.    
   
Sol shakes tremendously as she moves, much more than before. She will strike soon. His thoughts prey on his weak condition. A flash of horror swarms him as he sees her nails. They can only be for stabbing and swiping. Funny, for all his hopes of suicide, he is to be killed by something he never thought existed. Getting up quickly she comes at him with unnatural speed. Her nails stretch forward and body flexes.    
   
I am dead I am so dead. Suicide is here for me. I am happy for it. I can never survive the wide world. I was foolish to think so. I delayed it for a time but it’s here just the same. If only my circumstances were different. I wish I had friends and grandparents, or anyone. This is it!    
   
Her arms wrap around him. Her eyes fill with reverence, enamor, and passion. Her naked body presses hard against him, making it uncomfortable to breathe. Her head rubs back and forth on his chest; assuring herself it is all-real. She sobs joyously, hugging tighter. Her tears dampen his shirt.    
   
Kissing him attentively, she speaks. “It was so dark…so cold. Then I saw you. My love. My only.”    
   
He gets out of her grasp, clambering back. “What are you?”    
   
“I am a dark elf.”    
   
“G-go away!”    
   
She chuckles. “You’re so funny.”    
   
Her skin blurs the room, and it is spinning. It is hard for him to breathe. He tries to catch his breath. Sol’s breathing is erratic, the room blinks black. He stumbles towards the door. Losing control of his limbs, he slams to the floor, knocked out.    
   
A sharp crackle comes from the fire. He awakens in his rocking chair. Once awake he discovers her asleep, on top of him. Not knowing how to react, he lifts her and moves to get out of the house. He shudders. The door closes silently behind him.    
   
Sol thinks about running away. From his home, from it all, to just get away. Find a new place to live, somewhere she can never find him. The beginning of a journey he could call his own. Restraining this urge, he fills up with a feeling. Something he cannot identify, lurking just under the surface.    
   
Walking slowly he makes his way to the glade. The decaying body of the monster lies there still. Sol stands back enough so the smell remains thin. What inside could allow him to do that? How is that even possible? He stares at his hands in wonder.    
   
What am I? How was it possible? How could I not know about it? Did mom know? I am going nowhere fast; each question spawns a new question.    
   
Nothing makes sense, how could this happen to him a nobody. He sits for hours but it gains him nothing. First, he defeated an abomination with a mysterious power. He was offered to be an apprentice. Then he finds a dark elf in a cave, and she found her way in his bed. If he was not so freaked out, he might consider that good luck.    
   
He had never seen a cave like that in these parts before, nor the hill, either. And what about that strange moon? Did it all have a connection? Did it contribute to that mysterious power? Why is all of this happening to him? There is no connection he can find, what is he missing.    
   
Thinking to himself, he has a hard time believing all this has happened to him. Until he heard someone approaching him. He does not have to turn around to realize who it is. She sits next to him. Looking at her makes him nervous, mind flashing to her livid corpse.    
   
She speaks first. “I thought you would come home by—“    
   
He interrupts defensively. “Who are you? What do you want? Why me?”    
   
She smiles. “I am Elle--D’ereen and I love you.”    
   
Sol’s jaw drops to the floor. “B-but…I don’t even…how can you…I just….” He trails off at a loss for words.    
   
Before he can speak again, she places a finger over his mouth. “Your name is Sol.”    
   
He nods. As if that one name could wrap up everything about him and his life. D’ereen looks at the decapitated head, wondering who did this. Sol looks at her wondering what trouble he had found himself. What has he unleashed on this world.