An Inheritance of Fire

“Hey.”

Viria looked up, a greeting on the tip of her tongue, only to find the female elf– Variel– addressing Selerim. Though clearly older than either of them, she was still youthful compared to Valandor. The contrast struck her as odd, at times.

“Can I see your sword?”

Selerim, seated in his usual odd position, didn’t even look up. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t trust you– and it’s not mine to lend.”

“Ah.” Variel’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I was just curious.” Before she could turn away, Viria heard Selerim audibly sigh.

“Why?”

Variel shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of your weapons, but never up close.”

Selerim shook his head. “I won't let you hold it,” he began, “but if you have questions, just ask.”

The elf’s eyes brightened immediately. “Why isn’t there a sheath? Did you lose it?”

“No. Less weight to carry.”

“Does that make a difference?”

Selerim nodded. “It’s hard to tell, but it does.”

Variel pointed. “What about the grip?”

“It burned off. I don’t have any leather to replace it.”

“And the blade? Why is it so thick? To make it more durable?”

Another nod.

“Is that why the sword and hit are all one piece?”

Selerim’s nod was accompanied by a look of bewilderment, this time.

“And–”

Valandor cut in. “Easy.” His hand smacked down lightly on her head. “The day has yet to start in earnest. At least let me clear my ears before you talk them off.”

“But–”

“Go help Vyrna finish.”

Variel clearly wanted to protest, but she nodded and strode towards their companion.

“Thanks for humoring her,” Valandor said with a sigh.

“I thought she’d keep pressing,” Selerim said quietly.

The grizzled elf shook his head. ”You’ve seen too little of her to judge,” he admonished lightly. “Variel’s not a bad person. She just… lacks reserve. And she mistakes love for the sword as need for battle.”

Selerim was silent for a moment. “The other one. Vyrna. He’s your scout?”

“Aye.”

“But he’s a mage.”

“Aye.”

“Isn’t that…” he trailed off. “A waste?”

Valandor raised an eyebrow. “And what do you know of mages?”

“Nothing,” Selerim admitted.

“It’s just like everything else. Not all are born equal.” He smiled slightly. “And don’t let Vyrna’s easygoing attitude fool you. His lack of ambition stems from extreme cynicism.”

“...”

The elf crooked an eyebrow. “Were my words too complicated?”

Selerim glared at him. “I understand.”

“Sure you do.” Valandor waved a hand and turned away. “I need to make sure they don’t kill each other. Be ready to leave soon.”

The hollow’s eyes watched the elderly elf leave.

“You like him, don’t you?” Viria asked. Despite their bickering, Selerim wasn’t cold with Valandor like with the other two.

“I don’t know.” His expression darkened. “He reminds me of someone. That’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked softly.

The hollow shook his head.

Viria accepted it quietly. Despite his proclamation of trust, she knew their bond was tentative– and temporary. No matter how much he trusted her, he would leave– and whatever was between them would be gone forever. She clenched her fist. It’s for the better.

Theirs was a bond forged in violence and grief; there were too many painful memories associated with each other for it to be anything healthy. For now, though, she owed him the truth.

“Are all elves like him?” Selerim asked suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

Viria shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s… weird.”

She laughed, but it was true. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I expected to have more trouble. I think we got lucky.” She paused. “Will you walk with me today?” She asked quietly. She felt stupid for doing so. Selerim always walked within a few paces. It clearly struck him as odd, too, considering the confused look that passed over his face. “I need to tell you something,” she clarified.

The confusion cleared, and he nodded once.

Gwyn roused at the sound of someone knocking. “Who is it?” She asked, her morning voice rough.

“It’s me.” Her mother’s voice was hardly a whisper through the door, but it jolted her wide awake. If she was back, then…

“Sel!” Gwyn cried out, then bit her tongue as she threw the door open. It was still early. She craned her neck out the door, past her mother, to see– nothing. The hallway was empty. Anxiety lanced up through her heart and into her mind, causing tears to form. “Whe–”

Linua wrapped her arms around Gwyn, pulling her into a tight hug. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know how it looks. Don’t panic. Your brother is safe.” She pulled away to face her. “Take a deep breath. Try to stay calm– alright?”

Gwyn did as told.

In.

Out.

It helped, but only a bit. Her mother shuffled them both into the room, closing the door behind them, then knelt.

“I need you to be strong, okay? We don’t want to wake anyone. Selerim is alive. That’s the important part. Right?”

“But– what? Why– if he’s alive– where–” The words tumbled out of her mouth, disjointed and only barely comprehensible. Linua pulled her back into a hug, placing her head on Gwyn’s shoulder. “Breathe. Alright?

Gwyn took another breath.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“Where’s Selerim?” She asked, forcefully keeping her voice low. “Where’s my brother?” the tears welled up again–

Her mother bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

– Then started to fall.

“What do you mean?” Gwyn asked. Her breaths were short and choppy now, leaving her short of breath and gasping for more. “If you don’t know where he is, how do you know he’s alive?” She crumpled to the floor. Selerim was a constant in her life; a pillar. A protector Someone she could always rely on. The idea of a world without him was a bleak one. She felt her mother’s hands wrap around as she draped her body around Gwyn’s.

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “Just breathe.” Slowly– ever so slowly– Gwyn’s panic ebbed. It was excruciating: each of her breaths sent another wave of anxiety and fear rolling down her body.

But bit by bit, her mother’s warmth seeped into her. It didn’t drive away her fear– the stakes were too great for that– but mingled with it, making it easier to bear. Little by little, the black fuzz bordering her vision faded.

Gwyn straightened and looked her mother in the eyes. “What happened?” The question was hardly a whisper. Linua pulled her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” she answered earnestly. “But Cress is gone.”

“What?!” Gwyn’s voice rose. “What does that–”

“Shh,” her mother soothed. “It’s okay.”

Gwyn felt panic seize her again. Another breath kept it at bay– but only barely. “What happened?” She asked again, more forcefully this time.

“I don’t know,” Linua repeated gently.

Gwyn shivered as her mother’s breath tickled.

“Cress is gone,” she whispered again. “I don’t know what happened. The wall was gone. Everything was destroyed.” Her voice cracked. “Even our home.”

Gwyn felt her tears– and panic– well up again. “Then what–”

“Shh,” Linua whispered again. Pulling away slightly, she withdrew something from her cloak. A piece of wood. It was charred and burnt; though the surface was unrecognizable, it had clearly been part of something larger.

“What is this? Gwyn asked, taking it in her hands. The edges were misshapen and crudely cut. Someone had removed it in haste.

“Turn it around.”

She did as instructed. On the back was a symbol. Even turned awkwardly, she recognized it immediately. Three vertical lines cut diagonally by a fourth. They started using it after their father died.

“Where’d you get this?” She asked breathlessly.

“It was part of the dining table.”

“The dining table?”

“It was in your room,” Linua said softly.

“In my room?” Gwyn looked back down at the symbol. True enough, it was something unique to them, but… “That’s hardly anything.” Her voice broke as the tears flowed again. “If he’s alive, why hasn’t he found us?” Selerim wouldn’t leave her alone.

She was sure of it.

“There were no bodies,” her mother said softly. “None at all. They all just disappeared without a trace.” Gwyn felt Linua’s body shudder. “I know it’s not much,” she whispered. “But it’s something.” Another shudder. “Selerim wouldn’t leave us alone.”

Gwyn found herself enveloped in another embrace, tighter than the last. “It’s alright,” her mother said softly, rocking back and forth. “Cry if you need to.” Those words set something off inside Gwyn. All the built-up tears, anxiety, panic, and fear seized her as one.

She felt her mother’s hands on her back; heard her voice in the distance.

This time, it did little to soothe heer.

By the time her daughter stopped crying, Linua’s clothes were covered in tears and snot. She paid it no mind. Gathering her in both arms, she lay Gwyn on the bed and sidled in next to her. The piece of table was clutched in both her hands.

I always forget how young she is Linua thought sadly, stroking her hair. Gwyn was always so calm and collected, it was easy to forget that she was just a girl who’d lost her father– and now, maybe her brother.

Linua’s chest tightened. Don’t think like that, she scolded herself. He’s alive. He has to be.

… But what if he isn’t?

Tears welled in her eyes. It was impossible to deny the possibility– the likelihood, even. Linua wrapped her arms around Gwyn and pulled her close, careful not to wake her. She felt guilty, but there was nothing else to be done. Better to prepare her for the possibility than watch her break under pressure.

The tears fell slowly, first, then quickened. Linua cried silently, not wanting to wake her daughter.

Where are you?

“We need to talk,” Viria said quietly.

“About what?”

“Everything.” The elf’s voice quieted as she bit her lip. “What did my uncle tell you?”

Selerim’s pace broke momentarily at the sudden question. “Not much,” he answered slowly. “Why do you ask?”

Viria fell silent beside him. Just as he was about to turn–

“I should start with this.” She took an audible breath. “You’re free to return to your family.” Her voice was forced, but cold. Impersonal. “Any semblance of duty given to you has long since been fulfilled. Your task here is done; I have no right to ask anything more of you. They,” she gestured to the other three ahead. “Will see me safe to the Elder Glades. With or without you.”

Selerim looked down at Viria. Her head was down, now, face hidden by her hair as she stared at the ground. In truth, he’d considered parting ever since they found Valandor, but it was surprising to see the elf broach the subject first.

“Why?” He asked.

“...” She fell silent again. “I’m not being fair to you.” Her voice was barely audible. “You know nothing, yet you’ve traveled away from your family to see me safe– without even knowing what any of this is all about. No promise is worth that. Not even ones made to the dead. To pretend otherwise is selfish. Of both myself– and Vane.”

Selerim saw her knuckles whiten at that. Instead of responding, he turned his gaze back to the front, watching the other elves absent-mindedly.

“It’s not,” he agreed slowly. In the corner of his eye, he saw Viria shrink further.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” he continued. She looked up at that, but he fell silent, considering his next words. “My mother and sister are the most important people in the world to me. I don’t like being away from them,” he finally said. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

Selerim took a deep breath. It brought memories with it. Fleeting moments of happiness that now lay as ash. The voices came with them. Blaming. Accusing.

“Senri, Corvus, Verad, Saya…” he trailed off. “They’re dead. And not just them.” An edge of bitterness crept into his voice. “Everyone is. And I don’t even know why.” The burning hatred welled back up. He stemmed the flow, but just barely, letting it creep into his voice.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I trust you, but only just. There’s still a price to pay.” He softened his voice. “I told your uncle I would see you home safe. That’s a part of it, but only one. I owe that to the dead, and more.” Selerim paused. “And if your people refuse to pay the price, it will be all the greater.”

Those ominous words hung between them for a moment. Finally, Viria raised her head. “Alright,” she said softly. There was a hint of gratitude in her voice. “But you should wait to decide until after you’ve heard everything.” Despite those words, she fell silent again, clearly lost in thought. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m just trying to think of where to start…” She bit her lip. “I suppose the beginning is the best.”

She drew another, deep breath.

“You know there was a war.”

He nodded.

“How much do you know about it?”

“Very little,” Selerim admitted. “Corvus told me bits and pieces, but not much. He had to take different routes, but Cress was so far away that not much else mattered.” He paused. “Until Verad’s parents got caught in the middle.”

He inadvertently reached for his friend’s sword as images of Verad’s tear-stained face came rushing back. “That was a bad day.”

Viria was silent for a moment. “I know it means nothing to you,” she said slowly. “But let me apologize on behalf of my people.”

“You had nothing to do with it,” Selerim said tightly.

“... Was your father with them that day?” The elf asked quietly.

“No. He died during a hunt.” His chest tightened at the self-spoken reminder. It was uncommon, but it happened. Those were the risks, after all. Selerim shook his head. “Sorry. Keep going.”

Viria looked skyward for a moment, consideration clear on her face. She swept one hand out over their surroundings. “I told you that space is the most important resource for us,” she began quietly. “It’s true. But you can clearly see that we have more than we need.”

Her eyes wandered out across the trees. “And yet we keep expanding our forest. My words were true enough: someday, all this will be home to an elf. And it protects us from the darkness beyond. But while the forest may be ours, the world is not.”

It took Selerim a moment to parse her meaning. “The humans.”

Viria nodded. “Just so.” She took an audible breath. “The humans have their own way of expanding their cities. But ours is indiscriminate.” She swept her arm again. “We expand in every direction– slowly, but surely. And our people started much earlier. Sooner or later, our land will overtake theirs.”

The elf sighed. “So they attacked. And, truthfully, who can blame them?” Her pace slowed slightly. “As the forest grows, so does our strength as a nation. Being part of another nation, another race, during that… it’s scary. Even our own people realized their mistakes after the war. That’s why the treaty was signed.” Viria paused. “You do know about that, don’t you?”

Selerim shook his head.

“We agreed not to expand in the direction of their kingdom.”

He took a moment to consider everything. Most of it was new to him, but not all. But…. “I don’t understand,” he began. “What does this have to do with you? Why were you–” Selerim forced himself to stop as frustration crept into his voice. “Why were you in Cress?” He asked finally, unable to keep it all out.

Viria, at least, seemed not to notice– or at least pretended not to. “I mentioned before that the forest is split into Groves right?”

Selerim nodded.

“As valuable as all this space is, it makes it difficult to govern. So we divide it into Groves, each with its own separate…” she trailed off. “Not ruler. Their power is far from absolute. Overseer would be a more accurate term. We call them Grovetenders.”

“So like Corvus?”

Viria nodded. “Close, but not exactly. Corvus seemed more respectful to others. More… approachable.” She smiled sadly. “He was always kind to us. But,” she continued, “their role is to oversee their Groves. Each one has a role to play for Vasoria as a whole.” She paused. “They’re meant to be equal to the other. As their territory grows, so does their power, but…”

Selerim caught on. “One of them had to stop expanding.”

She nodded. “Right.”

“I still don’t unde–”

Viria stopped walking. “My father was that Grovetender.”

Selerim made it a few more steps before her words caught up to him. Stopping, he turned to face her.

“... You don’t seem too surprised.”

He hesitated. “I am,” he admitted. “Just… not a lot. I knew you had a strange upbringing. You’re smart. Smarter than me. That much is obvious, but…” he trailed off.

Viria smiled. “I’m also completely clueless?” Her laugh held a trace of bitterness. “You’re right. I had a very strange upbringing– and I imagine my sister’s was much the same. Vane was the one who raised me.”

“Was your father also…?”

“In the war?” She shook her head. “No. But my mother was.” Her voice tightened. “She was the first to die. I don’t remember her– not even her face. Perhaps that’s a small blessing.” Viria resumed her stride.

“My father had his own role to play. From what my uncle told me, he was a brilliant strategist. So brilliant, in fact, that he decided it was his true calling.” The same bitterness from before was overwhelming, now. “He locked himself away in his chambers, devoted only to the war efforts. Perhaps he thought that a victory would allow him to retain influence.”

She shook her head. “Whatever the case, our people’s appetite for war was quickly sated. My father went mad as a result, and died soon after. All the blood, sweat, and tears he’d shed– the time he’d given up with his daughters– all for nothing.” Viria laughed. It was an empty, bitter sound. “Perhaps if he loved us more than the war he would still be here.”

Selerim resumed his pace alongside hers, unsure what to say. But before he could speak, the elf shook her head. “But that’s beside the point.” Her voice was devoid of emotion. “What’s important is what happened after.”

“Is there a new Grovetender?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she responded simply.

“What? Isn–”

Viria interrupted him. “Like I said, I had a very strange upbringing, although sheltered may be a better word. Vane taught me almost everything, but I had a handful of tutors throughout the years. My uncle never seemed outright fearful, but he was always watching for… something. I don’t know what.”

“But what does this–”

“When a Grovetender dies, their heir takes their place,” she said. “Our people hold tradition dear.”

“So…” Selerim trailed off. “Your sister is the Grovetender?”

The elf shook her head. “We were both deemed too young– which, honestly, is still true. I can’t speak for my sister, but I’m no leader– or ruler.” She sighed. “The fact that we’re twins complicates things even further. The oldest is given the position, but…”

“You two are the same age.”

“Almost to the minute. Truthfully, I would happily cede to my sister– or anyone else– but the Grovetenders had other ideas.” Viria’s eyes became distant. “Things changed after the war ended. Even as a child, I saw the scars it left in its wake. I doubt they’ve completely healed. Of course, it changed the Grovetenders, too. According to my uncle, at least. He believes they pushed my father to abandon us, and ultimately, to his death. All as a means to claim his territory. There’s no real evidence, but I suspect it’s correct.” She sighed. “I’m not sure I care. My father made his choice regardless.”

“I’m sure he loved you.”

Viria smiled wryly. “You sound like my uncle.” She was quiet for a moment. “I miss him.” She sighed again, then shook her head. “Sorry. That’s not fair.”

“Stop apologizing,” Selerim said softly. “I get it.”

“Do you have any questions, then?”

He thought for a moment. "They tried to kill you. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”

Viria laughed. It was an empty sound, devoid of emotion. “What’s the life of one girl in the face of power? Two, rather. I imagine they’re after my sister, as well. It's ironic. My uncle's death... changes things. Avenging him would have meaning. Purpose.”

Selerim’s face twisted. “That’s disgusting.”

“Perhaps,” Viria said quietly. “But such is our situation.” She sighed. “Any more questions?”

“... That doesn’t explain why you were exiled.” Selerim paused, considering his next words. Viria stopped short beside him. “It was an accident!” She cried out. “I love Veile– I would never– I woul–” Selerim stopped beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That’s not what I meant.”

The elf took a breath. “I know,” she said. Raising one hand, she pointed past him. “I think Valandor wants to stop for the night.” Turning, Selerim saw the others a ways ahead, arms waving above their heads.

“Just… think about it, alright?” Viria said quietly as she pushed past him. “There’s nothing keeping you here anymore.”

Varus looked up at the sound of knocking. “Come in.” The heavy door swung open smoothly, revealing an average-height woman. Her white hair was eye-catching on its own, but what stood out the most were her blue eyes.

“Linua,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I rushed back.” The hollow’s voice was quiet.

“Have you already informed your daughter?”

She nodded once.

“And your son? Reuniting with his sister?”

Something about her posture changed at that. It became stiffer– more rigid. “I need to ask you something,” she said. “My– the fact that you’re treating my daughter– have you mentioned it to someone? Anyone at all?”

Varus shook his head, confused. “No,” he said. “I take my patient’s privacy seriously.” The shadows leaped in response to his words. They gathered on Linua’s shoulder, revealing a small black Reaver– a duskwing. Despite its pitch-black visage, it appeared calm.

“I take it something happened to your son,” he said slowly, lowering his hands.

“Not quite.” Her voice was thin. “Cress– our village– is gone. Destroyed. Turned to rubble.”

Varus’ eyes widened. “You saw this yourself?”

Linua nodded.

“I promise I had nothing to do with this.” He said carefully.

The Reaver on her shoulder stayed perfectly still, then vanished as the hollow clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I had to be sure.”

“I understand,” Varus said slowly. “And what of your son?”

Her expression darkened. “He’s alive. I’m sure of it.”

“...” Varus sighed. “You’re welcome to stay until you find accommodations of your own.”

Linua’s head snapped up. “We’ve asked too much of you already.”

“Nonsense. She’s my patient– and guest. You are her mother.”

Silence fell between them again. Finally. “I’m sorry.” Said Linua. “And thank you. We won’t stay long.”

Varus waved a hand, then reached for his teacup. “Is there anything else to discuss?” Linua shook her head, then pushed through the doorway with one final apology. Varus watched her disappear over the rim of his cup– and let go of the knife he’d grabbed under his desk.

He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.

“Voja…”

“What are you doing?” Viria asked Valandor. The old elf held Vyrna’s sword in his hands. Though long, it still looked too short for him.

“Teaching her.” He pointed to Variel. Though she stood perfectly still, the elf’s shoulders practically shook with excitement. “It’s been too long already. If I don’t sate her soon, I fear she’ll run me through from behind.” He paused. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like. I’m not sure how useful a hollow’s lessons will be for an elf. I’m sure you could benefit.”

Viria was tempted. It would be good to move, to excise the misery her talk with Selerim had dredged back up from the depths, but she shook her head. “I’m tired,” she said. She had no real place with them.

Valandor seemed to understand. “You’re welcome to join us if you change your mind,” he said gently, then strode off with Variel in tow. The sound of clashing blades rose soon after they stopped.

Viria sat down, content to watch. Their proficiency was beyond hers. That much was clear. Their strikes were quicker, sharper, and had no glaring openings.

“... They’re good.”

A quiet voice drew her attention from the side. Selerim sat with his back to the fire. His posture was different than usual, but no less nerve-wracking. His sword lay across his knees , and his elbows were pressed atop. As always, the proximity of his flesh to the edge made Viria’s skin crawl. She tried to ignore it.

“Right?” She asked quietly. “Who do you think is better?”

“The girl is better with the sword,” the hollow responded quietly, “but she’s too honest. Valandor will win.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the old elf shifted his grip, grabbing a knife from his belt with one hand. Crossing both blades, he caught Variels’ in the concave, and with a vicious pulling motion, disarmed her.

“See.”

Viria watched as Variel retrieved her weapon.

“... She looks happy.” It was true. Her mouth formed a bright smile despite the vicious clash she’d just engaged in.

“Mhm.”

There was an emotion in Selerim’s expression that took her a moment to place.

Longing.

With a deep breath, Viria pushed past her trepidation. “Did you think about what I said?” Shadows flickered across the hollow’s face, warped by the firelight that shrouded him. “Yes,” he said finally.

“And?”

“I’m not going to leave you,” he said flatly.

His words caused joy– and then guilt.

“Why not? There’s nothing for you here. Valandor is right– we belong to two different worlds.”

Selerim looked up at her. “You talked to him about this? Is that why you told me everything?”

“I– Yes.” Viria looked down guiltily. The hollow looked back towards the sparring elves. He had that look again– that annoyingly thoughtful one.

“I knew you weren’t telling me something,” Selerim started. “I never pushed it because it didn’t matter. And I wanted you to tell me on your own.” His voice was quiet, but not blaming.

“I’m sorry,” Viria said quietly.

“I keep telling you to stop apologizing.” A note of annoyance crept into his voice as he looked back at her. “Do you want me to leave?” His voice was perfectly neutral.

Despite herself, Viria’s pulse rose. “No!” She exclaimed. “No,” she repeated, more quietly. “That’s not it.” I don’t want to be alone. “I want you to do what’s best for you,” she said earnestly. “And I think that’s returning to your family.”

Selerim fell silent. “I care about you,” he said suddenly. Viria’s pulse quickened again. “In what way I don’t know, but I do. I wouldn't feel right just leaving you behind.” He paused. “But you’re right. My place is with my family.” The love in that last word made Viria envious. “I’ll help you. But after that–”

“We’ll never see each other again.” Viria smiled sadly. “I understand.” They would never have any true semblance of friendship. Selerim said nothing. Neither of them was at fault– it was just how things were.

“Hey!” A shout drew both their attention. Variel had approached during their conversation. Valandor still stood by their makeshift arena, sword laid haphazardly over his shoulders. “I saw you watching us. Any tips on beating the old man? He seems to hold you in high regard.”

Viria nearly laughed at Selerim’s look of surprise.

“... Stop focusing so much on his weapon.”

Valandor guffawed in the distance, and Variel’s face reddened. “Shut up!” She huffed. This time, Viria did laugh. Variel’s face reddened even further, but before she could say anything more, Valandor strode up behind her, ruffling her hair.

“Don’t pay her any mind, lad.”

She smacked his hand away.

“I’ve been telling her the same thing.”

“And what about you?” Variel asked hotly, pointing to Selerim. “Do you really think you can beat–” She cut off as Valandor lightly smacked her.

“Alright, let’s stop here,” he said dryly. “I’d wager I best the boy in experience, but that only matters so much– and not enough to face down a hollow.”

Variel’s expression fell.

“Are hollows really that strong?” All three sets of eyes turned towards her.

“You’ve got one guarding you, and you don’t even know it?” Valandor shook his head. “Physically, they’re stronger than any other race.”

“I thought the dwarves were.”

The grizzled elf snorted. “That’s just a myth. The dwarves may devote themselves to their craft, but theirs is an expression of skill. Not strength. No, the hollows hit harder– it isn’t even close.”

“I see.”

Viria could still remember how Selerim’s hand felt around her throat.

“That said,” Valandor continued, “I’d welcome the opportunity to cross blades with you. Only if you’re willing, of course.”

Selerim visibly hesitated, then shook his head. “There’s no point,” he said quietly. “You’ll lose. I still don’t trust you. I’m not a swordsman– and my weapon will damage yours.”

“Then why were you sparring with her?” Variel pointed to Viria. He waved his sword comically. “And besides, these things are everywhere.”

“I taught her while we traveled. Just the basics. We spar so she doesn’t forget.”

Valandor raised an eyebrow. “And she’s still in one piece?”

Selerim glared at him. “You saw us spar. She needed to learn how to defend herself.”

“Every day the mystery of how you two met becomes even greater.” Though spoken casually, Valandor’s words caused his expression to darken– something the old elf noticed.

“Sorry,” he apologized gently. “It looks like I’ve stirred something I shouldn’t have. I’ll leave you two be. Be ready for tomorrow; we’ll close in on the Elder Glades before long. Come, Variel. Let’s continue.”

Viria noticed Selerim’s eyes following them back. “He didn’t mean anything by it,” she said softly. “Just…”

“I know,” the hollow interjected. “He’s just weird.”

She looked back towards where the two elves sparred. In the short time they’d known the grizzled elf, Valandor had already become something of an enigma. He seemed more world-weary and tired, but there was something more underneath the facade.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “He is.”