An Inheritance of Fire

Dusk had fallen by the time the group reached the Elder Glades. Even in the dying light, it was easy to tell. The change was sudden, rather than gradual. The trees became larger– if such a thing was truly even possible– but what changed the most was their color. Their bark, previously a mottled brown-green, was now a dark bluish-green.

This new color was far from uniform. While some trees were closer to green, others favored blue, but they all shared one thing: their scars. Though they varied in size, shape, and location, every tree bore at least one. A few had been pierced through altogether. “These are the Elder Glades,” Viria said, watching Selerim carefully.

His violet eyes swept across the landscape once.

I wonder what it looks like to him, Viria wondered. His ability to see in the dark had long since piqued her curiosity, but it seemed to ridiculous to even consider asking while in Umbra. Now, though…

“Why’d they change color?” The hollow’s voice was tinged with curiosity.

“I told you, remember? The forest gets older the deeper you go.”

His brow furrowed. “What does…”

“Elder–” Viria enunciated the word, “– Glades. Think about it.” It only took him a moment.

“Your sword.”

She nodded.

“Why is it a different color?”

“Supposedly, essence is what gives it the color,” Viria answered. “Something small like my uncle’s sword just doesn’t have enough for it to matter. It just takes in more when it’s damaged.”

Selerim’s eyes drifted down to his wrist, where Vane’s bracelet sat. “It’s hard to believe something so small is so valuable.” Then flicked back up. “It seems like there’s… so much of it.”

“I told you we don’t cut the trees down, right?”

He nodded.

“Elder trees are hardier than the young ones. It can take years– decades, even– for a single limb to fall. But,” Viria’s heart tightened. “You’re not entirely wrong either. A number of trees were felled at the height of the war– by both nations. Supposedly, generations worth of magical research was conducted on them.” Her stomach churned at the thought.

“... Is that why the trees are damaged?”

A third voice cut in. “Not quite.” It was Valandor. One hand landed on Selerim’s head. He promptly smacked it away. Shaking his hand in mock pain, he looked at Viria with one eyebrow raised. “I see your uncle didn’t neglect your education. Good.”

His eyes took on a faraway look. “We were losing the war. Felling the trees ourselves gave us the means of pushing them back, but I fear it may have been the bloodier option.”

Selerim looked towards him. “What do you mean?”

Valandor looked down at him, and for just a moment, there was a fire in his eyes. “We are elves, boy.” His voice was flinty. “The forest is dear to us.” Then he sighed, and it was gone. “Think about it. The forest is large. Umbra is larger– and more hostile. Dragging troops and supplies through all of that, and then asking them to fight… you can only do that for so long. It worked thanks to surprise.”

The old elf’s tone grew somber. “And suppose the humans did win. Then what? How are they supposed to rule a conquered people from so far away? The war was fueled by fear. No one in control put any real thought into it.”

“Do you blame them?” The hollow asked softly.

Valandor snorted. “Are all your people this brazen, or are you a special case? But no,” he shook his head. “I don’t blame them.”

“Why not?”

“We were growing faster than them. Not everyone can traverse the darkness so easily,” he answered lightly. “Relying on the goodwill of another nation… it’s scary. Especially when we know so little about one another.” He waved a hand. “Enough about that. We’re going to stop for the night.”

Selerim tilted his head. “I thought we were going to a town.”

“We are. We’ll arrive by nightfall and leave after midday.”

“Why midday?” His voice was tinged with frustration. “Isn’t that a waste of time? Why not leave sooner?”

“Because we need supplies,” Valandor responded calmly. “And I need to make a report.”

Viria’s panic rose. “What–” The old elf cut her off.

“All I’m going to say is that we’re seeing two stragglers to their destination. It’s true enough. I have no intention of getting wrapped up in a power struggle.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Valandor nodded once, then strode off.

“What is it?” Viria asked, noticing Selerim’s frown.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that the first people we meet are so willing to help?”

“I…” she trailed off. “You’re right. I didn’t think about it until now. It’s a good thing, though.”

“If you say so.” His eyes turned back to their surroundings.

Viria followed his gaze. “What does it look like to you? The forest.”

Selerim’s lavender eyes turned to her. “What do you mean?”

She struggled to find the right words. What am I trying to ask? Viria wondered. What the darkness looks like to him? That was a part of it, but only one. “I’m curious,” she admitted slowly. “About what it looks like to you in the dark, but… I guess I’m asking what it looks like to someone who isn’t an elf.” A sense of nostalgia welled up as her eyes swept across the Elder Glades. “We’re elves,” she said, repeating Valandor’s earlier words. “The forest will always be our home. I just wonder what you see, when you look at it.”

“...” Selerim was silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said a moment later. “I feel out of place. But I think I know what you mean.”

“You do?” She asked, surprised.

He nodded once. “Being out of Umbra feels weird.” His voice softened. “But I didn’t realize what it did to others.”

Viria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I see.” Up ahead, Valandor waved to them. A small fire flickered next to him. “Let’s see what he wants.”

“Where do you need to go?” Valandor asked as the two sat. He looked at them over the top of a large pot. It was made of metal; as was the ladle in his hand, but the old elf was unbothered. “One of the few perks of being tortured,” he said dryly, noticing Viria’s curiosity. “Metal instruments are much easier to cook with.”

He filled a wooden bowl and held it out to Viria. “Here.”

She accepted it gratefully, cupping it in both hands. After so much time traveling, their shared meals were a highlight. Valandor was a good cook, though his meals were usually simple.

Viria brought it to her lips. The broth was rich and savory; not the thin, watery taste she’d become accustomed to, and the roasted vegetables were soaked in spices. She drained half the bowl before setting it down.

“Easy there,” Valandor chuckled. “Don’t choke on your food.” He waited for her to finish, then refilled her bowl. “There’s plenty left, but hopefully I’ll be able to make something better once we resupply.” His eyes flicked to Selerim, who retrieved a skewer from the fire and dropped a handful of meat chunks into his bowl.

“Must you do that?” The grizzled elf asked. “The smell makes my stomach churn.”

“I don’t need it,” Selerim answered. “But your meals are too small for me.” He stirred his bowl for a moment, then brought a spoonful to his mouth. “How much meat is left?”

Viria willed a thread of essence into her bracelet. “About… half. Are you going to need more?” She asked, concerned.

He shook his head. “It’s nice to have, but I don’t need it. Not for a long time, anyways.”

“Alright.”

“Just as well,” Valandor chimed in. “No elf keeps livestock.”

Selerim turned to face him. “Why not?” He asked after another spoonful.

“It’s a waste of resources,” the old elf answered. “We can’t eat meat.”

“But you’re wearing leather.”

“Correct. Valandor shifted his posture. “Which is another reason the war was so brutal for us both. We still need animal goods, but raising livestock ourselves is a waste when we can’t eat them afterward. There’s just too much waste.”

Viria nodded in agreement. “My uncle said the same. Leather, bone… we can’t use metal, so materials like those are important for us. You can only do so much with wood.” She sighed. “Our allergy makes life difficult, at times.” She closed her eyes, trying to recall Vane’s lessons. “We mostly trade… crops in return,” she continued. “We have more space. And more sunlight.”

“Aye,” Valandor interjected. “We may be of different species, but each of us only stands to gain from trading with the other.” His voice quieted. “Yet another argument in favor of short-sightedness.” The old elf shook his head, then cleared his throat. “Eck. Me and my mouth. Where do you need to go?” He asked again. “I assume the exile has something in mind.”

“Vristala,” Viria said quietly. The name brought a torrent of emotions with it.

Valandor raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Vristala is only a few days away. We’ll see you there,” he smiled wryly, “but you’ll have to forgive us if we don’t stick around.”

Viria nodded. “I understand.”

“Why?” Selerim asked from the side. “What’s wrong with… Vristala?” He stumbled over the name.

“It’s where I grew up,” she answered. “But it’s also where the trees were cut. It’s a… dark place. Not many elves would willingly choose to live there. Which, of course, is why we lived there.”

“You’ll understand when you see it,” Valandor said solemnly. His mouth was crooked into a lopsided smile. “Or perhaps not. You are not an elf, after all. But,” he pointed at Selerim. “We need to talk about you. Not the exile over here.”

The hollow’s brow furrowed. “What about me?”

Valandor’s look turned incredulous. “She,” he jabbed his finger at Viria, “is one thing. She’s an elf. If people don’t look at her too closely, they’ll just think her another elf. You on the other hand,” he pointed to Selerim now. “Stick out. Badly. The best thing for you to do tomorrow is to keep your hood up, don’t say a word, and if you’re also unwilling to give her your weapon,” he jabbed at Viria again. “Then at least keep it hidden. And don’t even think about playing with your pet Reaver tomorrow.”

Selerim nodded once. “Okay.”

“Of course y– eh?” Valandor frowned. “What did you say?”

“I said okay.”

His frown deepened. “Well… that’s not what I expected.”

“Did you think I was going to say no?”

The grizzled elf nodded. “Truthfully? Yes.” He paused. “You realize that we’re here to keep an eye on you, right? The girl may be an exile, but only one of you is a foreigner.”

“I know,” the hollow responded coolly.

“And you know we couldn’t keep you here if we tried, eh?” Valandor chuckled. “Fair enough. I suppose I owe you my thanks, then.” He stood. “I’ll leave you two be.” And with that, stepped back to his sleeping companions.

Viria yawned. The warm meal was making her sleepy.

“You should sleep.”

“What about you?” She asked, rubbing one eye blearily.

“I still need to finish eating.” Selerim brought another spoonful to his lips. “I’ll clean up after. Just sleep.”

“Alright.”

Valandor was right. They reached the town just as night fell. Selerim frowned. “It looks so… normal.” He adjusted his hood to block more of the sunlight. After the spectacle of arriving in both Vasoria and the Elder Glades, he’d expected something more… fantastical. A village perched among the giant trees, perhaps, or even homes carved into their trunks.

Instead, it looked like Cress– perfectly normal.

Viria turned to face him from under her hood. “What did you expect?” She asked curiously.

“I…” Selerim shook his head, embarrassed. “Never mind.” The elf seemed about to say something more, but Valandor strode up.

“There won’t be too many people,” he said reassuringly. “It’s still better that you stay hidden, but the town is really only home to an innkeeper, military personnel, and a handful of farmers.”

“Military?” Viria turned to look up at him. “Why the military?”

“A lot of villages were destroyed in the war,” Valandor answered. “The land is still valuable… and they act as quarters for patrol units.”

“Are there a lot of patrol units?”

The grizzled elf nodded.

“Why spend so much time patrolling nothing?” Selerim asked. It was something that bothered him since they met the scarred elf. The village in front of him was the first sign of others that he’d seen. Everything else was empty, save for the trees.

Valandor’s expression turned grim. “We don’t want to get caught off guard again.” He sighed. “Stories are passed through generations. I suspect it will take some time until either of our nations are truly comfortable with one another.”

“...” Selerim stayed silent as they stepped into the village. There were more street lanterns than in Cress, and the homes had curved roofs instead of pointed; but every other difference was less pronounced.

Valandor seemed familiar with the village; he led them to a nearby building without so much as breaking stride. It was larger than all the rest, and had many more windows set into its side.

Selerim let his hand trail over the wall as they passed. The wood was almost perfectly smooth; his fingers didn’t catch or snag in the slightest. A number of small lamps illuminated the interior. Not the enclosed flame he was used to, but a small, circular stone that radiated a soft yellow light. An elf sat behind a desk, silently reading something. An assortment of furniture was scattered haphazardly across the room.

Valandor strode up to the desk, pulling something from the folds of his cloak. It smacked dully against the table as he set it in front of the other elf. “Five rooms. And a resupply, please– but just for three. He gestured to Viria and Selerim. “These two are just a couple of stragglers. I’ll file a report tomorrow.” The elf seated behind the desk glanced up for a moment. “Certainly.”

He rummaged around for a moment before handing something to Valandor. “I’ll make sure your supplies are here by tomorrow morning. Be sure to pick them up.”

The old elf nodded. “My thanks.” Turning, he tossed a small item to Selerim, then Viria. It was a small wooden chip with a small symbol carved into it. Before rejoining them, he retrieved whatever it was he’d placed on the desk. “Those are your room keys,” he explained. “Just hold it up to any door. If it’s not taken, you’ll be able to enter. If you can’t, then find another room.”

Selerim glanced at Viria. She seemed unsurprised.

“Any questions?”

He shook his head.

“Sleep in, if you can. We won’t leave until noon tomorrow.” Valandor handed Vyrna and Variel their keys. “I need to go check in with the patrol commanders..” And then left the building.

Selerim turned the key in his hands. “Will this really work?” He asked uncertainly.

Viria nodded. “It will.”

“Alright.” He looked up. “So I just… pick a door?” The room stretched abnormally far on both sides; wooden doors lined both walls of each hall.

“Mhm.” She strode to the nearest door, key held in front of her. There was a click as she stopped in front of the smooth wood, and the door swung open. “See?” The elf stepped halfway into her room, then paused. Her uncertainty was clear. “Then… good night.” Selerim nodded.

“Good night.”

Her door clicked shut.

Selerim turned the key in his hands for a moment before holding it up to the door across from Viria’s room. There was no sound. The door stayed shut. Feeling somewhat fooling, he stepped to the right and held the key up again.

This time, the door swung open with a click.

Sighing in relief, Selerim pushed his way in. Though smaller than his bedroom, the room was still plenty large. A full-size bed was pressed against the longer wall, and a small desk sat at its foot. Letting his pack fall to the ground, Selerim sat on the edge of the bed and fell backward.

It was soft. The scent of fresh wood tickled his nostrils as he turned onto his side. Laying in a bed was an odd feeling after traveling. There was more to it, though– something that bothered him on a deeper level.

Viria. After so much time around her, it felt odd to be separated by this– even though all that lay between them was two doors and a hallway. Sitting back up, Selerim cupped his head in his hands. No. It was more than that. It was the silence, the stillness, the… loneliness. Anxiety. Their journey through Umbra was defined by violence, death, and uncertainty. Being able to stop and just think, felt… wrong.

Selerim’s pulse rose. He forced it to steady, stemming the tide of memories as they came rushing back. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. He gritted his teeth. Even if he kept the memories– the images– at bay, he couldn’t do the same with his emotions. He tried anyway.

Unsuccessfully.

He lost control of his breathing as tears gathered. Selerim tried to stand, then stumbled, crashing to the floor as his vision blurred and trembled. He stayed there for a moment, fingers digging into his temple, trying to focus on the pain. It worked.

Slowly.

Bit by bit, his vision returned, and his pulse steadied. The anxiety and panic that seized him moments ago were gone– all that remained in their place was an exhausted sense of numbness.

Selerim lay there for a moment longer before standing. Though weak, his legs didn’t give out. He stepped unsteadily towards the window. Throwing it open, he looked across the surroundings once, then whistled. Nyx appeared on the window sill in a flurry of shadow.

Coaxing her onto his hand, he closed the window and returned to his bed, Wyrd cradled against his chest. Selerim sat with his back to the wall. Nyx trembled against his fingers as he stroked her neck, but her presence gave him comfort.

“Thanks, girl,” he whispered, closing his eyes and slumping against the wall. Another minute, and Selerim fell into an uneasy sleep.

When Viria woke, she instinctively looked for Selerim– then remembered where they were. Shaking her head, she threw the covers off of her and turned in the bed, letting one arm dangle off of its side.

His absence felt strange.

Sighing internally, Viria pushed that feeling to the side. Just a few days. She recalled Valandor’s words. Am I really ready? Her emotions were complicated. It would be good to see the home she and Vane shared, but also painful. She sighed. It doesn’t matter.

Seating herself on the bed’s edge, Viria pulled her boots back on. I wonder if the others are back up. Retrieving her key from the desk, she pulled the door open. Selerim stood in another doorway across the hall, one to the right.

“Did you sleep well?”

The hollow rubbed his eyes, then shook his head. “It felt weird.”

Viria laughed. Her own experience was much the same. “I did, too.” She turned to look down the hall. The others were nowhere to be seen. “Have you seen Valandor?”

Selerim shook his head. “I just woke up.”

“I wonder–”

“Up already?” As if on cue, Valandor’s voice gruff voice cut her off. “Looks like my idea of letting you two sleep in didn’t pan out too well.” His head was sticking out of another doorway down the hall. “You should try to get more sleep. I still have to file a report with the patrol commanders. We’ll leave shortly after that.”

“Is this it?”

Viria nodded. “This is Vristala. Where I grew up.”

“I understand.” Selerim’s voice was somber.

Viria could only nod again. Familiar as it was, the sight before her was still difficult to accept. Just before the two of them, a swath of forest was missing. Just… gone. As if some giant, invisible hand had snatched them away.

“How are your eyes?” She asked. It was brighter without the trees.

“I’m fine.” Selerim’s lavender eyes fixed on her. “We should move,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to be here longer than we have to be.”

Viria nodded. “I agree.” She pointed to the small village. Though larger than the one they’d spent the night at before, it was decrepit. Only a single building stood whole; the rest were in a state of disrepair. “That’s it,” she said softly, a lump in her throat. “Where I grew up.”

Selerim nodded. “Let’s go, then.” He glanced back. “Do you think they’ll come after us if we take too long?”

Viria shook her head. “I doubt it.” Her own unease was already mounting; even having grown up here, being so close to the forest’s scar was uncomfortable. Valandor and the others had opted to stay back. She was grateful for that: she didn’t know whether she’d cry.

It only took them a few minutes to cross they distance. Viria reached for the doorknob, but Selerim’s hand closed over hers. His skin was warm to the touch. “Let me go first,” he said quietly.

She hesitated, then nodded, stepping back to let him open the door. The knob turned, then stopped but didn’t open. “Is it jammed?” She asked. “It’s been a while. I’m not surprised.”

“Is it alright if I kick it?” Selerim asked softly. “I don’t want to waste time.”

“... Alright.”

Viria stepped back as the hollow wound his leg back. A moment later, his heel crashed against the wooden door, knocking it off its hinges. It landed in the room, splintered and cracked where Selerim had struck it.

The hollow stepped inside tentatively, then beckoned to her. “Come on.”

She hurried over.

Viria’s breath caught as she stepped back into her childhood home. Though dusty, little had changed since her time away. Sunlight streamed down onto the foyer, lighting on her face and warming her skin. Two half-spiral staircases connected the bottom half to the library above; books lined the shelves, stacked on top of one another until they reached the ceiling.

“That’s a lot of books.”

She smiled. “It was my uncle’s way of keeping me entertained. It worked, for the most part.” Her hand ran across the railing as she stepped up to the stairs. Selerim followed close behind. “Being outside is… unsettling. I spent most of my time inside at his insistence.” She smiled sadly. “I hated him for it, but perhaps it was for the best.”

Before Selerim could say anything, Viria shook her head. “Anyways. I know what we’re looking for.” Gripping the rolling ladder with both hands, she set by on a certain shelf, just barely off-center.

As she grabbed the first wooden rung, Selerim’s fingers closed next to hers, holding it in place. “So it doesn’t move,” he explained. Viria nodded her thanks. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he started as she hoisted herself up. “Why did Vane–” her heart skipped a beat at that name “– hide everything here? Why not just in the bracelet?”

Viria forced her voice to work as she leaned over the ladder, pulling a couple of books free. “It’s not very safe. It makes it easy to carry lots of things at once, but anyone with the slightest bit of magic can access it. It was designed that way– oops.”

The first book fell to the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Watch out.” The second one followed soon after.

Climbing back down, Viria picked up the first book. “For exchanging secrets, something like this is better.” Closing her eyes, she plucked a thread of essence from her veins, twisting it into shape before pressing it into the book’s cover.

“... Nothing happened.”

When she opened her eyes, nothing was different. “Oops.” Wincing, Viria picked up the second book. “I forgot that they had different keys.” Picking up the second book, she repeated the process. This time, she felt something slip into place. Smiling, she set it down, then wove the proper symbol for the other.

“What did you do?” Selerim asked, confused, as she stood back up.

“You’ll see.” Viria scaled the ladder again, replacing the books where they’d been before. There was a small click, just like the one they’d heard at the previous village. “Mages can create locks and keys,” she said softly. But if they don’t know what the key actually is, they can’t get in.”

“I don’t get it,” Selerim admitted. “But this is going to help us?”

She pulled a few books free and nodded. “My uncle was cautious,” Viria said softly, running her hands over the smooth wood behind. “There will be something to – there.” Her fingers caught on something. Digging her fingernail into the soft wood, Viria pulled, and a small section of the wall swung out.

Pulled another book free, Viria leaned in as far as she could, fumbling through the small cavity with her finger, and finding… nothing. Panic rose. Her hand smacked against the compartment’s back, jamming her wrist.

“What is it?” Selerim asked, concern evident on his face.

“There’s… nothing.” Viria’s voice was numb with shock. “It’s… it’s all gone.”