An Inheritance of Fire

Much to Viria’s chagrin, she didn’t see much of Veile across the next week and a half. Not that she was surprised– the duties of a Grovetender were time-consuming in normal circumstances– and these were far from normal circumstances. She knew well that they’d stumbled into something far above her head, but outside of that, precious little else.

Part of that was by design. She’d been whisked away and told to stay in her room. Not that she had any real desire to leave. Ignorant as she was, the risks were too great. That was one of the few things that she was certain of. If she died, everything would have been for nothing.

“What are you thinking of?” A soft, gentle voice asked.

Viria shifted her head to look up at Veile upside-down face It was still odd, seeing her multi-colored eyes. She remembered the same emerald green that much of their race had. “Nothing.”

They lay on the same bed, legs pointed in opposite directions so that they faced one another. Being so close to Veile was euphoric in some ways, but painful in others.

They were different people than they had been two years ago, and even before that, their relationship had suffered from their separation. And more than that…

Viria’s eyes drifted down to Veile’s arm. The thick black scars started at her shoulder and grew more frequent as they stretched down to her hand. Her hand, in particular, was almost entirely covered in them– as if someone had tried to remove every bone in her hand one by one.

“Hey,” Veile said softly, reaching out to cup Viria’s face in one hand. “I told you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Viria bit her tongue, resisting the urge to ask how Veile was so certain. It had done no good the days before; there was no reason to believe it would do any now. She’s changed. That much was apparent, but it was difficult to ascertain how much– and difficult to believe after only two years.

Just how many strings did she pull?

Valandor’s appearance was proof of her interference, but outside of that, Viria was clueless– and scared to know the answer.

“I know things are awkward between us,” Veile murmured, making her heart skip a beat, “but for now, I’m needed elsewhere. She shifted forward, pressing her forehead to Viria’s. “Once things settle down a little bit, I’ll make time for us. I promise. Alright?”

Viria nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“I imagine there’s a lot for us to say to each other,” Veile continued, “but for now, just remember this: you’re my sister. No matter what happens, you will always be the most important person in the world to me. Don’t ever forget that.”

She nodded again. Veile seemed about to say something more, but before she could, there was a knock at the door.

“One moment!” Veile called out. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been some time since there was a clear leader in our father’s Grove. Rebuilding connections and convincing the people has been… challenging.” She smiled wryly. “You should prepare yourself, as well. You’ll have a role to play before all this is over.”

“Me?” Viria asked, bewildered. “But you’re the Grovetender now.” It still felt odd to refer to her sister as such. “I have no authority. No influence.”

Veile nodded. “Be that as it may, your presence is important. Our public reconciliation– and your secession– has done much to silence the dissenters, but rumors are difficult to kill.” She opened her multi-colored eyes. “I’m not asking you to rule, sister. This country has already taken too much from you. But I need your help.”

Tears welled in Viria’s eyes at the earnest request, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “Whatever you need.”

Her sister smiled. “Thank you,” she said as she sat up. Veile pushed herself off of the bed’s edge and made for the door. “Ah,” she said, turning around with one hand on the doorknob. “It should be safe for you to leave, now. I imagine you’d like to see Selerim?”

Viria bolted upright at the sound of his name. “How is he? Is he okay? Can I see him?” She knew Veile met him– and that was a mystery in itself– but other than that she hadn’t so much as heard of the hollow ever since reuniting with Veile.

Veile laughed. It was a warm sound, full of mirth and joy. “Should I be jealous?” She asked teasingly. “You and I had been separated for much longer than that.”

Viria felt her face warm. “It’s not like that!” She protested. “I…” She trailed off, unsure what to say next.

Veile grinned playfully. “I was just kidding, Ria.” She flicked her wrist, and a small bundle of neatly stacked papers appeared on the bed. “I want you to have those,” she said gently.

“What are they?” Viria asked, sitting up and reaching for the first. She picked it up, then froze as she recognized the handwriting. Vane’s. “Where did you get these?” She asked breathlessly. “They were hidden away in…”

Veile nodded as she trailed off. “I opened the safe,” she said softly. “That’s why any of this actually worked. I’ve kept much of it– my position demands it– but these letters belong to you.”

Viria swallowed. “How did you know the patterns? I thought only Vane and I knew. Did… did he leave you a message of some sort?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Veile said with a shake of the head. Somehow, Viria wasn’t surprised. “It’ll all make sense, someday. I promise. But until then, I need you to trust me, alright?” She strode back over, taking both of Viria’s hands in her own. Her skin was smooth and warm, despite the scars. “Please.”

“Alright.” Viria’s voice was hardly a whisper.

“I’ll have someone guide you to Selerim’s room,” Veile said with another flick of the wrist. “Give him these when you arrive. And make sure he leaves Nyx and his weapons behind. He draws enough attention as-is.”

Selerim stared up at the ceiling from his bed. It was formed from grained wood– as was everything else in his room, save for his bedding, pack, and Verad’s sword. Nyx shifted atop his chest. She’d been waiting for him when he arrived, unharmed and unshaken. In some ways, that was the biggest mystery of all.

He sighed.

The journey through Umbra had been fraught with anxiety and violence, but in some ways, his current situation was more difficult to bear. With nothing to distract Selerim, his thoughts always found their way to one thing: his ruined home. There was nothing left in Cress for him to return to; just rubble and whispers of happier days.

Selerim sighed again, trying his best to expel the mixture of grief and anxiety that roiled in his chest. He needed to return Verad’s sword, but the image of their graves still dredged up more negative feelings than he could bear. He reached for the book Veile gave him, flipping through it half-heartedly.

He was glad to have it, of course– it was filled with precious memories– but that joy quickly gave way to sorrow upon realizing he would never be able to add more to it.

What happened to Viria? Nyx shuffled, positioning herself in Selerim’s lap as he sat up. The elf girl was another constant in his thoughts. He’d not seen heads or tails of her– or anyone, for that matter– ever since meeting with Veile. His meals were delivered regularly but rarely announced. Just left in front of the door.

After so long spent together, being separated felt odd. Up until now, they’d spent nearly every moment together; and now she was just… gone. It was unsettling. Made all the worse by the fact that he’d nearly sealed her fate.

Can I trust her sister?

Selerim glanced over at the room’s desk. The mask Veile gave him sat on top, while the sword was propped up against the wall beside it, next to Verad’s sword. If not for those, as well as the book, he probably would’ve written off their encounter as some fever dream.

The two were different in more ways than he could count. Viria was quiet to the point of being timid, but he’d seen hints of something more under the surface. Even if it was buried under whatever abuse she’d suffered before.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his thoughts. Setting Nyx to the side, Selerim pushed off of his bed. Who is it? He pushed the wooden panel open, expecting to see some nameless elf– or perhaps Veile.

“Ah.”

Instead, he found Viria standing in the doorway. It took him a second to recognize her. Though no physically different, time back home– and with Veile, he imagined– had clearly done her good. The dark bags under her eyes were less prominent, and her pale green hair, previously matted and clumped, fluttered in the air as the elf took a step back, both hands behind her back.

The most jarring change, though, was her outfit. Gone were the rough clothing she wore during their trek across Umbra. In their place was a simple, pure white robe. It left her shoulders exposed, revealing her scars.

Some things were no different, though. Selerim could see the uncertainty clear on her face. It was mirrored by his own. He hesitated, unsure what to say. Though glad to see Viria, her appearance only served to reinforce the knowledge that they belonged to different worlds.

Finally, Viria broke the silence. “My sister said you’d be here.” Her words hung awkwardly in the air.

Selerim nodded once, unsure how to respond.

“... How are you two?”

Viria nodded uncertainly. “Good… I think.” Her head bobbed down as she sighed. “Things are awkward, but I supposed that’s to be expected after so long.” She visibly hesitated. “How did you two meet?”

“We…” It was Selerim’s turn to hesitate. If Veile could truly decide the future, wasn’t this part of her plans? “If she didn’t tell you, I don’t think I should,” he said finally. “She seems to have… a lot of plans.”

Viria laughed. It was different from the one he heard during their journey. Lighter and more joyous; though still stricken with an edge of grief. “That’s true,” she admitted. “Veile… seems to have changed a lot.”

“She loves you,” Selerim said softly. “That much is obvious.”

Viria nodded again, making her hair jump. “I know, but… I don’t know.” She bit her lip and tilted her head upright. “Can I… come in?”

He hesitated, then stepped aside. “Sure.”

Viria jumped at the sight of Nyx. She hadn’t seen the pitch-black Reaver in some time– and never this close.

“She won’t attack you,” Selerim said as he closed the door behind you.

“I believe you.” True as it was, Viria was still wary of the duskwing’s sharp talons– and her large beak. “Can I try and pet her?” She asked warily.

Selerim visibly hesitated, then whistled once.

“She won’t bite. Just… don’t press it, if she doesn’t want you to touch her.”

Viria tentatively stretched out one arm, ready to snatch it away at a moment’s notice.

Nyx tilted her head to one side as her fingers approached– and then leaned forward, butting her feathered head into Viria’s hand.

Taken aback, Viria gasped as her fingers slid into the Reaver’s inky plumage. Nyx’s feathers were soft and silky, as if made of shadows rather than something more… real. Viria marveled at the way they filled the space between her fingers, warming them ever so slightly.

“What?” She asked, seeing Selerim’s expression.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “She usually doesn’t like other people.”

“I see,” Viria mused absentmindedly, scratching the back of Nyx’s neck. The duskwing allowed it for a moment longer, then pulled back, ruffling her entire body.

Selerim whistled once, and Nyx’s form flickered, reappearing on his shoulder in nearly the same instant. Seeing it so close was even more unnerving. The duskwing sidled up so that her feathered form was pressed up against his neck.

“What’s this?” Viria asked, noticing a small book on the bed.

“... Your sister gave it to me. Those, too.”

She followed the direction of Selerim’s outstretched hand. His sword was propped up against the wall, as was another one she’d never seen before. It was shaped like Vane’s; long and thin, but unlike his, had no sheath or scabbard.

“May I?” She asked tentatively, reaching down to pick up the sword when he nodded. The grip was bound with leather. It was slightly longer than Vane’s sword, and slightly wider. Even at a glance, she could tell it was made of elderwood.

“She gave this to you?”

“Yeah. I don’t get it either. You say that stuff is rare, but…”

Viria laughed. “It doesn’t quite seem like it, does it?” She bit her lip. “Things have changed… a lot. But I doubt they’ve changed that much.”

Selerim shrugged and moved to sit on the bed, propping his back against the wall and stretching his legs out. “If you say so.”

“Why the mask, though?”

“I have no clue.”

“And… this?” She gestured to the book. “What is it?”

“... It’s filled with my drawings.”

“Eh?” Viria looked up, surprised. “You said Veile gave it to you.”

“She did.”

“How did she recreate your drawings…?”

Selerim’s pale violet eyes flicked towards her. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No, but I haven’t spent much time with her.”

He seemed to consider that answer. “If she didn’t tell you, then I shouldn’t, either.”

That answer frustrated Viria. It was proof that Veile was keeping things from her– but something else nagged at her. It took a moment to figure out what.

Jealousy. It took her time to forge a bond with Selerim– yet he’d accepted Veile so easily. Don’t be stupid, Viria scolded herself inwardly. However their encounter happened, it couldn’t possibly have been so simple.

“Do you trust her?” Selerim asked suddenly, scattering her thoughts.

“Who?”

“Your sister.”

“I…” Viria hesitated. Do I? “She’s changed a lot,” she said slowly. “But she’s my sister. I trust her. I was more surprised that she trusted me, if anything.”

Selerim nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

Viria hesitated for a moment, then gestured to the small book, unable to help her curiosity. “Is it alright if I take a look?”

He shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s nothing special.”

She flipped the first page open. It was thick; more like a sheet of bark than a proper page. A middle-aged man stared back at her. The sketch itself was clearly amateur, drawn with as few lines as possible. Even so, his likeness to Selerim was obvious. “Is this…?”

He nodded. “My father. That was the first drawing I was happy with.”

She flipped the page to the next. And then the next. “You improved quickly,” Viria breathed incredulously. It was true. Bit by bit, the sketches became more complex, adding detail and depth whenever possible.

Most were of his friends– she recognized Verad and Corvus, as well as the other two– but two others she didn’t recognize appeared frequently. “Are these your mother and sister?”

Another nod. Viria felt a pang of guilt. He was only here because of her… “Why are you here?” She asked, struck by a sudden thought. “I know you’re eager to return to your family.”

Selerim was silent for a moment before answering. “Your sister told me to wait.” The same jealousy from before welled up, but Viria ignored it.

“You have Nyx,” she pointed out. “And you nearly beat a powerful mage to death with your bare hands. Nothing is stopping you from leaving. So why are you still here…?” Viria trailed off as realization dawned, spurred on by the words they’d shared at the pond. “You’re scared.”

She flinched as his head snapped up, but there was no trace of anger in his violet eyes. “You are, aren’t you?” Viria paused, giving him time to interject. If Selerim asked her to stop, she would. Without hesitation. Instead, he stayed silent, expression unreadable. Finally,

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I am.”

Viria closed the book and set it down. “If you don’t want to talk about it,” she started uncertainly.”

Selerim cut her off with a shake of the head. “It’s… it’s fine. Just give me a moment.” The hollow closed his eyes, resting his head on the wall before continuing. “I’ve never been good with emotions,” he started slowly. “Especially after my father died.” His voice tightened. “Senri, Saya, and Verad… they’re the ones who helped me grieve properly. And now they’re dead.”

Viria flinched as his eyes opened. The anger and hatred she’d seen so many times before burned brightly in them.

“And not just them. Everyone is. It’s just dumb, blind luck that my mother and sister are still alive– if they even are.” He paused. “I guess that’s another thing I’m scared of. I’m worried that I’ve been away for too long. That… that they’re dead, too.”

Selerim shifted positions as he spoke, hugging his knees to his chest. “But you’re right. I’m scared of returning to Cress.” Viria could hear the tears in his voice. “I know it’s gone. Destroyed. I know it is.” He paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. “But there’s some small part of me that still clings to hope I’m wrong.” Another breath. “But… I know. I know it’s gone. And returning– seeing it again… will just make it all the more real. It’ll be like they died again, somehow.”

“Then don’t go,” Viria said gently, moving to sit beside him. “Just go find your family. The living are more important than the dead.”

Selerim shook his head. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I need to return Verad’s weapon. I’m just borrowing it.”

Viria took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around the hollow’s curled form. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “I won’t say anything,” she said quietly. “If you need to cry, cry.”

Those words seemed to break the last of Selerim’s reservations; he started sobbing moments later. These were real tears; not the half-contained, rage-filled emotions he’d already expressed before.

Viria stayed there in silence as each sob wracked his body. She forced herself to remain perfectly still, unwilling to disturb the hollow in the slightest. She lost track of time as Selerim cried, and by the time he was done, the hollow seemed completely spent.

“Sorry,” he muttered, raising his head.

Viria smiled and pulled away. “It’s alright,” she said soothingly. “What are friends for?”

Selerim nodded silently.

She looked around the room with a sigh. It was hardly any different than hers. “Have you been here this whole time?” He nodded again.

“I haven’t seen anyone since your sister kidnapped me,” he said hoarsely. His lavender eyes fixed on hers. “I wasn’t even sure you were alive,” he admitted. “It’s… I’m glad that you are.”

Viria laughed gently. “Me, too.” She shuffled to the edge of the bed and pushed off it. “I’ve been copped up in my room for a while, too.” She held out one hand. “How about we get out of here for a bit? Veile already gave me the okay. She said you’d have to leave your weapons and Nyx behind, though.”

Selerim’s tear-stained eyes darted between Nyx and his sword before meeting hers again.

“... Alright,” he finally acquiesced. The hollow wiped his eyes on his sleeve and followed suit, pushing off the bed and reaching for his cloak.

“Ah,” Viria said. “Wait a moment.” She threaded essence through her necklace, and a small bundle of cloth appeared on the bed next to him. “She asked me to give you these. I’ll wait for you outside the room.

“... These clothes are too soft.”

Viria laughed at the nonsensical complaint. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It just… feels weird.”

She laughed harder at that. Selerim scowled at her– which of course, only made her laugh even harder.

Forcing herself to calm, Viria looked him up and down. “I like the cloak, though.”

“... Me too.”

She smiled. Veile had given her clothing meant for Selerim. How she knew they would fit, Viria had no idea, but they suited him nonetheless. Compared to garb that most elves wore, Selerim’s clothes were simpler– and much more practical.

Rather than the white-and-green robes that most others wore, the hollow was dressed in a plain black shirt and trousers. The shirt itself was plain, with no other markings. The trousers were tight-fitting, stopping just above his ankles. Viria had already given up on trying to count the number of pockets.

That left the cloak. It seemed several shades darker than his other garments, somehow, and with deep violet lines threaded through it, reminded Viria of Nyx. Despite the hollow’s bone-white hair, the dark garb suited him well.

Selerim’s eyes darted around their surroundings uncertainly. “It feels weird. Being here.”

Viria nodded. She felt much the same, but for a different reason. The palace had been home to her father, but she’d hardly spent more than a week at a time within its walls. Still, fragmented memories welled up as they strode through the open hall. Some held their father, others held Veile. Others, still, held a faceless nameless elf. Her mother, she assumed.

Not that I would know.

With a sigh, Viria looked up. They were outside, on one of the trails that connected one wing to the other. It was marked by a number of wooden arches, each one meeting in a soft curve. The daytime was pleasant, but knowledge that the Grovetenders were so close kept her from enjoying it fully.

“Have–”

She turned around with a question on the tip of her tongue, only to see Selerim standing a few paces away. His eyes were fixed on something in the distance. Viria tried to ascertain what as she fell beside him, but try as she might, she could see nothing.

“What is it?” She asked, worried.

“Do you hear that?”

“...” Viria strained her ears, but try as she might, only silence greeted her. “No.”

“It sounds like… Clashing blades. But different.”

Before she could say anything more, Selerim broke into a steady stride.

Viria hurried to follow suit, worried what he might find. They rounded the corner of a nearby structure– and walked straight into the training grounds. A number of elves stood in an imperfect circle, while two others– each holding a simple blade– clashed in its center.

Selerim’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, taking in each one of their movements. The same emotion Viria had seen before in his eyes was present once more. Longing.

“Do you want to join them?” She asked softly.

The hollow visibly hesitated, then shook his head. “There’s no point.”

“So you say,” a gruff voice interjected, “but it looks like you could use an opportunity to move around.”

They both turned to face the new voice– and saw Valandor, with another elderly elf in tow.

“Surprise!” Valandor grinned broadly. “Betcha didn’t think I’d show my ugly mug around you again.”

“Valandor!” Viria lunged forward and threw her around the scarred elf– an action that surprised them both.”

“Easy there, girl,” he said, gently prying her off. “I may have saved your life, but it was just as much for myself as it was for you.” He grinned. “Though it’s good to see you again, I’ll admit.” Valandor’s grin faded as he looked towards Selerim. “Today, though, I’m here for the boy.”

“How did you know we’d be here?” Selerim asked flatly.

“This one’s sister told me,” the old elf answered, gesturing to Viria. “She seems to know… quite a bit.”

The hollow fell silent at that.

“So how about it? I’d welcome the chance to cross blades with you… And I suspect you’d welcome the chance to move your body.”

“Why are you here?” Selerim asked stubbornly.

Valandor sighed. “If you must know, patrol duty is just one of my duties. My real role is as a Weaponmaster. You recognize that one, don’t you?” He nodded in the direction of the other elves. Now that he pointed it out, Viria recognized Variel standing in their midst. Even from this distance, it was easy to discern her intense concentration.

“So what about it, boy? How about a spar with little old me?”

“No,” Selerim answered flatly. “That’s not a good idea.”

Valandor tilted his head. “Because you fear you’ll lose control?”

The hollow glared at him, but said nothing more.

“That’s what this old man is here for,” Valandor said with a smile, gesturing to his companion– who shook his head irritably.

“Say what you will, Valandor, you’re still much older than I am.”

“This is Vyke,” Valandor continued, completely unbothered. “He’s going to help bridge the gap between you and I, even if momentarily.” He turned back around. “If you’d do the honors?”

Vyke audibly sighed, but a moment later, a blue glow enshrouded him. Viria saw Selerim stiffen beside her, and gently grabbed hold of his wrist. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Valandor was trustworthy– she was sure of it.

Valandor grinned as the blue glow dimmed and then disappeared. “Hold out your hand, lad. I don’t bite.”

Selerim slipped his hand into Valandor’s.

“Squeeze as you can.”

The hollow’s hesitation was clear, but he did as instructed. Valandor grinned, but Vyke grimaced. Selerim, for his part, looked surprised.

“How long can you give us?” Valandor asked.

“Ten minutes at most,” Vyke said. “Any more than that, and you’re going to end up hurt. Or dead.”

“How about it, lad?” Valandor asked Selerim.

“I don’t have a weapon.”

“Easily solved. Variel!” The grizzled elf’s voice boomed forward. Every elf present turned to look. Valandor gestured with one hand, and Variel disappeared into the barracks, only to appear a moment later with a cloth bundle held in her hands.

“Are you two going to spar?” She asked excitedly, eyes darting between Selerim and Valandor even as she offered the bundle.

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Selerim said uncertainly as Valandor handed him the cloth wrapping.

“You need to blow off some steam, lad. That’s easy enough to see. And I’d rather you do it with this.” He gestured for Selerim to unwrap the bundle. He did so after a moment of silence.

The cloth slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground below. In its place, he held an odd weapon– a chain and dagger.

“It won’t last long in your hands,” Valandor said gently, “but it should suffice for however much time we have.”

Selerim looked at Viria hesitantly.

She smiled and stepped behind him, gently pushing the hollow forward. “Just go. He’s right. You need to let it out.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. Variel cheered, throwing her hands in the and scampering back to the crowd. By the time Viria and her companions made their way to the larger group, there was a buzz of excitement.

“Just two rules,” Valandor said, shifting his posture as the gathered elves circled around him and Selerim. “No killing. No maiming.” He pointed to the chain and dagger in Selerim’s hands. “The blade has been dulled. Just be sure not to cave my head in with your freakish strength. Got it?” The hollow nodded uncertainly.

“Vyke!” Valandor called out. “Watch the girl.”

His companion nodded once, adjusting his position to stand next to Viria.

“Count us down, Variel.”

She pushed her way to the front at that, raising one arm above her head. “One. Two. Three-!” The moment her arm fell, Selerim lashed out, his arm moving so quickly that it blurred. The chain followed the dagger as it flew forward, drawing a dull grey streak in the air.

Valandor turned his body, stepping ever so slightly to the side as the weapon flew past him. One hand darted out as the weapon passed him– and grabbed hold of the chain. Instead of darting forward like Viria had seen him do so many times, Selerim gripped both ends of the chain– and pulled.

The grey links were drawn taut as Valandor raised his hand above his head, a savage smile on his face as he pulled back. For a time, they stood there, equally matched. And then Selerim released his hand and closed the distance between them.

He covered it in less than two seconds, body twisting upwards for a barehanded strike as Valandor stumbled, balance broken. Viria heard Selerim’s fist strike Valandor square in the chest– No.

It was the sound of flesh on flesh. The old elf blocked his strike at the last moment. Valandor grinned savagely. “Surprised?” He asked mockingly.

Selerim growled, then doubled over as Valandor kicked him in the stomach. Wrenching his arm free, the hollow gripped his foot with both hands and pulled on it, breaking Valandor’s balance completely this time.

The chain and dagger fell from Valandor’s grasp as he caught the ground with both hands. Selerim reached it first, scooping the weapon up and putting some distance between himself and the old elf.

“You should know better,” the old elf scolded, wagging one finger comically.

Selerim audibly growled.

“Oh? Do you feel like taking it a bit more seriously now?”

Viria watched as Selerim threw his weapon again, this time flicking his wrist to keep it out of Valandor’s hold.

“Good.” The old elf nodded approvingly.

“... We should give them some distance,” Vyke said from beside her. “All of us.”

The ring of gathered elves dissipated at that. Vyke led Viria to a nearby seat, gesturing for her to sit. He waved his hand, and a small earthen pillar erupted from the ground, which he sat on.

For the first time, Viria noticed the scars that ran from his wrist to his shoulder. They were the same as Valandor’s– blotchy, whitened scars that were too orderly to be natural.

“Yes, they are,” Vyke said suddenly, answering her unspoken question.

“Sorry,” Viria said, tearing her eyes away. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay. I’m just here to take your measure.”

“What do you mean?” Viria asked, suddenly cautious. Despite that, there was something refreshing about the elf’s candid attitude. “Who is Valandor?” She asked, certain that there was more to the grizzled elf than he led on.

Vyke shifted. “Does that matter?”

“... I suppose not.”

“...” Vyke fell silent again. “Do you know what he sees in you? In both of you?” He asked a moment later, voice barely louder than a whisper.”

“No. I haven’t… spent much time with him.” The question itself was surprising. Valandor seemed interested enough in Selerim, but Viria couldn’t possibly imagine what he saw in her. Especially in comparison to the hollow.

“You made an Oath.”

“I did.”

“With an outsider.”

“Yes.”

“It’s the first Oath ever made to a non-elf.”

“And?”

“You don’t get it,” Vyke said flatly. “That’s what you represent. A bridge between two races. Something that Valandor has been desperate to see for a long time.” His eyes flicked back toward where Selerim sparred with the old elf. “I fear he’s mistaken that desperation for hope.”

“... What do you mean?”

Vyke sighed. “You spent two years in a hollow village.

“And?”

Vyke’s eyes met hers. “Interesting. I thought your time away might give you some perspective.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Frustration crept into Viria’s voice.

“If we don’t learn to coexist with the other races, our kind will go extinct.” The old elf’s voice was matter-of-fact. “And not just us. The dwarves and humans will, as well. The hollows may be an exception, but only barely. They rely on us for food, but Reaver meat will suffice just as well.” He smiled sarcastically. “Unless they hunt the Reavers to extinction.”

Viria fell silent as she processed his words.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Valandor views you as a bridge between worlds. He thinks you two are proof that our races can live alongside one another.”

“I…” Viria bit her lip. “We haven’t made a good first impression,” she said quietly.

Vyke laughed at that. “True enough. That’s part of why Valandor is here today. He wants to prove that not every elf is bad.”

“So? Why are you here?”

He sighed. “To make sure Valandor doesn’t break every bone in his body. And,” he continued, “to tell you this.” His gaze hardened. “Valandor is like a brother to me. I would rather you not mislead him.”

Viria laughed. “There’s nothing to mislead him with. Selerim is leaving soon. He has no desire to be involved with us; we’ll never see him again after that.”

Vyke looked back towards Selerim and Valandor. “Perhaps that’s for the better,” he said grimly.