20 May

Ashlyn walked a few paces in front of Damien as they traversed the deeper part of the wood. Now that they were far outside of the village, everything felt open and wild. The trees were ancient; the air was warm and humid, allowing all sorts of bugs and critters to live without the obstruction of mortal civilization. The birds' songs laid a tuneful blanket over the forest.

Damien had never been this far to the west of the southern realm, but he enjoyed the natural beauty that surrounded him. Though the trees created a giant canopy above, the occasional stream of sunlight broke through, casting an array of crystalline colors.

How was that possible, he wondered? How could pure light shift between shades of pink, orange and yellow? Blues, purples, and greens? Surely it was a mystical illusion of some kind. And why had he agreed to this again? Despite all the magical wonder, his feet and legs ached from walking. He followed the girl without question, but for all he knew, they were lost. 

Ashlyn must have been uncomfortable, too, with that long white dress and light blue hood draped around her. She appeared more like a mage than ever, especially walking with that wooden stick— a focusing staff, she had called it. Damien understood the cape and staff well enough, but the dress? What was the logic of it? He said nothing of it, though, for fear that his comment would offend her.

"Your friend sure lives far away." Damien broke the silence, hoping it would lighten the air between them. "I wasn't expecting this trip to take a whole day."

The girl glanced back at him, and for a moment, Damien thought she was cross. She had a serious expression on her face, though it softened as she spoke.

"In all fairness, it could easily take more than a day," she said. "Unless you prefer to walk in the dark."

"How much farther is it?"

"We're very close now."

Damien tried to gauge the sun, hidden as it was. "Surely it wouldn't take the whole evening," he said. "I told Kallus I'd be back by supper."

But the girl shrugged saying, "Animal Druids have a slow sense of time. Lothira's not one to be rushed."

"Animal Druid?" This term meant nothing to Damien. "What the hell is that?"

"A group of people within the Heart," Ashlyn said. "They've been here since the first age. If you want to understand the world and its history, just speak to an Animal Druid."

“How old are we talking?”

“Truly immortal,” she said. “Lothira is one of the first. One of the wisest, but certainly not peerless. They communicate with each other over vast distances.”

“So they’re like witches?”

"Hm, I suppose they still practice their archaic magic, yes. I like to think Lothira is different than most Druids. Gentle, understanding. Curious."

"Wow." Damien scratched his head. "Here I thought elves were the oldest race in Gumber."

"Lor elves are the dominant race," Ashlyn said, “but they’re certainly not alone."

Before them appeared a towering wall of leaves and branches. Though Damien could only see so much, the wall wrapped around on either side, enclosing what he could only assume was a different portion of the wood. Ashlyn placed her hand on it and caused an opening to form.

"Whoa." Damien marveled at how the branches untangled themselves and made a perfect archway.

"Come on." Ashlyn stepped through first, crossing into a meadow with smooth grass and sparse trees. Despite how bare it seemed compared to the outside, the area was infested with blossoms, pollen, and dancing blue butterflies. The air was even more strange here; thick and sticky like that of a pond. Damien could hear frogs croaking, bugs flittering, and some birds that perched within the trees.

Some paces beside them, a thin water-brook cut its way through the ground, drifting upstream.

What was this place? Damien struggled to take it all in, how the light broke into rainbows, how the water ran the wrong way, how the meadow sang out with rhythm and pattern. 

As they went further toward the middle, three shallow pools became visible. The pools sat in a trianglular form, and Damien could sense the sheer amount of magic emanating from them. 

Ashlyn stopped at one of the pools and knelt down. "If you care to know, this is where I was born," she said, placing her hands inside the flawless water.

"This place..." Damien gawked around, smelling the pleasant flowers and pollen. "Why would you ever choose to leave?"

"Well, I suppose my destiny would've called me out eventually. A Sorceress can't run from it."

There it was again, the talk of destiny— like it even existed. 

"And where is this Lothira?"

"I can't sense her near, she must be out. Give me a moment." 

Damien did, watching as the girl closed her eyes and chanted: "I wish to meet you by the pond, the place of friendship's strongest bond. Take me in your stride and I shall ride to the Heart where we abscond."

"Why the hell does it rhyme?"

Ashlyn took her hands out of the water and wiped them on her cape. "Lothira taught me to say that when I call her," she said while standing. “She’ll know it’s me.”

Moments later, Damien picked up movement in the distance. A white mare came prancing into the meadow, ducking under the open archway and stopping just inches from Ashlyn's open palm. The mare's pink nose touched the girl's hand in greeting. 

"Lothira," Ashlyn giggled, "have you missed me?"

The mare sat on her hind legs and said, "Se turessé, Ashlyn. I would ask why you brought an outsider here, but I can already see it in your thoughts. This mortal is important to you, and you ask my help."

"That's right. Damien doesn't want me penetrating his mind, so I thought you could uncover some of his lost memories for me."

Lothira turned to meet Damien's gaze, staring at him with a pair of brazen gold eyes. It was already unsettling enough that the horse could speak, now he sensed his private thoughts being exposed to this creature. He found himself stuttering over his next words. 

"You—you're Lothira? The...guardian?"

"I am." Lothira nodded, then moved a bit closer with shifting gold eyes. "Yes...your memories are fractured, young one, a river stalled by blockage. I can remedy this."

"You should know I don't really wish to remember," Damien began, "but I do want answers."

"Then follow."

The mare trotted toward the southwest, and the two youths fell in step without hesitation. Before long, Damien found himself entrenched by the soft branches of a giant willow tree, and inside was a doorway carved from its trunk. Lothira's body glowed with a piercing light that blinded Damien for a few moments, and when he was able to see his surroundings again, he saw a woman with long white hair and the same piercing golden eyes. Her body was now draped in thin silk, her skin was almost as pale as her hair. 

Damien tried not to stare at the white horn protruding from the Druid's crown. A single, rounded point.  

Lothira reached out her hand and said, "Come." She brought her guests further into her little dwelling and placed a bowl of water down on a wooden table. 

Damien couldn't help staring at Lothira's house decorations that lined the walls. She seemed to adore glass sculptures and wooden carvings etched with runes. Aside from the intricate objects, however, her dwelling was rather minimal and tight: a bed, a table, a hearth. For all its cozy charm, he saw no spouse or little offspring running around the space. Perhaps Lothira preferred solitude. 

"Are you ready, mortal?" 

The words shook Damien into focus, and he nodded. Lothira gestured to her soft feathered bed. 

"Perhaps it would behoove you to lie down," she said.

"Uh, no, I'm—I'm alright."

"Very well. Which memory would you have me retrieve?"

"Um, it’s difficult to explain."

"He was in Githal," Ashlyn came in. "But he doesn't seem to remember what happened during the, uh, attack that destroyed it. If you can retrieve his lost memory, perhaps that's where our answer lies."

"I shall try." Lothira placed her hands at his temples, and the moment her fingers touched Damien’s skin, a burst of crippling pain shot through him. It felt as it had that day; his mind being ripped out, his body unhinging itself. Perhaps it would have been better to lie down because he struggled to stand through the process. However, his torment came to an abrupt halt when a tiny bulb of light floated across the room and landed in the bowl. 

The pain ebbing, Damien peered into the water and watched as a dark cloud swept across a smoky sky. The world below was a grassy plain scattered with rocks, and in the center of his vision was a stone structure that took the shape of a circle. A citadel, but tiny from his view. He saw bricks and towers blowing apart, high winds that tore through wood and leather. What human hands had made became unmade in the wake of shadow and lightning. People fled as giant stones crumbled down on top of them.  

Damien hunched over the bowl, pressed his palms into the table. 

“I can’t see.” Ashlyn nudged him aside so she could get a better look. She watched the same horrific scene playing over and over on an endless cycle; the same dark storm waving across an empty landscape like a giant, shadowed hand. 

"Fascinating..." Ashlyn turned to look at him. "That— that's you, Damien. It must be."

"There is no way," he said, wiping a layer of sweat from his face. "Those are— those are Baldemar's seethers. It must be. Only they can turn into smoke like that."

"Seethers?" Ashlyn puzzled. 

"I guess here they're called dark mages? They do look normal. Most of the time."

"I understand," she nodded. "My question is: if these seethers are the tools of such destruction then why is this in your memory?”

“I don’t know.” Damien rubbed his forehead. It was like looking through someone else’s lens. He couldn’t explain it. “I’ve never…” Doubt pushed him to sit, so he folded onto the nearby bed, thinking. “This is so strange. It shouldn’t be possible.”

Ashlyn came into his downward view, reaching for his shoulder before she caught on herself. “Even in that form I can tell it’s you, Damien. I know your essence. Your being.”

"My being?" He shook his head angrily. "That’s not—you realize how crazy that sounds!? Me turning into that? I’m not a seether, there’s no way I could come back."

Beside them, Lothira said, "Perhaps there are few who could. Do you know the Song of Baldárë?"

"Of course I know that legend," Damien scoffed. "Only every day of my horrible life."

"Then you know of Baldárë and his descendants—"

"That's not me!" Damien fumed, gripping the sides of his head. "What am I supposed to be now, a dark elf?"

Ashlyn folded her arms in. "At the Academy, we always allow the evidence to speak for itself. There is little use in forcing facts to fit a legend or an opinion. One fact: you are immune to the bazjur, Damien. It would be foolish to rule out the possibility that you might have elven blood, however diluted. Another fact: your changing form would explain the gap in your memory.”

"Urg, just stop it!” Damien yelled. “You don’t have to prove to me that I’m a monster!”

He stormed out and sat at the base of the willow, staring at the odd brook that ran upstream and weaved under the roots. Moments later, Ashlyn appeared beside him and sat down, tainting her nice dress.

"Just go away." Damien made a point not to face her. "I knew I wouldn't like the answer. I know you're trying to help but I just— I can't accept this." He felt the girl's hand on his shoulder and shied away from it. "Don't. Can you not hear me?"

"I hear you," Ashlyn muttered while scooting a little bit away from him. "No one should have to suffer alone."

"I actually prefer to suffer alone. It's just...better. No one can look down on me.”

"I won’t tell you to not be upset or confused, I just want to offer you hope. The evidence suggests you have at least some dark elf lineage, but obviously your human side is stronger. That's an encouraging thought. You never told me who your parents were, only that they were gone."

"I know." Damien picked up a nearby rock and chucked it into the brook. 

"So...would you tell me?"

"No." 

"Why not?"

"Because...I have no idea. Baldemar was the only father I knew for a long time. Turns out he's a monstrous ass." He could tell Ashlyn was stifling her giggle, and he rolled his eyes at her. "Would you stop taking everything I say as a joke?"

"I'm sorry, it's just the way you say it." Then she huffed. "Have you ever tried asking Baldemar? Maybe he knows your family."

"Gah, I wonder why I didn't think of that!" Damien scoffed. "Please. I thought you were clever."

"Okay... Then just let me read you, Damien. I have a powerful Sight, I can figure out almost any mystery."

Damien folded his arms and said, "No. I don't want your Sight. I don't want you reading me."

"Maybe we could start with what you do want?"

"You've already given me what I want," he said. "Protection." He looked at her, met her  still brown eyes that were locked on him. Was she trying to read him even now? He took a breath while curling his legs in. "Stop. I know you're probably used to getting what you want, but just stop. No more answers.”