A Journey Home

Eighteenth of Solae, 1485
 
Our teleportation to Alcarin was thankfully uneventful. As soon as we arrived in the gardens, I could feel some of the tension that has been accumulating in my body over the past few days simply melt away with each step I took. Secilia was gazing around as though she’s never seen anything like it, and I had to remind myself that she hasn’t – that this is all completely new to her…
 
As we walked, she found a sense of familiarity in some things… a few of the symbols on the graves that we passed, and a mother singing to her child. Secilia recognized the song, a wood elven ballad. That, combined with the sigil that she recognized, led me to believe that she is descended from one of the wood elven families, a theory that was confirmed as soon as we arrived at my childhood home.
 
My mother’s first reaction, after her surprise at seeing me, was to ask why I am in the company of a wood elf. I explained that Secilia is my friend, and she is a half elf whose mother died when she was very young, and I promised her to show her what Elven parents are like. I gently admonished them both, asking them to please be nice. That seemed to mollify her somewhat, and Adar** invited Secilia to join us for a meal.
 
Amille* though? I should have known that she would have the most difficulty. She was unvaryingly polite, but there was a frost to her voice when she spoke to Secilia that I am not accustomed to hearing… “Where are you from?” She asked.
Secilia replied that she is from the Three Towns. That answer seemed to mean something different to my parents, for my father looked concerned, as my mother continued. “It is said that the people of the Three Towns are hardy, but the town is often besieged by undead.”
Adar caught my eye, and commented “So you have bonded over something, it seems.”
 
I wish that I had some more time to visit with them, but alas, the hour was beginning to grow late, and my mind was burning with questions that needed answering. We had a comfortable, if stiffly formal, meal with my parents, and then Secilia and I set off towards Alcarin proper and more specifically, Egig Ero Fa.
 
*Amille = "mother"
**Adar = "Father"
 
 
Filandrel
 
As we walked toward Egig Ero Fa, I asked Secilia if I could have her talisman for the time being. She handed it to me, and I left her waiting at the teleportation circle in the gardens. I realize now that I should have left her explicit instructions, rather than simply “please wait for me right here”… but alas, I suppose that I overestimated her deductive reasoning…
 
As I made my way through the grounds and up to Filandrel’s tower, it was almost as though I hadn’t ever left… except for the tight knot of unease gripping me in the pit of my stomach. I made my way to his door and knocked, feeling more like an errant student more than I care to admit…
 
Filandrel’s voice called to enter, and I stepped into his study. He looked up as I entered, and slowly closed his book and set it aside. He just sat there, saying nothing for a full minute.
Finally, he spoke, and I could feel myself exhale the breath that I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “Tea?” He asked. At my nod, a cup of tea floated over to me. I took a sip. It was delicious, and as it had in the past, the tea fortified me for the conversation to come… although this would be a much harder conversation than any before, and not because of the complication of academia.
 
“I have some questions…” I said carefully.
“Go ahead.” Filandrel replied, his tone so reminiscent of my memories. “I have time, for you.”
 
“There are so many questions… but you never really answered me before… why did you select me?”
 
“Your father is a carpenter, correct?” He asked, his reply surprising me with its direction. “He taught you to appreciate the work that we can bring through our hands, our dedication… Now, would you argue that magic could make a piece of furniture, but does it make it art? Does it bear the same significance, the same mark?” He rapped his knuckles on the table, which I recognized as one of the ones I watched my father fashion and carve when I was a child.
 
When I didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “Your bloodline was a factor, that part is true, my girl. Your upbringing, though, that was needed as well. I needed someone who could appreciate the more… fleeting things.”
 
“What do you mean?” I asked. “The more fleeting things?”
 
Filandrel sighed. “We live in this wood, far away from the world and clinging onto a past that we will never again have. Meanwhile, the outside world rots and it does so more quickly with the passing time… I needed someone who was outside of this wood, who could understand more than what’s in it.”
 
“But… you speak of fleeting things, yet all you want to do is to bring back what once was…”
 
“If you break a plate and you put it back together, is it the same?”
I shook my head. “It’s broken.”
“Can you ever really make it whole again? There are cracks and marks, and no amount of magic or hope is going to fix that. The hope is that we can reclaim a portion of what was lost, to escape the inevitable end we were never meant to have.”
 
“If that wasn’t the case, why didn’t you explain any of that to me earlier?” I asked, not even bothering to hide the skepticism from my voice. “Why did you lie to me for all those years?”
 
“You needed to be ready. There are many truths our kind consider… inconvenient.”
 
“But wouldn’t it have been better to raise me on the truth?” I countered, unable to hide the hurt in my eyes. “I trusted you without question. I looked up to you more than my own father…”
 
“Men and Elves often kill for the truth. It was protection, in every form of the word.” Filandrel replied patiently.
 
I shook my head. “Why? I fail to see how lying to me about all this is protecting me…”
 
Filandrel sighed. “The less you knew of our past, of the arrangements of Egig Ero Fa, and the imminent future, the longer you could be kept safe.”
 
I was silent for a minute, before I spoke, forcing my voice to be steady. “Did you ever actually care about me, or was that a lie too? Was any of it real? Any of my training… any of our conversations?”
 
“Yes.” Filandrel replied. “All of that was real, and still is.”
When I didn’t reply, just stood there looking at my former master, he continued gently. “If you are asking for proof… my respect for your space, and our conversation here should speak for itself in that regard…”
 
“But how can I know that you aren’t just “protecting” me from something else you don’t want me to know about?” I asked, my skepticism warring with my emotions.
 
“You are free to ask whatever you like.” Filandrel opened his hands. “I will answer it.”
 
I didn’t know how to respond to that… and Filandrel filled the silence. “Would you like to know why so few of us exist now? Why we have so many ruins and battered kingdoms?”
 
I knew he was deflecting, but I couldn’t deny my curiosity. “Yes.”
 
“We breed slowly, sure… not to mention the disasters that have come before us… Men won against the dragons, using our help – the magic that we taught them. The old tale tells us that. However, there is a secret… I want you to recall that dragons are the lifeblood of this world, diametrically opposed to the Eldest of the First World.”
Almost as though he didn’t even realize it, Filandrel quickly fell back into the methodologies of a lecturer as he spoke. In an odd way, I found it almost comforting.
“In times past, the two kept each other in check. As we are children of the Eldest, men quickly learned of a cheap and efficient weapon against the dragons, one that could be harnessed by an entire army… Our blood.”
 
“What?”
 
“Very few know this, we’ve taken much trouble to hide the truth. The truth being that the blood of elves is diametrically opposed to the blood of dragons. It could be used to slay them… a cheaper and more efficient tool than magic.” His tone sharpened. “Why do you think that so many wars have happened between men and Elves in ages past and then suddenly, none.”
 
“I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it…”
 
“Lara Durdain was defending her people from men who had learned that truth, and a bloody war was waged for survival.” Filandrel was watching me, his gaze piercing. “Now what do you think would happen if, say, the lich Vignir, or Vlatrossi Melkinov learned of this? This sort of knowledge places us in danger that is proportional to the fear that they will have for the dragons.”
 
“I don’t know…” I replied. “When I spoke with Vlatrossi Melkinov, he seemed like a fairly broken man…”
 
“His mind will soon give,” Filandrel admitted. “When it does, let us hope that he’s too old or feeble to be dangerous. He has done much for the acceptance of Elves and magic in his lands, we owe him a debt for that. However, he peered far too deeply into the abyss, and his mind can no longer look away from those that peer back.”
 
“The elves in Crastvongrad didn’t seem to feel the same…” I commented, thinking of the animosity that the elves in that region felt towards the human ruler.
 
“They have suffered much. Perhaps in another generation, the sentiment will change.”
 
“Oh… but if he is an ally to our people, then why would he seek to harm us, if, as you say, the dragons are almost gone?” I could see skepticism rising on Filandrel’s face, so I quickly added. “I’m not saying that I trust him… far from it, in fact… but I still want to know.”
 
“So, what are you actually saying?”
 
“There is something coming… we don’t know when, but it is coming.”
 
“There is a great, black dragon in the east, going after Wei Jang.”
 
Filandrel just stared at me, expressionless for a moment. “So, it is true that the decimator of cities has returned…”
 
Now it was my turn to stare incredulously until he elaborated. “A former instructor of Egig Ero Fa has been in the region performing research.”
 
“Who?” I asked. “I’ve only come across one other elf while I’ve been there…”
 
“Galion.” He replied.
 
At the name, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a shudder ran through my body. “What?”
 
“He is in the south, looking into matters involving the primeval kings. Historical work.” Filandrel explained.
 
“He shouldn’t even have a job…” I muttered under my breath. “Perverted creep.”
 
“Yes,” Filandrel said placatingly. “But good talent is hard to come by, and his skillset towards graverobbing and reading ancient texts is difficult to replace.”
 
“Where is he?” I asked. “So I know how to avoid him… I don’t want to deal with that again… ever…”
 
“You likely won’t run into him.” Filandrel assured me. “Last I heard, he was still near the Tombs of the Primeval Kings.”
 
“I can probably take him now…” it slipped out under my breath. “But, if he’s that useful, I don’t you want me to do what I will do if I see him again… if he so much as speaks to me…”
 
“You are an adult.” Filandrel cut in harshly. “I am sure you can show restraint and handle your affairs sensibly.”
 
I sighed in exasperation. I know he was right… I was being immature about it. After all, I did cause Galion to lose his comfortable position at Egig Ero Fa. I hope the eastern sun burns him…
 
Returning to the important matters at hand, I said. “I did meet one of our people there… he claims to have known you from your younger years.”
 
“I spoke with this elf.” I continued. “An axiomyte. He says that he knew you when you were fledglings in the first world…”
 
Filandrel’s voice chilled, hardened. “What else did he tell you?” He didn’t wait for my reply before continuing. “He should be dead. Imprisoned, actually, taken by the Judge himself to serve penance for his atrocities.”
 
“He claims…” how to ask this? I took a deep breath to steel myself. “Please tell me this isn’t true… but he claims that you, and he, killed three thousand of our people to create one of the Wells… the Well of Sorrows north of Runestone.”
 
Filandrel launched himself out of his seat, flipping the table. His face was a mask of fury as he bit out. “Did he tell you that I begged him not to? Did he tell you what the risk was? Did he tell you what I LOST THAT DAY?!”
 
“No. What did you fucking lose?” I shouted back. Now I’m a bit embarrassed about it, but at the time, I was angry. Filandrel had never shouted at me. I understand that it was an outburst torn from his grief and pain, and likely guilt, but still… he had never, in my entire life studying under him, he had never lost his temper like that… and I was embarrassed to feel moisture gather in my eyes.
 
“Three thousand of our kin held the line and were closed off, so we could create the anchor. Then comes Gaius of Astoria, and his wizard, and they shatter it!”
 
I took a deep breath to calm myself back down and asked, quieter this time. “What did you lose?”
 
Filandrel was obviously trying to deflect my question, so I pushed a bit harder. “For once, just tell me the fucking truth… What did you lose?”
 
“Half of myself was lost that day.” His voice sounded broken. I almost feel guilty for having pushed him… I have no desire to drudge up memories of losing one’s love, but at the same time, I needed to know.
 
“I have lived so long, lost so many, and seen so much that I don’t even know who I am anymore. But a monster is not one of those things. My heart is ice. I don’t even think I can feel much else anymore.”
 
I felt the first tear fall, as I dashed it away. “What do you mean, your heart is ice?”
 
“All of the pain, the cruelty, and loss… the scars have grown too thick… I wish I could cry. I don’t think I even remember how anymore...” Filandrel’s voice was cold, and I wondered who he was trying to convince, me or himself.
 
After a minute of silence, Filandrel looked at me and asked quietly. “Are these the truths you wished you knew?”
 
I just sat there, overwhelmed by pain and guilt. “No… but yes… I wish I knew about the Well… are they all like that? Did each one cost thousands of Elven lives?”
 
Filandrel nodded, his confirmation feeling like a dagger plunging into my heart.
“They hold the memories of all those who perished.” He explained. “The accumulated knowledge of our people. We can tap into them in our time of need.”
 
“Oh.” I could feel my mind begin to spiral, thinking of all of the consequences for what I did in Crastvongrad…
 
“Anastasia found one,” Filandrel continued, “fought the witch of the east to protect it.”
 
“I thought the Princess destroyed it…” I said.
 
“She took the knowledge within herself, the Well collapsed afterward. With it, we were able to find Lolth’s web, and ended the Five Thousand Year War.”
 
“Oh… Why did Gaius destroy the Well?” I asked.
 
“Fear for what they don’t understand,” was Filandrel’s bitter reply.
 
“Is it possible for them to corrupt? The Wells?” I asked.
 
“No.” Filandrel replied. “But I suspect that Anastasia may be influenced by the memories of the witch… how the witch was able to secure her own memories within the Well is… curious. Likely a result from her lineage.”
 
“Titania?”
 
Filandrel nodded. “What we know as the lingering shade of our mother-goddess, yes.”
 
“Oh… what would happen in a Well did become corrupted? Say, some dark entity invaded it?” I was hoping that he would just answer my question, as he seemed to be in an unusually forthcoming mood.
 
“They would have access to the souls and memories of thousands of our people… it has only happened once.”
 
I was about to reply with another question, but Filandrel held up his hand, forestalling any further questions. “Allow me to explain to you… the memories of our people. And then I will answer your questions… but first” he paused. “Please help me to right this table.”
 
I helped him set the table back upright, and he floated another cup of tea over, before launching into his explanation…
 
“Long ago, an Elvish king in the far north, fought a great and terrible creature. An angel, born of a time before the gods. There were five such beings in this world, regarded as the fingers of the black one. He took the power of the Well and used the souls of his people to defeat the beast. Using necromancy, he bound his spirit so that he may return, should it ever need protection. The lands died, the trees withered, and the birds left. Only him, and his kingdom of the dead remained.”
 
“Where was this king?” I asked.
 
“Far to the north of Loec, at the northern borders of Crastvongrad, near Northend… the veil is weakened further. Every Well that collapses brings us closer to the First World.”
 
“Weakened the veil?” I asked. “Would such a Well prey upon memories instead of holding them?”
 
I should have known better than to try to dance around a question with Filandrel. “What are you trying to say?” he asked.
 
When I finally met his gaze, I saw none of the anger or condemnation that I was dreading. I only saw calm patience – the expression so familiar that it was almost comforting. “I think I might have made a grave mistake…”
 
“Go on…” he encouraged.
 
“After Mustafat, and the bendeth in the tree, which I’m assuming you know about… I took Ravlor to Crassard. Vlatrossi Melkinov offered to restore his eyes in exchange for the story of our fight against Mustafat and the bendeth… I didn’t trust him at all, but I agreed… because it was Ravlor…” I shrugged helplessly.
 
“So, I told him of my journey and the events leading up to the battle against Mustafat. I told him everything except of Lara Durdain’s staff and our disagreements. Personal matters are definitely none of his business. None of it was, really… but he offered to restore Ravlor.”
 
I found that as soon as I began talking, I couldn’t stop myself. The entire story just spilled off of my tongue as though some metaphorical floodgates had opened… I told him of Sir Gerard’s arrival, bearing the head of a demon that he had slain while searching for a missing druid. I told him of Vlatrossi’s inability to reach the local Elven princess, Coerlia, and how Vlatrossi had made those two things, locating the druid and the princess, conditions of his healing and restoring Ravlor.
 
I told Filandrel that even though I hadn’t wanted to, I accepted the mission… ending in a success… we found the druid, who turned out to be the gnome, Priscilla Tringles, and killed the demon who was holding her captive. It was the search for Coerlia that led to the most danger – as our search led us into the upper reaches of Narvoth. I didn’t go into too much detail about our journey into the underdark, as it wasn’t the main reason why I was telling Filandrel this story in the first place…
 
I told him of the odd glade that we found, where the laws of nature itself were bent and warped. At its center was the Well. Priscilla insisted that the Well was corrupting the land around it, and itself was allowing demons to pass through. I stopped speaking then, watching Filandrel to see if he had any comment thus far.
 
Filandrel was thoughtful. “I see….” He said finally. “The princess may have been using it… or whatever dwelt near the Well was using her and the Well…”
 
“We entered the Well.” I said quietly. “We all did. It was one of the most horrible experiences of my entire life… almost as bad as Twin Rivers.”
 
Filandrel looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
 
“We didn’t walk through memories, per se… I thought the Wells were supposed to house the memories of our people, not some dark voice that got into my head, even though I thought I was protected by this.” I said, holding up my hand to display my ring of mind shielding.
 
“The creature in the Well…” Filandrel interjected, “did you encounter something?”
 
I nodded. “It preyed on our memories… not even real memories… more like memories warped by our worst nightmares… and everyone saw it…”
 
“We entered different chambers, and each chamber held a personal hell for a different person…” I averted my eyes as I continued. “It manifested the Battle of the Burning Field… except Ravlor was there as an undead and he came to kill me, along with a group of deathknights… I heard a dark voice in my mind, telling me that there was no one to save me that time. The worst part was that it wasn’t merely a figment of my imagination. I thought it was, at first.” I looked up to find that Filandrel was watching me intently. “Their weapons actually injured us…”
 
Filandrel nodded. “A powerful simulacra, only the most adept of illusionists could muster such a thing.”
 
I nodded and he continued. “This thing… it was vanquished? Did it want something?”
 
I nodded again. “In a further chamber… there was a winged body laying in state. It looked like it had been torn apart, but it also looked whole, if that makes any sense… it freaked Meriwald out… he started shrieking that bad things had happened there and we needed to leave. I don’t know what it was, but it utterly terrified him. He screamed that it was bad, and he doesn’t know why he remembers it, he didn’t know what it was, but something bad happened to him there.”
 
“There were intoners who lingered and aided our escape…” Filandrel explained. “Their spirits were split and shattered… that Well was one such place where we ran from the Queen. Meriwald is one such heroic spirit… a small piece of something that was once larger. You will find that many of the familiars within the wood bear such a lineage.” He paused. “How they come to manifest and choose, even I do not know. He must have chosen you for a reason…”
 
“I don’t know.” I shrugged.
 
“So what did you do then?” he asked, even though I’m sure he already knew the answer.
 
“I listened to Meriwald and tried to leave as quickly as we could. But, there was a spectre of a witch…”
Filandrel raised an eyebrow as I continued. “She attacked us, demanding that we take her to Melkinov. We defeated her and another, physically manifested witch… As she died, or dissipated, or whatever happened, the Well began to collapse around us.”
 
“Anastasia mentioned that Vlatrossi Melkinov had a “black pit” where he cast down a troublesome witch… this is troublesome…” Filandrel’s brow furrowed. “With the loss of another anchor, our danger heightens.”
 
With that last sentence, I felt the weight of guilt pressing down on me like a heavy boot on my chest. “I was afraid of that.” I said quietly.
 
Filandrel shook his head. “It was inevitable… we knew it from the beginning.”
“…and I just made it worse…”
“It isn’t your fault.” Filandrel said gently.
“How can you say that?” I didn’t even bother to hide my cracking voice.
“You had to protect yourself, yes?”
I nodded miserably. “Yes, but… if I had known what was going on, I could have left well enough alone.”
Filandrel shook his head. “The princess would have used it, or it her… you prevented possible calamity between the Elves and the Crastvongradi.”
“But at what cost?” I asked bitterly.
“Inara… do you have the power to undo the past?”
I shook my head and tried to explain. “When we defeated Mustafat, it was at the cost of the lives of 54 royal guards… their blood is on my hands too…”
 
“Then make sure it was worth it.” Filandrel said. His harsh tone made me glance up and catch his eyes. “Knowing what you know now…” he continued. “You may need to begin considering your purpose… Will you choose to hide, amongst the meek? Or will you find meaning within your pain?”
 
“Meaning within my pain?” I heard myself scoff a bit. “What meaning is there to be found?”
 
Filandrel shrugged and said: “That part is up to you.”
 
“Pain is pain.” I replied bitterly. “It must be healed from or left behind.”
 
“But would you be able to rest easy?” He asked. “Knowing what is imminent?”
 
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I snapped. “I didn’t know who else to ask about any of this, so I came to see you. To be honest, I didn’t want to… I wanted to take more time and think about everything, but in the end, I decided I needed to speak with you.”
 
“Does coming here make you feel better or worse?” Filandrel asked gently.
 
“I don’t know.” I replied honestly. “There is something else I need to know…:
 
“You were always curious,” Filandrel chuckled, “Ever since you were young.”
 
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse…” I admitted. “I have spent most of my life wanting to make you proud. I wanted so desperately to prove that you made a good decision by picking me instead of any of the nobles who cut their eye teeth on the arcane. I cut mine in my mother’s garden and my father’s workshop…”
 
“I have lived for many of our lifetimes.” Filandrel said earnestly. “I know mistakes… you are not one of them.”
 
I smiled. I wanted so badly for that to be the truth.
 
“So, what other questions do you have?” he asked.
 
“There is … do you promise me you’ll tell me the truth?” I looked at the books and papers scattered around the floor, anywhere but at him.
 
“That depends… inconvenient truths are often hidden for a reason.” Filandrel said vaguely. “What do you wish to know?”
 
“So… when last we spoke, outside Yaharghul, after you left, we were talking. And some things came to light, that I really don’t want to believe…”
 
“And what is that?”
I looked directly into his eyes as I asked: “Are you the one that they call the Pale Master?”
 
Filandrel studied me for a minute. “Do you really want the answer to that question?”
“I need the answer to that question.” I whispered.
 
Filandrel waved his hand in an intricate pattern, undoing the glamour that he had apparently been holding on himself for my entire life. A youthful looking elf was revealed beneath the glamour, wearing an elaborate blue and silver archmage’s robe. His long blond hair was worn in the same style as his dark, peppered hair had been. His eyes were no longer the deep green that I was accustomed to, instead they were piercing and grey. A singular scar marred his alabaster face, running from the bottom of his lip all of the way down his chin and throat, until it disappeared beneath the neckline of his robe.
 
“Does this answer your question?” He asked.
 
“Who are you, really?” I asked, not bothering to hide the hurt betrayal in my voice, and no doubt, written all over my face. “I’ve known you my entire life, looked up to you my entire life… and I don’t even know your real name.”
 
“I have had a lot of names over a very long time, girl.” Filandrel replied calmly. “But yes, I am the Pale Master.”
 
“Why?” I asked quietly.
 
“Because our people need hope.” He stated.
 
“How do you, being what I heard about, give our people hope?”
 
“You’re not aware, are you? Of what’s happened?” Filandrel, or whoever he actually is, raised an eyebrow.
 
“What?”
 
“You’re going to have to choose a side soon.”
 
“A side in what?” I was growing tired of his cryptic answers.
 
“The likely conflict that is to come. It’s not my place to tell you, however… you’re in Loec, yes?” he stated.
 
“I was at the moment.” How does he know exactly where I came from?
 
“In the Mother of Churches, nearby lies the Chapel of Sins. There you’ll find someone you met before. I may not have been able to scry on you, but I’ve kept a close eye on you… Speak to him. It’s not my place to speak of it.” He replied, answering my unspoken question.
 
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” I was embarrassed at hurt my voice sounded.
 
“What would you have believed?” He asked, rather harshly. “With what you know now, how would your opinion have changed?”
 
“I don’t know. Maybe if you had been truthful with me my whole life, I would…”
 
“You’re still young.” Filandrel interrupted. “You understand that. And I’m not saying that as a matter of disdain or to patronize you. I say that as a matter of fact. You are young. You will have to wait for certain answers, particularly amongst our people.”
 
“You want me to say “I’m sorry”, and I’ll be having to say it all day.” He sighed. “Go to the chapel of sins. Afterwards, make your choice.”
 
“Was anything you ever told me the truth?” Even to my own ears, I sounded like I was grasping.
 
“Every word.” Filandrel said implacably. “Except for this. And this was done solely for your safety, and the safety of those that I know.”
 
“Our very conversation here is a risk.” He continued. “I have placed my heart on a platter for you. I can’t do much else.”
 
“Thank you.”
 
“Be safe. And if you choose to face this dragon, make a choice first.”
 
“What do you mean?” I asked.
 
“Go to the Chapel of Sins, near the Mother of Churches.”
 
I turned to take my leave, pausing when I reached the door. “I never wanted to lose you…”
 
Filandrel caught my hand. “You won’t. Go on, girl. You have much to do.”
 
“Don’t lie to me again.”
 
Filandrel smiled. “No. Never.”
 
* * *
 
 
With that, I left. My mind was swirling as I made my way back to the teleportation circle and Secilia. Only to find that Secilia wasn’t there… damn her human impatience!
 
I scried on her, and found her wandering around the wood elf section of houses nearby. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I did bring her to the home of her mother’s family and then ask her to wait. However, I asked her to wait for a reason. I would have brought her back again if we’d needed to make a quick getaway from Alcarin on this day. Fortunately that was not the case, for we would have been in a great deal of trouble had I needed to use her talisman to leave Filandrel’s chambers – only to find that she wasn’t where I left her!
 
Secilia commented that I should have told her why I wanted her to wait, and I can see if from her perspective, for how many times have I asked Filandrel for an explanation, only to be disappointed? However… I did only ask her for less than an hour of her time… I do wish that she would have had the patience and wherewithal to deduce that I was asking her to wait by the teleportation circle for a very specific purpose. When have I ever asked for her talisman? Only this once… and that is because, if my conversation with Filandrel had taken a turn for the worse, I wanted to be able to leave quickly, without needing to cast a spell – which he could have surely countered. I suppose that is what I deserve for assuming that Secilia had inherited a modicum of patience from her Elven mother…
 
Secilia asked me something about taking her to her hometown at some point after this is over… I honestly wasn’t paying too much attention to what she said at that point, as I was admittedly irritated and disappointed with her. I shall have to wait to ask her later.
 
We teleported back to Loec shortly thereafter, arriving in the inn (if you want to call it that) that we were staying in. Perhaps I am being unfair, even to the undead… it isn’t a terrible place, for a human inn… but the undead surrounding us make me uncomfortable, not to mention their presence dredges up memories that are best kept buried…
 
As we ascended the stairs to our chambers, the air became decidedly colder. Frosted footprints could be seen heading down the hallway toward our chambers. Oh fuck no.
 
I could already feel the tingling sensation of magic gathering in my palms as we arrived at the open door. An unnaturally pale woman, scantily clad in a gown that revealed far too much, stood in the center of the room, talking to the rest of our party. As we entered, she turned and greeted us. She called me a “lady of Alcarin” and said that she “meant no offense.” Pretty words from a pretty corpse.
 
I could smell something in the air, at first I thought it was brought by the vampire, but then a very high Grimaldus pulled me into his lap as the conversation continued. I allowed him to do so, for I didn’t want to cause a scene, and I could feel the power emanating from this creature. I knew that if I were to go against her in combat, I might find myself outmatched. It didn’t mean I had to be unhappy about the situation though. Fortunately, the vampire left shortly thereafter, and Hasim regained his senses from whatever spell she had cast upon him. (That, he probably deserved, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself.)
 
Hasim passed me his pipe, saying that I looked like I could use it. Rowan whispered to me not to, but it smelled much like the pipeweed that Ravlor is so fond of, so I tried some… then I believe Meriwald did as well. I felt like my mind calmed and my consciousness expanded… and I began to wonder… why do Elves have pointed ears? Is it perhaps that we were once related to the birds? Maybe that’s why Meriwald and I get along so well… I wonder what it would be like to have wings and to fly… I shall have to ask him, but for now… he is still fast asleep…