Yumanea finds out Carsi can speak to Nature

Yumanea was traveling south, deep into ancient forests that elves no longer try to inhabit. Things grew too quickly here for some reason, and not in the way that made food easier to come by. As one delved deeper into the forest, trees reached hundreds of feet tall. Hopeful cartographers tried to continue mapping this direction, but had observed some trees even disappearing and others suddenly appearing in new areas over the course of only a few years. That’s why they had named it the Wild Forest. Cartographers had given up on mapping it, and the elves had given up on trying to settle it. 

But she couldn’t give up on traversing it.

Carsi was on the other side of this forest, she was sure of it. The last message she had received from him directed her to meet him at a small village on the south side of Maeral Forest. There, she spoke with the locals and got a new message from Carsi, that he was going south, into the Wild Forest, and that if he had not returned by morning, he may need her to rescue him.

It was midday by the time she had gotten the message.

She thanked the locals and left immediately, walking at a pace that carried her quickly, but was mindful of her energy. If Carsi headed deep enough into the forest, finding him could be very difficult and she knew she’d have to be constantly mindful of her resources.

As she delved deeper, she noticed the forest floor being more and more crowded with roots, growing in size as her journey continued. She had to adjust her pace when she started walking on roots thicker than her arm. She was aware of her sometimes weak ankles and knew that tripping and injuring herself was going to leave them both stranded and possibly dead.

As she stopped to consider the situation, a crow cawed and she turned to look at it. It looked at her as if she was something it had never encountered. Her gaze lingered over it for a moment too long before she tore herself away so she could consider her next action. While she loved all of this untamed forest, she had to remain focused on her goal. Carsi was in danger and getting both of them out of there alive was her only priority.

She decided that, if she is having to slow down, Carsi must have had to slow down around here soon as well. She could just continue to go as fast as she safely can and she should catch up with him. He walks a lot in his travels, but he’s not as physically capable as her, and she could probably beat his pace.

The canopies above her thickened as the root and trunks did. Although it was still midday, the visibility almost made her think the sun had started to set. She was hit with the thought that she hadn’t seen any signs of Carsi. He would have left some clue to help guide her if he thought she might need to come find him, but nothing yet. She had an uneasy feeling that did not combine well with the heavier breathing she required to traverse these roots quickly, but carefully, enough.

As she started having to climb on roots, she heard an owl hooting nearby. She decided to stop for a short rest, since the owl was feeling so comfortable with her, and inside she loved being embedded in this forest. She watched the owl and the owl only had eyes for her. As if she was the most interesting thing in the whole forest, despite there being plenty of mice around with all of these roots. She felt that this would have been creepy and unsettling, but she felt strangely at peace, like everything was going to turn out okay. Not because it has to, but, she suddenly realized, it always has turned out okay.

She snapped herself out of her daydream seemingly shared with the owl. She decided her rested had been long enough. Saying farewell to the owl, she continued through the forest. Pseudo-dusk turned to pseudo-night, or maybe it was just night already? She suddenly wasn’t sure how long she was just sitting there, staring at that owl. She lit the lamp attached to the side of her pack and carried it in her left hand, lighting her way. The roots and trunks and canopies seemed to still grow thicker as she continued, maybe even at a faster rate. She was startled and froze as she went to grasp a tree for balance. A dove landed on her outstretched arm. She did not dare move because she didn’t want to disturb the creature. There’s no way it could want to stay there long and she’s always loved the beauty of white doves.

The dove stared at her and she stared at the dove. It almost seemed like it invited her to touch it. She slowly drew it in where she would have better balance. She slowly set down the lamp and brought her left hand around to gently touch it and it seemed to enjoy her gentleness. She loved it and she could feel that it loved her somehow. Why else would it just land on her arm?

The dove blinked and flew away, but Yumanea stayed for a moment to feel this feeling. There was this love from one creature to another that she felt for the perfect amount of time with this dove she had never met and may never again see. She was awestruck, but remembered that she must continue. There should be a clue around here somewhere, so she had to find it.

As she was now climbing over roots half her height stacked on top of on another, she reached the top of a small hill of a tangled mass of roots. Then she heard a voice.

“Yumanea.”

She looked around, startled that she had heard her name, but had not heard any footsteps or noticed anyone as she was hiking. Her attention paused on a small lake a few yards from her down the root hill, so far the most noticeable feature of this dense, uncharted patch of forest. She approached quickly, not quite sure of how much urgency or caution she should have. She quickly scanned over this new area, but couldn’t find anyone. She turned around, with her back to the lake, prepared for an attack.

“Behind you.” The voice was gentle.

Whirling around, hand on hilt, she spied a lone swan.

“It is I, Nature.” It came directly from the swan as it was swimming in an arc toward her.

Everyone knows that, of every species of animal, of every breed of monster ever known to elvenkind, not one has been capable of speech except for the elves. Baffled by the prospect of having to believe what she was being told, she scoffed lightly, “Why would I believe that?”

“Oh, Yumanea, your jests are some of my favorite.”

The way the voice emphasized “your” gave her a feeling of enormity. That the scale of jests being judged was incomprehensive. And she began to wonder.

“I understand that you do not believe in me, but it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter any more than if I didn’t believe in you. Neither of us would stop existing.”

The voice was gentle, motherly, powerful. It had taught her a lesson and she just stood there, staring, absorbing it.

“If you need proof, you can ask Carsi next time you see him.” The same voice, but in a new direction. To her right was the owl, perched on a rock so large that the owl and herself were at head height.

“Where is Carsi? Have you seen him?,” she asked, the urgency in her voice was palpable.

“Yes, and you will find him. I know this, but it is not what I have come to talk to you about,” replied the owl.

She didn’t have time to stop and talk, but if this actually was Nature, the Goddess, coming to speak to her, she felt she had to listen. Either that or it was some new, dangerous creature that could take on another’s shape or create complex illusions. She decided to take the bait and relaxed her guard.

“So then what have you come to talk to me about?”

“I have come to tell you that I love you.” The same voice again, but a new direction. Behind her, on one of the smaller roots at the base of the root hill. “I love you very much and I want you to know that first and foremost.”

“There are things I will need from you in the future.” Same voice, new direction. On her left, on a very old, broken branch high above her, sat the crow.

“But for now, I have a lesson you must be taught directly and fully understand,” the owl emphasized each word more than the last.

“No one deserves to die,” the swan.

“I love all of my children,” the dove.

All of the birds looked down and there was a pause. She wasn’t quite sure if she was expected to respond. There didn’t seem to be much room for debate about philosophy with a Goddess. She had stopped trying to follow the voices and just stared at the swan. It was slowly floating closer to the shore and craned its neck, allowing her to admire its beauty.

The owl finally broke the silence, “However, I know that some things cannot be avoided.”

“Sometimes my children lose their way,” the crow, despite being so far away, was somehow louder.

“You are an artist, Yumanea,” the swan, “And killing my children could become your art.”

“You must not go down that path. You must not lose your way,” the crow.

The swan’s eyes suddenly opened and it emphasized every word, “You must only kill when it is absolutely necessary.”

She felt the gravity of what was being asked of her as a hot steel ball in her stomach. This was a parent asking her child not to murder her other children. Trusting her extremely dangerous and capable child to not abuse the power She, its creator, had given it.

“You are much bigger than yourself. I’ll show you how,” the owl.

The swan was at the very edge of the lake, “But first…”

Yumanea leaned in to touch the swan.

The horse neighed at seeing the fallen tree blocking their path. Yumanea was startled awake.

“Did you sleep well?” It was Carsi, leading the horse along.

She must have been dreaming. She suddenly remembered that they had been traveling to Elanil together and she had twisted her ankle and that’s why she was riding the horse.

She didn’t answer as she considered how crazy, but incredibly real her dream was. It felt more real than any dream she had ever had in hundreds of years of dreaming. “I had the strangest dream.”

Carsi showed a hint of relief, “So you spoke to Nature?”

Yumanea squinted and looked down, not really sure, "There were 4 birds." 

"That's one of her favorites."

"But, like Nature the Goddess? I thought no one really believed in that stuff anymore." 

"I think, if you chose not to believe in her, she would respect your decision. But I don't think she would ever stop believing in you. She told me she'd be contacting you soon."

"She's our creator?" 

"Every single one of us. And she loves us all very much."

"I actually do feel that," she said quietly to herself and she let her mind drift off as she fell back to sleep. 

Aelin's Storm

On the third day of her travels, Mas’ildran hit her first bump in the road. As evening drew closer, clouds accumulated and the wind picked up. Normally, breezes were quickly broken up near the forest’s edge by the densely packed, tall trees. But the giant pillars of the Maeral Forest were no match for the atmosphere’s whims this evening.

“A storm is brewing”, she said to her companion, looking at the sky.

Her companion, a midnight panther, looked back at her, a face expressing something between sympathy and worry.

“I’m sure you could feel it before I could. Let’s find some shelter for the evening. We have enough dried food that we don’t need to hunt tonight.”

The wind continued to grow faster and faster until it was howling in their ears. They had barely a chance to search for anything before the need to find shelter had become paramount. And then the thunder started in the distance to the south.

She turned to her companion and shouted over the wind, “Mirafir, can you find us a cave above ground somewhere? This is going to be a rough night.”

Mirafir looked Mas’ildran in the face for a long second, as if remembering something long forgotten before giving a single nod. She turned to the northwest and started walking. Mas’ildran understood and obediently followed. A clap of thunder took them by surprise and they started running, their speed only limited by the oppressive wind and the debris it was kicking up in their eyes. A crow at the top of a tree cawed, as if to provide an extremely late warning of the impending storm.

Or maybe to signify their arrival. Mirafir stopped in front of a small cave near the top of a hill, safely above the nearby ground in case the rain turned into flood. Mas’lagana didn’t slow, however, and passed Mirafir, giving her a nice rub on the head as thanks. She proceeded further into the darkness of the cave, but then froze when she realized why Mirafir had suddenly stopped.

“Hello?” A foreign and shaky voice came from further inside. It seemed non-threatening, maybe even a bit scared.

Well that makes sense, Mas’ildran thought, maybe this person is also taking shelter from the storm.

Or maybe they live here, a cannibalistic outcast hermit.

She steeled herself and put her right hand on the hilt of the sword at her side.

“Hello, it is just me and my panther. We’re here to take shelter from the coming storm,” she shouted into the cavern, the pacing of her words betraying a little more fear than she had intended.

“Oh, of course. Come in out of the storm,” came back in an unfamiliar accent, slightly echoing. Now that her eyes were adjusting, Mas’ildran could make out a small fire further in. She turned to Mirafir, who approached her cautiously while keeping her eyes trained on the fire in the distance.

And the silhouette that just stood up between them and the fire.

“I’m harmless, I swear,” they said, their voice quieter and with less echo. “I’m here taking shelter from the storm, same as you.”

Mas’ildran visibly relaxed. Keeping her hand on her sword, she walked closer to the fire. “It looks like it’s going to be a rough night out there. Would you mind if we share your fire? We have some deer jerky we can share in exchange.”

“Yes, please, come enjoy the fire’s warmth. I-,” they hesitated only briefly, “I just ate actually, but thank you for the offer. Is it raining yet? Are either of you wet?”

“No,” Mas'ildran replied. She didn’t miss the hesitation coming from this stranger and it put her a little on edge. She decided to take her hand off her sword’s hilt, but only so she could look more relaxed than she actually was. After a moment, it finally hit her.

“I’m sorry, I must have lost my manners in the storm. My name’s Mas'ildran. I’m a Hunter Elf from a village near here, Lohr’an. I use she/her pronouns.” She sat on the other side of the fire, with the cave wall at her back.

“Oh yes, of course. I’m Aelin. I also use she/her pronouns,” she replied excitedly, but then lowered her head, tilting it slightly. And then more dejected than enthusiastic, “I guess I don’t really have a home.”

A flash of lightning came, quickly followed by a clap of thunder so powerful that Mas'ildran could see some of the smaller pebbles dance slightly. She had heard of exiles, people who were cast out of their homes for their actions. At one point, Carsi had told her exactly the number of people he had personally exiled, as well as how many of them were still alive. She hadn’t paid enough attention to remember what those numbers were, but she knew this meant that exiling an elf was not a light punishment. But this one? She didn’t know whether to be worried about what she was capable of, or to take pity on her for whatever unfortunate circumstances led to this fate.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she decided to take the sympathetic route. “I’m an adventurer. Well, I just started really.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Aelin responded, her nervousness becoming increasingly visible. “H-Have you had any adventures yet?”

Mas’ildran smiled in an attempt to mask the increasing tension around the campfire. “Not a one,” she replied. She noticed that Mirafir was laying down, but kept her head upright. Relaxed enough, but alert. Mas’lagana knew that Mirafir could sense Aelin’s anxiety too. “So, do you live here?” she asked, looking around the walls of the cave.

“No, I’m traveling too. I’m…. new,” her voice still shaky.

Masalagana’s heart skipped a beat as her mind had to reconcile these two very dissonant facts. If the elf in front of her was newly born, why was she appearing as fully grown? Elves are born from their environment as babies and must be taken in by older elves to learn what it means to be an elf. How was she even able to speak? She must have been lying or had amnesia. That was the only possible explanation.

Aelin was almost at the point of tears as she pleaded, “Mas’ildran, I know you have weapons, please don’t hurt me!”

The wind took a sudden turn and started howling at the cave entrance. Mas’ildran started to realize that she might be in over her head here. In another attempt to de-escalate the situation, she smiled and replied as calmly as she could. “Don’t worry, I’ve trained for many years. I will only draw them when I am protecting myself or others and only when necessary.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Aelin’s voice trembled, and Mas'ildran started to notice an almost musical quality to it. “Mas’lagana, I think I’m a-”

Another flash of lightning was instantaneously followed by a deafening clap of thunder that caused the wood in the fire to shake and settle, kicking up a plume of smoke and embers. As her hearing returned momentarily, Mas’lagana recognized that the sound she was hearing wasn’t echo from the thunder, but Aelin. She wasn’t screaming, but her eyes were glazed over and her mouth still in the shape to make the sound for “a”, as if she had just held the sound of the word out for the last fifteen seconds. Her skin’s texture started rapidly changing, like the surface of water coming to a boil. Or maybe it was melting in place. The sound of her voice continued it’s tremble, but maybe it wasn’t out of fear. The tremble increased in variation until it was a broken sound, staccatoed with silence. It reminded Masalagana of the tapping of her father’s finger on the table, rapid and musical. It started variating in pitch as well, almost becoming a song, but this was far more terrifying.

Mas’lagana could not move a muscle. She had felt fear before, of course. Even life-threatening terror than one time she chanced upon a venomous snake while playing in the woods near her home as a child. But then, she knew what to be afraid of, the snake, it’s fangs, the venom. Now, she had no idea what to be afraid of. She only knew to be terrified.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of whatever was happening to Aelin. She couldn’t hear anything but her deafening, broken scream. She didn’t even have the capacity to feel the chilled wind coming in from the outside. She had realized that she had given herself the worst positioning. Both the fire and Aelin were between her and the safety of the outside. And Aelin started…. Expanding? Or maybe that was the bubbling…

A voice broke through and jolted her back, “Mas’lagana, to me!”

It was Yumanea, her teacher. She simply couldn’t be surprised, so she bolted to along the walls of the cavern around Aelin only to fall in front of Yumanea on her backside, turned toward Aelin, unable to tear her eyes and ears away from what was happening.

Yumanea calmly walked over to Aelin, bent over slightly, and tapped her on the shoulder, except her two fingers pushed into Aelin’s skin. She straightened herself and waited, seemingly immune to the crippling, distorted scream. Another flash of lightning bright enough to illuminate the small cavern and another clap of thunder powerful enough to further settle the fire’s wood.

“A monster,” Aelin continued as if nothing had happened. She bolted upright and started frantically looking around when she realized Mas’lagana was no longer against the cave wall in front of her. She stopped looking and raised her hands to protect herself when she saw Yumanea only a pace away from her.

Yumanea sighed, “Both of you get in here and sit down. Mirafir, I need you to find some Yaresh leaves. I saw a bush a few hundred paces east of here.” Everyone did exactly as they were ordered only because they were too confused to do anything else.

“Yumanea, what’s going on? How did you find me here?” Mas’lagana finally asked as her senses started to return.

Mirafir had returned already and put her large head in Yumanea’s hands, spitting something out. Yumanea stretched her arm out toward Aelin, her upright palm full of broad, dark green leaves. “Take one of these and chew on it. Keep them and chew on them as long as the storm is here.”

“Yumanea!” Mas’lagana blurted, impatient to understand what the hell was going on here. Aelin came only close enough to take the leaves from Yumanea, but her stance kept wide, ready to run away at any moment. She quickly retreated to rebuild the lost distance.

“I have been tracking this one. She is Slar’eth,” Yumanea turned to face Masalagana. She was lying, of course, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Wh-what’s a Slar’eth?”

“She’s right, techincally, she is a monster.”

Aelin visibly flinched at the word.

“It’s okay,” Yumanea continued, “I have no desire to hurt you. These leaves will help you resist the storm. Please, chew them”

Aelin cautiously put a leaf in her mouth and started chewing. It was bitter, but not unbearably so.

Masalagana’s senses were still returning and she had started to put the pieces together. “She said she was new…”

“Yes, she seems pretty young. Young enough that this is her first big thunderstorm.” She turned toward Aelin, “I’m sorry your first storm had to be so terrible. Those leaves will keep the pain away.”

Mas’lagana’s patience was getting thinner. She felt she had more confusion and somehow less answers. “What happened?” she asked pointedly.

Yumanea turned back toward Mas’lagana. She took a deep breath to help keep her cool. Malagana noticed and immediately regretted her tone.

“Slar’eth are much more elemental than elves. Air, specifically. Her body is like a solidified, gaseous vapor and can react to the same atmospheric changes that cause lightning. Sometimes, the reaction can be very violent and painful, like it just was, in which she isn’t even aware of the things going on around her. The leaves of the Yaresh have a strong grounding effect, so her body isn’t as heavily swayed by the atmosphere’s influences. You’ll notice she also doesn’t have pointed ears and that her eyes are very slightly disproportionately large compared to her face.”

“What are you?” It was the first time Aelin had spoken since her screaming. Her voice was no longer trembling in the slightest, but the fear was still palpable.

“Apologies,” her tone became more formal. “I am Yumanea. I am Masalagana’s weapons instructor and I hail from the same place as she. I use she/her pronouns. How old are you?”

Aelin was caught off-guard by the question snuck in at the end, “Two weeks, I think.” And then after another split-second of hesitation, “You’re more than a weapons instructor.”

“That is correct. And two weeks?” she paused, overemphasizing the physical motions of her thinking just a little bit to help show that she wasn’t on the defensive. “That lines up about right.

“I promise on my life that I mean you no harm. I do, however, have a proposition for you. I know much about your people. I could help you find others like you. Or I could even help you integrate into the Hunter Elf village nearby and you could live among my people. We can discuss specifics, of course, but the choice is yours. Please think it over and consider it carefully.”

While Aelin was contemplating the choice before her, Masalagana couldn’t wait longer for more answers and started talking quietly to Yumanea, “So, she’s a monster?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“Mas’lagana, I said she is only technically a monster, but she is also a person and you had best start understanding that now,” Yumanea glared at her commandingly. Mas’lagana understood this cue and let the revelation wash over her.

After a moment, she asked, “If she’s only two weeks old, how does she already know how to speak? How is it that she’s fully grown?”

Another thunderclap roared and Yumanea waited for it to die down. “No one knows. Slar’eth, like elves, are spontaneously generated by their natural environment. They just appear one day. Except, while elves appear as children and must grow, learn, and mature, Slar’eth appear as fully formed adults with the ability to speak and reason just as you or I. Slar’eth are very rare, so I’ve personally never met one this young.”

“And what if I refuse?” Aelin interjected.

“In that case, you will be monitored from afar. You’ll probably never even realize it. And, if one day, you become a threat to the Hunter Elves, we’ll meet again and I may have to kill you.”

Aelin’s eyes unfocused and widened at the proposition of her death, especially at the hands of this elf who could talk so casually about it. Like it’s something she’s done many times before. “Okay, I’d like to see your village,” she finally answered.

“Great,” Yumanea acknowledged her acquiescence. “This storm will pass over the night. We should get some rest and head back to Lohr’an in the morning.”

Mas’lagana had been heading west for the past three days, her destination was the Wood Elves of Faelyn Forest, but now she was realized she was feeling directionless with this sudden turn of events. “Should I accompany you both?”

“No, you should continue your adventuring. We’ll be fine and I’m sure she will adjust and make a fine addition to our village,” Yumanea said, turning her head toward Aelin and smiling warmly. “Anyway, I think we should all get some rest. We’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. I’m sorry, I guess I never caught your name.”

The pain that Aelin didn’t even notice she had continued subsiding and a wave of relief washed over her. With that relief came a feeling of security, that everything here was going to be alright. “Aelin, she/her.”

Of course it was. It always is. Yumanea thought. “Well, Aelin, do you have a sleeping bag or something comfortable to sleep in?”

“No, I don’t know what that is.”

“Fear not, I happen to have two.”

Masalagana watched this exchange with a mixture of relief and sheer dumbfoundedness. She had a sense that there was still a question she wanted an answer to, but had just been so overwhelmed that she couldn’t remember what it was. At least everything had worked out. The storm had even calmed, it’s fierce wind turning into a steady rain. She grabbed her sleeping bag from her pack and called Mirafir over so they could sleep together like they did every night.

Yumanea grabbed both sleeping bags from her backpack and handed one to Aelin.

“So what is this?” Aelin asked, her voice sounding much more inquisitive than terrified.

“It’s a sleeping bag. It’s a lot like a blanket, except you can seal up the bottom and side. It’ll keep you warm while you sleep, even if it’s cold out.”

“What an amazing thing! Where do you find these?”

“These are made by elves in my village. If you would like, we could watch them make one.”

“I would love that,” Aelin said with a surprising level of sincerity.

Yumanea smiled back to acknowledge the sincerity and started to show Aelin how to properly use the sleeping bag.

After everyone was soundly asleep, Yumanea awoke. She had trained to be able to wake herself up at specific times of the night, like an internal clock. It was a useful skill in her line of work. Quietly, she got out of her sleeping bag and left the cave. There wasn’t more than a light drizzle anymore. The storm had left just as quickly as it had come.

It’s a good thing I brought that extra bedding. This could have gone a lot worse, Yumanea thought to herself as she kept walking through the forest, picking leaves haphazardly from some of the bushes along the way. None of them were the Yaresh.

She ground the leaves up in her hand and drew her sword, approaching a tall, old oak tree. She used the tip of her sword to drill a small hole at about head height and then shoved the wet, ground up leaf mixture into the hole using the palm of her hand. She lowered her head, concentrated for a moment, and then removed her hand. Facing the hole and at maybe half a pace’s distance, she started to have a conversation.

“Carsi, are you there?”

“Yumanea? Did something unexpected happen?” the herb-filled hole resonated with a voice.

“Very unexpected. I now have custody of a two-week-old Slar’eth that Mas’lagana encountered.”

“A Slar’eth?” The surprise was clear in Carsi’s voice. “And Masalagana?”

“The Slar’eth wasn’t hostile. She’s agreed to come live with us. I’ll be escorting her to Lohr’an in the morning.”

“That might compromise the timing of your mission. I’ll meet you when you stop tomorrow evening and I can take the Slar’eth the rest of the way.”

“I understand. Be warned though that this one is very timid and not fully aware of herself. She doesn’t mean harm, but that doesn’t mean she won’t cause harm.”

“Thank you, I’ll be aware,” Carsi acknowledged.

“Otherwise the only thing left to report is that Masalagana thinks I’ve been tracking the Slar’eth. That was what I told her when I had to appear to handle the situation. There was a huge thunderstorm here and the Slar’eth started reacting to it. Not violently, but she would just freeze, scream, and lose her binding.”

“I think it was good judgement that you handled the situation as you did, then. If that is all, get some rest.”

“I’ll do just that. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow”

Yumanea pulled the ground leaf mixture out of the hole, ground it into the mud with the heel of her boot, and went back to the cave to sleep. Was this the second or third submission she was on?

Just another assassin

The Queen of Stars had retired to her animal-skin tent lodgings for the evening. She stood facing away from the entrance, a small candle lighting a book open on a pedastal before her. She didn't hear the figure cloaked in black slip in. In fact, nothing heard him do so, but she still sensed it in other ways.

Apparently without concern, she turned to face him, her dark skin blending in with shadows cast by the limited candlelight. What stood out to him were her eyes, nearly glowing white, but with the recognizable starburst pupils, pitch black. "I've already administered a fast acting paralytic poison, you can't move," he stated to her, his flat voice expertly hiding his nerves. "You should still be able to breathe, but you won't be able to scream."

She tried to move and found his words to be true. Internally, she laughed at the irony of having this frozen smile to meet this would-be assassin. She had figured the intruder to be a suitor, but assassins weren't uncommon in her position. It's a hazard she'd dealt with regularly. "Here to try your hand?" she whispered out.

"While I don't take pleasure in --"

"You're the third this year...", she kept whispering, somehow over his whispering.

"What, I-", he was shocked and at a loss for words. He was never informed of any prior jobs against this target. His superiors had lied to him all the way up.

"from the Sun Elves. Four-hundred-ninety-third total."

The candle extinguished and the shadows quickly swooped in. He felt them crawl over his skin, slimy as they covered his mouth, cold as they climbed up his arms and legs, and maddeningly smooth as they covered him like an outer layer of skin-tight darkness.

And then he was no more, simply consumed by the shadows. She was Queen for many reasons.