The Revior Tree

For my people.

For my people, for my people!

That had been her mantra for four full moons. Tonight would be the fifth.

The elf maiden's hunched form trembled in distress, her knuckles white from clenching her fists too hard and teeth gritted from effort to remain silent. Her long green eyelashes batted against her lids as she opened her eyes to let a trickle of light enter. At the sound of an arrow's whistle, she quickly shut her eyes again, steeling herself.

Every time the forest lost an elf, pain rushed to torment her. It was like a sharp needle piercing through her limbs; the stinging pain coursing through the body then flaring like a burst flame for a few seconds before fading away. Her moss green nails dug into her palms, drawing thin lines of golden liquid. Every muscle in her thin body grew tense as she absorbed the pain of the forest, willing herself not to mourn for her race.

The silence that came after the arrow seeped into her, like poison slowly paralyzing her from speech and movement. She couldn't see much either. A bean-sized hole in the hollow tree she was hiding in allowed only a thin beam of light to enter, but all she could see was the craggy bark of another tree. Uneasiness and solitude threatened to consume her and many times she had begged her mother to release her, to no avail. There was no way her mother was going to let her go. Her mother was the head of the woods, and every living being in the forest was at her command. Even the enchanted ten-thousand-year-old tree.

"Cry tonight and never after," her mother had quickly whispered through the hole the night she wept for release. "They've heard of the sacred blood that runs only in your veins and now seek immortality. We cannot let them find you."

How revolting.

Who knew such similar-looking creatures were so evil in nature? When the humans had first arrived on the edge of the forest, both races had been pleasantly surprised. The elves had been astonished to see people who looked so similar yet so different. The humans were generally of the same height as the elves, but they were broad-shouldered and burly, while the elves were thinner in comparison. They had round ears instead of pointed ones. They had red blood, not green.

Regardless of the differences, the elves had warmly welcomed these merry strangers to their land. Together they shared stories on breezy nights of wine and laughter, only possible because of the elves' ability to speak any language. How terribly mistaken the elves had been about their newfound friends.

The first lost elf, the elf maiden had heard, had been found near the edge of the forest, a broken wooden stick punctured into her heart. The next day her body crumbled into soil clumps, melting into the earth. As the other elves stared at the remaining splintered stick, they first sought to understand the humans' behavior from a compassionate point of view. But when they lost a third sibling, then a fourth and a fifth, there was no doubt what the humans were doing. They were hunting for the elf maiden. Broken arrows were scattered around the forest, each arrow a lost elf and a failed attempt. The bloodshed was as barbarous as it was barmy; it was as wicked and cruel. The victims had no way of defending themselves, for this was the first time they had experienced such violence. Their numbers continued to dwindle as days of terror ensued.

Yet even in the wake of betrayal the elves failed to hate their killers. They were born of the earth to love, not to become servants of inflamed desire. Even in their grief they continued to wish for peace, to reach out and heal the enemy as they remedied their own people. Still the monsters mauled their prey, not letting a single elf off the remote island of Revior. The island that had once been praised as a land of paradise because of its sequestered location was now a great misfortune upon the elves.

Thud!

The elf maiden gasped in horror when her eyes met a sharp silvery point, inches away from her forehead. The tree's bark wrapped around the metal arrowhead before pushing it back out and filling the hole. Her blood ran cold. The pupils in her watery eyes quivered and the hairs on the nape of her neck bristled.

Another whistle rushed past the tree, and then came the worst pain she had ever known. This time, it erupted in her heart. It engulfed the part of her that she wanted most to share with others, her light and hope, her munificent heart. It didn't sting, it burned, like an invisible flame ensued by the loss of her family. Her mother. Rage burned along with the pain, overwhelming it within seconds, hissing through her body like acid and screeching for release in the form of vengeance. She let the anger boil within her a few seconds longer, steadying her breaths before reaching a decision.

For my people!

She willed the tree to make way for her, but it delayed in compliance.

"Heed me," she ordered. "My mother is no longer here."

Slowly, as if reluctantly, the old tree thinned its bark, forming a hole large enough for her to walk through. She closed her eyes when light fell upon her, feeling undeserving of the sight of the forest she had been entrusted to protect. What an agony she had come to be in. Her heart now laden with sorrow and guilt, she mourned a song that lived inside her, as trapped as she had been in the darkness of her present.

As she stepped out of the old tree, she could only accept the sounds and smells of her home that she had kept away from for so long. In that moment she became a part of the gift of nature, of a multi-dimensional creation of time and space. The leaves that once covered her body danced to the symphony of the birds, whispering their songs to the wind. The air was rich with the fragrance of the forest. Each breath of hers drew in a different sweet aroma. She felt the earth between her toes, each step sinking deeper into the damp soil. She heard the voices of the trees that surrounded her, greeting her with warmth and solace. As countless arrows whizzed past her, she chorused out the last lines of her song, completing her enchantment.

The humans would pay with their lives.

Her long arms turned into branches as her pale legs darkened and twisted into a thick brown bark. Her toes extended into roots, grabbing hold of fleeing enemies and entangling them. Mid-air she squeezed them, and warm liquid gushed out of the shrieking humans as their organs spilled out onto the forest floor, staining the ground red. Sometimes she kissed their faces with the tip of the roots as they closed their eyes, powerlessly submitting to death as the roots sucked their life force away. Sometimes she would just bury them alive.

Feeling lighter the more she killed, she shot past the canopies of the trees that supported her with their own roots, slicing through the clouds like the arrows that pierced her siblings. Dark crimson roses started to bloom, standing out against the thick green leaves of her crown. She sighed, delivering her final words for the forest.

This forest will live on. The birds will continue to sing, the trees will dance in the wind, and wildflowers will continue to rise from the earth. But if a human enters, they will not leave unharmed. The forest will drain their life force and sting them with disease.

That was the last elf's eternal command, a wish granted at the cost of immortality.

Her mother's face flashed across her mind, and a tear slid down her cheek, falling onto a leaf as her now lifeless body sank into the core of the tree.

For my people.