Bereft: Demise

14 | Of Elves Deadly and Dear

When I opened my eyes, I knew touching the leaf had been a very idiotic thing for me to do. I knew this because I was no longer in Crow's End. I wasn't even in England.

Egoism demanded I not panic, though the temptation to do so was dire as I spun where I stood, taking in the view of the grassy valley. A summer breeze crossed my face and caught my loose hair in its playful fingers. The sun hung just above the horizon, coating the sky in every conceivable shade of orange and yellow. Crimson highlights hovered upon the border of a monolithic forest where the wide trees were gilded with golden leaves.

Where is this? I silently asked as I held my arms out before myself. Though I felt solid, my limbs were somewhat transparent and ghostly. Is this another dream?

The long grass stalks rustled. I looked up and realized I was not alone. 

They stood on the crest of the knoll, gazing off into the distance toward something I could not see. All seven wore strange articles of clothing, such as knee-high boots and black breeches with wide, knotted sashes slung about their narrows waists. Their shirts were double-breasted and streamlined, the sleeves tight on their wrists and chests. Thin chains of gold were woven through their fingers and connected to bands on their forearms.

I was next to Peroth, of all people. The Sin's keen eyes were the same, but he appeared younger, his hair a lighter brown. His features were also thinner and more fine-boned, his ears tapered into fine, elven points.

He turned, lips quirking with a private thought. "What do you think?"

Startled, I opened my mouth to respond—but Peroth wasn't speaking to me. I did not think the man could see me. The Sin at my back, the one I had never laid eyes on before, sighed and responded. 

"We've little choice in the matter," he said, squinting his deep-set, juniper colored eyes. His light, pallid hair was kept short and braided against his scalp above his long ears. The intricate twists worked into the fine strands were complimented by a thread of blue. "I won't take us back into the Stormwood, and the Black closes in upon us. We'll need to stop here for the night."

Peroth nodded, though I noticed how his ringed hand fidgeted and brought his thumb and forefinger together with a blade of grass trapped in-between.

A familiar scoff hit my heart like an electrical current. As with Peroth, Darius's features were slimmer and more delicate, but I knew it was him. He strode from the opposite end of the knoll, thumb wrapped over the hilt of a single-edged sword knotted in his sash. His dark carmine hair was long and bound at the nape of his neck by a crimped bit of intricate metal. Strands of it fell across his face and brow like blood red scratches.

His eyes were a vivid cyan blue. This has to be a dream...right? I wasn't certain. The quality of the scene was unequivocally dreamlike, and yet it felt real. The wind against my cheeks and the sunlight on my hair was tangible. The world was brimming with robust color and the fragrance of dewy earth. The absence of the terrifying titan and the monochrome fractals ascertained this wasn't a dream, and yet....

I attempted to prod the nearest Sin—Peroth—in the arm. My incorporeal finger passed through him.

Yelping, I jerked away and decided it best to keep my hands to myself.

"We should fight them," Darius stated, his strange eyes intent upon the Sin Peroth had addressed. "Outside of the wood, we have the advantage, Tehgrair."

The Sin—Tehgrair?—gave the well-meaning sigh of an overtaxed parent. "The Black are never without advantage, Darius," he chided. "Kings above and below only know when you will learn caution."