From Ashes and Snow

A Call for Help.

Chapter Twelve: A Call for Help.

I was dreaming.

Everything seemed doused in tinges of silver as I stepped in freshly fallen snow, wondering how I had gotten here and why the thick white walls of Dratlan were somehow still standing. Above me, the stars blazed in wonderous glory and spread for miles across the inky blackness of the sky. The wind was burdened with the sound of laughter and singing, and light spilled out through the small, glass-less windows.

I followed it with a heart that felt remarkably unburdened, though I knew there was something wrong here.

Fires were lit in the braziers as I passed under the arch I knew so well. Fresh flowers lined the baskets hanging from the wall, their colours bright and their heady scent seeped towards me. I paused for only a moment, brushing a finger-tip along the soft petals of flowers that were kept alive so carefully during the coldest weather with nature's own magic.

The walls of Dratlan were covered in mosaics of designs made by souls who had lived hundreds of years before me- when a whole other collection of Elves lived here.

The design of the Elder-blue, the most sacred tree of out people was carved into the walls of the main hall. The smoothened white stone was familiar and comforting under my finger-tips as I walked dreamily, taking in the sights like a starving woman. Every hallway here told a story. Instead of tapestries, the walls were etched designs that told the story of our people. Of the Elves dominions over Cadelith and how the Empire was not an empire under our care but land that prospered with the magic and care of the Elven folk.

Then a ship crashed at the bay of Naredan. Strange, magic weak folk with rounded ears appeared and they were rescued and given the best care and attention under the command of the Great Elven King Alaeran. The last King of Elves.

To some folk, it was the worst decision of the Elves. For when those men returned to their lands, word spread of the great land where the ground was laden with riches beyond measure and the earth was soaked with life. Greed drove the conquerors to our shores, for they didn't see it as our land.

I turned away; that story still caused an ache in my chest even though it was centuries ago. A kindness repaid in war and gifts that were given only to be returned with steal and greed.

I passed into the food-hall, staring at the scene in front of me. Elves sat along the sides, smiling and laughing, watching those dancing in the centre where space had been cleared. Kelin and Ater lead the instruments and the sight struck a painful chord in me – how many nights had I spent, watching and listening to their music which was so beautiful that it could make the stars themselves weep and turn the moon's eye on our keep.

Others were singing- their voices smooth and quiet, yet power reverberated in every word.

I laughed as two swung past me. Young Heslan shrieked with joy as the Elves reached for him, smoothing his hair down, flicking his ears playfully as he laughed. Affection for the child just saturated the room. Lovely dark eyes flickered to me as he passed, his smile widening as he called my name out joyfully before he was turned in tune with the dance.

My heart softened, and another voice called my name. There he was, standing at the centre of the room. My smile split my face, and a shudder of emotion rushed over me. Oh Kendon. His eyes were bright, like he shone from within and a smile pressed dimples into his cheeks.

"You are late!" He admonished, striding towards me. "When have you ever been late to an opportunity to sing and dance?"

He clasped my arms, his pale brows raised. I glanced down at the hands holding me, knowing that this wasn't a real. But I hoped, wished that this was all real. That I really was late, and everything had been a horrid dream.