Ravien

1

A soft rustle comes from the leaves as I shift my weight slightly. With a texture like velvet, the forest's debris has always been the most comfortable place to rest and think. My tranquility is marred however by the searing pain running down the length of my lithe body. Just hours ago I had undergone Lia'rien, the elven runing ceremony.

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Lia'rien was considered the most sacred of our ceremonies, signaling a young elf's rebirth into the world. In stark contrast to our usual life experience it is also the moment in each elf's life when they suffer the most. Surrounded by the rest of the clan, chanting in our eerie tongue, the young one is held by the roots of Ytrian. Our mother tree made a cage, we're the perfect prey for the priest slowly and excruciatingly carving glowing words into the skin. Before the light dulled, my runes had glowed a deep purple, almost black. As I squirmed and hissed in pain the clan had stepped back with a collective gasp. My hue had never been seen before.

Despite the exhaustion and utter pain that lanced through my body after the ceremony, I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could in my weakened state, wracked with sporadic spasms and convulsions. Eventually, I dragged myself into this small alcove hidden underneath the trees, dappled with the late afternoon sunlight and smelling faintly of crushed juniper. I found that surrounded by the soft voice of Ytrian and the twittering of birds, my pain gradually subsided and my mind cleared once more.

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Tentative fingers reaching back, I probe the tender skin of my back. Before the ceremony I had smooth, beautiful skin, painted in the soft silvers of the moon's lovely face. 'Now it's marred beyond belief with these disgusting runes' the bitter thought flits through my mind and I wince at the excruciating pain that rises afresh from wounds I'd momentarily forgotten about.

Before this ceremony, I thought the elves were the most majestic race of Elsinore. My younger self would look up at our buildings, craftily magicked into the surrounding forest, the sparks of power flitting through each elf's hair, fingers, and body, and the feats of magic even the youngest of our brood could perform. 'How could any race be better?' I'd think, in awe even after so many years in our secluded forest.

Now I know how wrong my younger self was. In truth, the elves are brutal. In my 300 years as an adolescent, I've only caught glimpses of the corpses our patrols would leave behind, horribly mangled beyond recognition. A "warning" to the unsuspecting victims that occasionally stumble into our sylvan abode. I've heard the brutal threats our queen will issue to "visitors" all masked behind a thin veneer of elvish manners.

Worst of all is this, this infernal ceremony that cripples young elves for years. It requires all the energy and concentration we can muster to heal. After all, we aren't allowed to mend our wounds with magic. Instead, we must let them close naturally, a process that can take hundreds of years.

The ceremony is concealed from the young ones. They aren't allowed to join the rest of the clan during a Lia'rien. I remember being herded as a youth into the most mesmerizing part of the forest, full of twinkling orbs, exotic magically grown flora, and the intoxicating fertility chant of Ytrian. In full grown elves, her song would create a kind of mating bacchanalia but in us youths, it acted as a trap. A way to keep our senses overstimulated so that we wouldn't leave for the duration of the Lia'rien.

After the ceremony we'd emerge from the alcove, eyes still slightly glazed, to find one of our own had disappeared into their home, not to return to us for years. When they did emerge they'd be covered in runes that we, naive youths we were, thought appeared as an elf aged.

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Fists clenched, teeth gritted, almost vibrating with anger, my decision is made. 'I am leaving and I am leaving right now.' Ignoring the crippling pain covering my body I climb one of the evergreen trees, the rough bark digging into my hands. Slowly so as not to tug on my wounds and ever so quietly, I head back to Ytrian. With her canopy towering over the rest of the forest I'll be able to regain my bearings.

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Carefully, I make my way down Ytrian's branches. Before I leave I take a last look at our mother tree. Her leaves are amber, her sap a deep ochre. She's been a part of my life since I was small, running beneath her canopy as a child. Her delicate yet wry branches, growing in intricate patterns of bone-white bark is the material we've favored for our bows and arrows for millennia. I have never known my parents, infants are separated from birth so they will be loyal to the clan and as a recluse I've never made many friends. The only nurturing presence I remember, Ytrian will be what I miss most in my flight.

Climbing down, I silently approach my own home. High in its pine tree, I formed it with my own magic, a feat previously unheard of from juvenile elves. It was I who created its flowing arches, adorned with knobs of polished sap and it was I who wove its trappings from Ytrian's large leaves. Reaching underneath my bed, formed from a shelf in the evergreen-scented wood, I pull out my rucksack. Moving with quiet urgency I stuff a change of clothes, a waterskin, and my hunting knife into the bag, my bow and quiver of arrows already lashed to my back.

Moving into the next room I wave a hand at the still water in the basin, magic dancing along the surface as the water freezes over. Hovering over the surface, now smooth as glass, I carefully paint my face in the colors of dappled leaves, an attempt at camouflage. Satisfied with the results I step out and begin the climb back down the towering pine.

Once I've reached the bottom I sprint, avoiding the well-worn paths and heading straight into the darker parts of the forest. Moving like a shadow I avoid thistles and thorns, hanging branches, and the low musical murmurs of the other elves.

I make it to the treeline heaving for breath, my strength sapped from the pain and briefly pause as I prepare to step out into the sunlight. Then, tentatively, I take my first step and my breaths deepen, my heart's chains loosen, and the pain seems to ebb away. For the first time in my life, I'm free.

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Happy New Years! I thought I'd release Chapter 1 as a New Years present to all you lovely people. I hope you enjoyed.

What do you think Ravien will find beyond the forest?

Let me know what you think. Till next time. :)