Avaleade: An Old Elf's Tale

Chapter One

Asaal took a deep breath. The festivities were over, and her staff was seeing to her guests' departures, allowing her momentary solitude. She was getting old, nearly 75,300 years old now, and she was beginning to feel it. She used to be able to hold month-long soirees to celebrate the coming of the Oracles with energy left over to travel, but these past generations of Oracles have had her winded by the end of the second week.

Her deep-sea-blue hair was not yet turning white, nor was her sparkling, light blue skin pulled by wrinkles, yet she felt so very tired. She rested in one of her palace's many meeting spaces, poised ever-so-gracefully in a plush throne. The smell of old parchment bound in leather permeated the room, and her eyes took in the many books around her. A fond smile graced her full lips.

This room was once a favorite of an old friend. Memories of the young Human Royal danced behind Asaal's eyes as the sapphire orbs twinkled in the mage light.

"Your Majesty?" a soft voice called from the open door. Asaal found Saou, a student and handmaiden of hers, waiting patiently for her response by the door.

"Yes, dearest Saou? What is it that requires your calling upon my attention?" she sat up straighter in her seat, searching within herself for her composure.

"The Oracles and their father, Kohbo, request a private audience, now that the banquet is over," she seemed nervous to be asking, and Asaal's heart melted at the young Lilressen girl's sweet nature.

"Please relay to them that they may enter, for I would like nothing more at this moment than to be in their presence," she stood as Saou hurried away, and she smoothed any wrinkles in her gown that her prior posture may have caused, noting -and not for the first time- that she had been gaining an oddly surplus amount of weight since the end of the Second War, and she would soon need new dresses.

"Your Majesty," a short, frail, tan-skinned man appeared at the door. His clothes, though being of Vastratan materials, were well made and looked to be of exceptional quality. Chestnut hair was pulled loosely back from his pinched, narrow face and tied in a loose bun atop his head. His wings were nearly as large as him and matched his hair on the outer side, while the inside of them were white peppered with black specks.

"Honorable Kohbo, it is a pleasure to speak with you privately this fine evening. I understand you found the banquet agreeable in nature?" Asaal's words were slow and pronounced, such was the speech pattern of most Sea Elves. She noted that though the Vastratans always seemed to be in a hurry, they were quite calm creatures. Their abnormally short lives kept them ever-moving, much unlike the Sea Elves, who on average lived to see hundreds upon hundreds of Vastratan generations pass.

"The pleasure's mine! An' the banquet was the most wonderful event I've been to ever!" Kohbo's narrow face was bright with joy as his twin children emerged from behind his large wings. One boy and one girl, Mier and Salen respectively, stood shyly behind their father's legs. Mier's straight hair was the deepest shade of black, while Salen's head was framed in the purest white curls the Vatrtatans had ever seen. Strangely enough, neither child shared their father's bright, golden eyes. Much like every pair of Oracles since the Coming of the Three, the twin with the dark hair had deep, fierce blue eyes, while the white-haired twin's eyes were like sparkling rubies.

"Oh goodness me! Young Oracles, it is unbelievably superb to behold your faces within my sight once again," Asaal cooed gently. Children had always been her weakness, especially ones with adorably tiny wings, "Dearest Mier, Wonderous Salen, come here to me!" she knelt down in one gracefully fluid motion for them to approach, and they obliged shyly. "How may I be of service to your Graces?" Once close enough, she ruffled their hair affectionately as their father spoke.