Lore/Story Lari, the Chosen

Tears fall.

Tears are falling.

Fallen; tears have fallen, had fallen; will fall, eternally.


What were those tears?

Could it be that they were of water, glistening like stars upon a night sky?

Only, wavering, shimmering stars, upon a night black as white.


It was a wintry scene, only ever more bleaker than the harsh frost.

It was a colorful scene, a scene of color. That is, of a palette devoid of paint.

It was a scene bursting full of life; joy danced, pranced. At a glance, died.


It was her fault.



* * *



The time is long ago; but not too long, but long enough so that it is erased from the memories of but a select few, swept into the cluttered collection of events known as history, by the broom of time.


For Lari, or at least the Lari of the time, it was simply enough, now.


Two elves trudged on through the rain. Spring sang upon the earth once again, banishing the deathly winter to its confines from which it would escape once more, evermore, as the days grew longer and then shorter again. It was time enough, however, for the elves to make their way to their destination safely, unhindered by the cold.


As the snowcaps of mountains far away melted, and rivers rushed full of new life, the banks and woods surrounding it too gained new life. Voiceless blossoms sang their songs of brilliant colors, recounting tales of life, reciting epics of spring as a bard does of battle. The rapids roared, the water tumbling over itself in a frenzied race to the sea; and while they did, a lighter, more delicate sound, that of rainfall, faintly brushed by.


A flower with yellow petals stretched towards the ever so slightly obscured sun. “Look at that,” whispered a voice. “Spring! Welcome back, spring!”


Lari kneeled before the little plant. Behind her stood Elm, who took less interest in the wonders of nature, despite his name. He gave out a long sigh. “Magic charms may disperse the rain around us, but it's of no use if you lie in the mud all day. We’ll never get there and back within two months if you keep on stopping every few minutes.” Since childhood, it had always been an energetic Lari and a lecturing Elm.


Elm took a few steps down the path, then closed his eyes and lifted his chin towards the sky. After a few moments, he turned around and said with a knowing smile on his face, “Come on. It’s almost night.”


Their destination was an elven settlement north of the Gylia Plains. The region surrounding Gylia was untouched by the conquest of the Villagers and the Dwarves, though a Colossus stood among the volcanic mountain range that snaked downwards from the Molten Heights. It had stood watch over the lands west of the peaks, and legend had it that a similar Colossus was on the eastern side.


The elves were largely distrustful of the stony giant. Perhaps rightly so, for as few would have expected it, the Colossus shook the plains, the realms of the Elven kings whose civilizations were buried beneath a newly-formed canyon. It would become a Canyon of the Lost Cities, though even the true meaning of that name would be lost to time. That event would not be for millennia, though.


Lari and Elm had been sent on a diplomatic mission by the council of Aldorei. They were to make a trading deal with one of the northern nations, Ilsadir; and by extension, expand their influence and network of allies. Although it was considerably smaller and less populous than Aldorei, it was still a powerful nation, especially in its military, among the elves. It was a militaristic state, perhaps too militaristic, and its people were tough and proud.


Despite this, Ilsadir was still a nation reliant on trade. The northern taiga were largely unsuitable for crops, and as a result, they were dependent on the agriculture of the arable southern regions for their grain supplies.


Trade was mostly prosperous, though. Flowing through the central city of Ilsadir was a great river, allowing easy transport of goods. A complex system of dams and locks had been built, giving control over the streams and riverflows that were so vital to the livelihood of many of Ilsadir’s citizens. As a result, Ilsadir was not only known for its military might, but also its waterways, thus giving it the title of “River State.” This fact did not play into the hands of Lari and Elm, however, for boat travel upstream was even more strenuous than walking on foot, so they decided to travel by land.


For Lari, the mission was her first time out in the vast expanses of the world, a spectacle for the naive girl who dreamed eternally.


“Do you think that they’ll welcome us?” Elm made his inquiry.


The ever-optimistic Lari gave her ever-optimistic answers. “Of course! Who knows what wonderful banquets and feasts they’ll hold. I’ve always been curious: do the elves of the Northern States eat the same foods as we do? Or do they eat other things? Maybe they grow different crops than us.” Lari bounced along the muddy path, still wet from the rainfall. “Or, maybe they eat bugs. Ick! For some reason, I feel like I’d still try it out. Who knows! Maybe they raise bugs as livestock!”


A butterfly darted from out of the woods surrounding the two, flapping its brilliant orange wings under the sunshine of the now-clear skies. Lari eyed the insect.


The butterfly fluttered before Lari. “I wouldn’t eat you,” she said to the ignorant creature, which was deaf to her words. After a few moments, it then made its way to the other side of the road.


Her companion shook his head. “Perhaps whether the court of Ilsadir will welcome us isn’t even the greatest of our worries. Hostility is growing between the peoples of the Northern States, and armed bands of soldiers roam the countryside. Though they won’t admit it, they’re all itching for each other to make the first move, practically looking for a fight.” Elm looked Lari in the eyes. “Be wary of your surroundings. And not just the birds and flowers.”


After explaining the situation to Lari, Elm readjusted his pack, shifting the straps around, and the two once again continued down the road towards their destination.


Their trek was, for the most part, quiet, but it certainly wasn’t without noise. Birds chirped and frogs croaked, and the gurgling of nearby streams was ever present. Sunlight was scattered by droplets of water still clinging to the leaves of ferns. Although Elm was not an enthusiast of the wilderness, he had to admit that the serenity of the woods was relaxing.


Eventually, the sky was set alight with the flames of dusk. The sun made its retreat into the west, leaving behind a trail of orange, purple, and then finally a deep blue, which eventually faded into the darkness of night. Like sugar scattered across a black cloth, the stars made great contrast to the night sky.


Being young and full of energy, the two continued to walk even as the onset of night had come. Only until they could see but a few meters in front of them did Lari and Elm finally stop to settle down for the night. It was well near midnight, and they had only chosen to go no further because they had no choice but to do so.


Elm passed Lari a pendant enchanted by the charmcrafters of Aldorei. “Here, take this,” he said in the dark. Holding it in her hands, muttered a few words, and lit a fire with the magics imbued in the gemstone, then returned it to him. Finally, drowsiness began to hang in the air. As sleep eventually overcame the travelers, sparks flew into the sky, mingling with the stars.



* * *



Awaken, my pulse.


Her eyelids fluttered open as a booming voice reverberated through the forest. Lari swept her surroundings with her gaze, but she saw naught but the trees and ferns of the woods, only slightly illuminated by the fire. Elm was still soundly asleep, as if nothing had happened that would wake up the two elves.


Awaken, to truth.


“Who... are you...,” the still half-asleep Lari whispered into the darkness. Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind became dizzied. She slowly crawled out from under her blankets, attempting to stand up, stumbling. As she staggered through the woods, the voice started once again:


Awaken, to the Light.


The sun rose and morning dawned upon the forest- no, not a single sun, but ten, a hundred, an innumerable amount. Wood, leaf, and earth became light, a light blindingly bright. Lari lifted her arms in front of her face, in an attempt to block out the brilliant rays that pierced her eyes. It was of no use, however, for her arms too became light, and her spirit drifted from her body, now immersed in the incomparable radiance.


Awaken, the world to my Light.


Then, as quickly as it had come, the dazzling light blinked out of existence, leaving Lari alone in the night.



* * *



Footsteps rustled in the woods. Dark figures brushed by bushes, muttering to one another. The sun had not yet risen, but she figured it was already the next day, for she and Elm had gone to sleep late the night prior.


Lari opened her eyes, waking up to a faceful of dirt. She pushed herself up. Curiously, she was quite a large distance away from the fire, a trail of footprints leading to her current position from the now far-away flames. “I guess that was more than a dream,” Lari whispered to herself. But a few moments after she made that remark, the fire went out, and she was bathed in darkness.


The sound of footsteps shuffling surrounded her. A man pointed a spear in her direction. Lari had no time to react as someone in armor grabbed onto her from behind. “Let... go!” she said between breaths. Thrusting her elbow backwards, she tried to loosen her attacker’s hold, but it was to no avail, for it met with steel plating, sending a jolt through her arm.


As she struggled, Lari grasped her pendant in her pocket, then pressed it against the unprotected neck of her assailant. Reeling backwards, the steel gauntlet let go of her. The spearman, watching his comrade fall, then swung his weapon towards Lari. Deftly, she dodged the arcing spearhead. Lari sidestepped his jabs with agility.


Her surprise attackers had the same pointed ears as she did, and from this she deduced that they were elves similar to herself. Their identity remained a mystery, however, for the night was still too dark for Lari to make out any finer details. Nor was the crest the spearman bore on his tunic unobscured by the lack of light. Lari usually prided herself in her eyesight, and she sighed in frustration.


Yet another source of frustration arose. Despite being able to avoid the attacks of the spearman, she had no weapons of her own, and thus was unable to counterattack. Seeing as her only option was to flee, Lari leapt sideways, hoping to lose them in the darkness of the night among the trees.


Only, she was met with an iron-clad fist, and her vision went blank.



* * *



For the third time in that eventful morning, Lari awoke. Lightning struck her body as she remembered the scuffle of last night, and she bolted upright. Panic dispelled the hazy fog of unconsciousness, and she came back to her senses.


“Lari.”


Instantly, she came face to face with a battered and bruised Elm. Feeling light-headed and having a throbbing skull, she assumed she was equally as injured. “Elm,” she whispered back. In an attempt to stand up, Lari shifted her arms. Her movements were met with resistance, however. Ropes bound her wrists. All of Lari’s struggles ended in failure to break free from her bonds. She sat in the back of a wagon, across from a similarly tied up Elm.


Each and every divot or rock that passed under its wheels jolted the wagon, making their travels, now restrained, a chaotic scene of disarray, its confusion furthered by the dimness of the early morning. Although nothing prevented her from doing so, Lari decided that staying quiet would be the best plan of action. She looked Elm in the eyes, as if trying to communicate with him telepathically.


Elm slid over beside Lari. A knife was held in his fingers. Slowly and without a word, he sawed away at the ropes restricting Lari’s movement. To Lari, the sound, although not very loud, was painfully obvious. Waiting for the threads to break and the knots loosen, she held still, holding her breath. Neither the men on horseback in front of the wagon nor the ones asleep in the front compartment seemed to have noticed as Lari slid her now free arms out from under her. Elm then motioned towards his own ropes.


He set the knife down on the wooden boards of the wagon. Tense, Lari made great efforts to stay quiet as she leaned to face Elm. Slowly, she extended her hand towards where the knife rested.


The wagon rattled, and the knife skidded along the floor of the compartment, coming to a rest by the edge of the wagon’s rear. Lari stood up and stepped tentatively.


She leaned over the tool, precariously balancing. As she shifted her weight, a board creaked. Instantly, she froze. After waiting and deciding that it was safe to continue, she reached out-


“Damn it!” cried a voice up front.


A gray silhouette could be seen in the forest by the road. Yellow eyes flashed in the darkness of the young morning. The horses pulling the wagon neighed and whinnied in fear as the wolf snarled at them. In a panicked frenzy, the horses threw their hooves up and sped down the road, throwing Lari off balance. “Calm the horses!” another yelled.


Tumbling out of the back of the wagon, Lari rolled through the dust and found herself alone on the path as the wagon with the still-captive Elm traveled far off into the distance. Gripped in her fist was the ornate knife Elm had used to cut her bonds. Indeed, she had succeeded in grabbing it without alerting the armed men, but what use was it of now? Still, Lari decided to keep it on her; she’d might as well. She bounced it in her palm, admiring the intricate grain of the wooden handle.


Then, locking eyes with the wolf, she glared at it. “You! Shoo, now!” she said, frustrated that she was unable to free Elm. With that, the wolf trotted off into the depths of the forest.



* * *



Lari trudged on alone through the woods.


As it had happened, the wagon seemed to have gone off in the same direction as she herself was supposed to have. That is, towards the north, on the road to Ilsadir and the surrounding states.


The ferns rustled. Lari turned to face the noise. Behind a tree, bushes shook. Holding the knife in front of her, she said briskly, “Who is it? Show yourself.” She readied herself to fight against a potential attacker. Perhaps the ones from before had come back for her. While thinking that, she realized she had no idea what the source of their belligerence was. Why had they attacked? What inspired them to capture her and Elm? If they were the common bandit party, it wouldn’t have made sense for them to take Lari and Elm captive.


A head emerged from behind the tree. Only, it appeared at chest-level, and it was not the face of a man, but the face of a wolf greeted her.


“You, again!” said Lari with as much hostility as she would have if it were a human assailant that had shown itself to her. “What do you want from me, wolf? If you’ve come to eat me, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Lari waved her knife through the air. She doubted that she could fend it off, and hoped that it would be startled and run off after hearing her yell.


It made no move, however. Now, in the light of day, Lari could see that the wolf was a rather majestic creature. With sleek gray fur and a strong stature, it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t beautiful. “Oh, well.” sighed Lari.


Seeing that the wolf lacked signs of aggression, she turned away. Taking a deep breath, Lari continued to walk towards Ilsadir. “I hope Elm’s alright. If I weren’t all by myself, maybe I could do something about it. The council of Ilsadir might be able to help me track down those guys. I guess all I can do is get to where I need to get right now.”


A patch of flowers grew by the side of the road. Like fallen sunlight, they stood out vividly, so much so that they might have been burning. Lari let out a sigh. “No one to stop me from admiring the flowers now, huh.”


She knelt before them, despondent. As she looked upon the flowers, a gray mass entered her field of view.


Lari raised her head. Before her stood the wolf, yet again. “Why are you here?” she murmured. What had brought this creature before her, again and again? Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was destiny. Perhaps, it was a matter of perception. Was the wolf following her, or had she, somehow, willed this wolf to appear?


It watched her with large, yellow eyes, similar in hue to the petals below. And in them, she saw an intelligence. Always had she appreciated the spring blooms, the songbirds, and the picturesque scene of a perfect woods, but not until now had she thought about the wolves. With an almost human emotion, or perhaps one conjured by Lari’s lonely mind, the gray creature gazed at her. Those eyes, they talked to her. “You mourn a person not lost,” said the wolf.


“Maybe that is true,” said Lari. “But I cannot help it.”


“But you can, can you not?” replied the wolf, wordlessly. “He will appear one way or another. Just wait for the time to come; and you need not wait long, for it will come soon. Your actions will inevitably guide you to him. Have confidence.”


Upon hearing those words, Lari was revitalized. “Thank you, friend wolf.”


As she stood up tall and proud, glancing at the knife Elm had left behind in her palm, the wolf, clueless as to what the sounds the human made had meant, turned tail and scurried into the brush.



* * *



Lari continued down the path. In the distance, in a clearing in the heart of the forest, wavering torches danced. “Ilsadir!” she exclaimed. Knowing she was on the final stretch of the road, she quickened her pace. Triumph raced through her mind. Lari practically leapt in joy.


As she grew nearer and nearer, the torches seemed to become ever more intense, growing more frenzied with Lari’s jubilation. Brighter and brighter became the torches in the eyes of Lari, until they were no longer torches, but pure brightness, but too-bright. No, it was not just her eyes playing tricks on her; it was most definitely bright. Perhaps even familiarly bright. It was-


the Light... my pulse.


Lari stepped forward, into the eternal expanse. It was not the same blinding light from before, but rather a dazzling display of all colors. Continuing infinitely into the rainbow horizon in two straight lines on either side of her were columns of marble. When Lari looked closely, she found that it was not marble, but instead a glowing mineral inlaid with golden veins, like lightning arcing through a blank sky. Albeit unable to see her destination, she continued to walk nonetheless.


“Who are you?” said Lari.


Who are you? echoed the voice. It could not be said that the voice was repeating after her; rather, Lari’s own speech and thoughts were reflected in this realm, like a mirror. Then, as her thoughts resounded through the unending plane of light, another phrase was heard:


Who am I?


“Why... I’m Lari, of course,” Lari muttered. “Lari hailing from Aldorei. I’m Lari.”


Am I?


The voice spoke, inquired, questioned.


What is a name? A cloak that but veils?


She was at a loss for words. So carefree had she lived; not once did she ever sit down to contemplate such ideas. Lari spoke up. “Then, who am I?”


Naught but a blank slate. An innocent, naive girl. Now, nothing. But destiny holds much more...


For the first time in her life, Lari opened her eyes.


Be more. The woods protect the you of then. Now, become the guardian of the realm. Bring the influence of Light upon this world. My pulse...


My chosen.


A new light dawned upon her mind. “I understand,” she exhaled, invigorated. Lari took a deep breath, then said, firmly, “I understand.” This was an unimaginable opportunity, and she would dedicate herself to it. It was now her time to shine.


Be wreathed in the power of Light. Channel my energy. But first-


A door bathed in light materialized before Lari. The door was not on the same grandiose scale as that of the pillars surrounding her, instead appearing to be rather worn, as if it had withstood centuries of weather and erosion. Roots and vines had raced up the frame, and it looked that the winner had been decided long, long ago. Through it, clouds of earthen dust swirled.


I present to you a test.


“And I accept,” Lari stated as she stepped through the gate.


Where intricate pillars once were, houses stood, interweaved with canals. Where an endless open corridor once stretched-


Elm stood, surrounded by armed soldiers, each bearing an eagle crest. That is, the crest of Ilsadir.



* * *



“Pah! Traveler from Aldorei! From all the way down south?” exclaimed one soldier as he jostled Elm in the ribs. Although he was no longer bound at the wrists, he did not retaliate. Already battered and shaken, he seemed to lack the energy to waste in a useless demonstration of resistance against the jeering men.


Their laughter was loud, but what would have truly caught one’s attention was the constant rumbling of waterfalls. Albeit distant, the noise seemed so massive in the open air that it could not be ignored. From where she stood, Lari could see the white water tumbling and spilling from out of a massive stone dam. If not for the tense situation, she would have stayed and stared in amazement for a while. Mist rose and was dispersed into the air, forming great clouds of vapor; and how great was the magnificent, rolling thunder that accompanied them.


Elm grumbled something inaudible. “Hm, what’s that? Speak up.” Elm stayed ever silent. “Can’t speak? Gonna bawl and scurry off to- Aldorei! Pah! -and ask for their support?” roared one. The soldier continued, “Well, you’d better say what you’ve got to say before you’ve gone hoarse from breathing coal dust in the mines! And it’d better be the truth; you can’t fool us. Tell us which state sent you to sneak across our lands, c’mon!” All but the downcast Elm chuckled, who did not seem to see what was so funny about becoming a slave.


Something flashed in Elm’s hands, but in the eyes of the men escorting him, who were too caught up in their boisterous jokes, it went unnoticed.


In the midst of the soldiers’ laughter, a voice made its inquiry. Elm glanced around. “Hey. Would you like to hear- a joke?” he said.


The soldiers, all grinning, nodded, and gave a series of replies. “Yeah, tell us a joke! Finally loosening up, eh?” one soldier said snarkily. Then, placing his hand on his knee, he bent over in raucous laughter. The others followed suit, reeling. Who did this person think he was? A comedian? “C’mon, c’mon!” Clearing his throat, Elm spoke clearly and loudly:


“What happens when you light a match in the arsenal?” The men sobered up. Inhaling deeply, Elm then prepared to reveal the answer.


“Boom.”


Throwing down the fire pendant he had kept hidden in his pocket, Elm leapt between an opening in the soldiers and ducked his head beneath his arms. Flames rocketed skyward and a searing wave blasted him and the soldiers from out of the street. Crashing through cloth-covered booths, Elm landed upon a few now broken boxes of fruit, covered in berries. Quickly springing to his feet, Elm thought for a split second, then made the wise move not to fight, but to flee.


He crashed through vegetable and jewelry, through reds and greens and golden hues, some likely deceptive, tipping over crates of all sorts of wares. As Elm created a sea of chaos in his wake, pursuing soldiers stumbled and slipped through the juice-stained streets. “Grab that man! Seize the enemy spy!” yelled an enraged and uniform-clad man, who had been standing at a fruit stall. His face was purple from fury, or perhaps, more likely, fruit jam. He bore not only the crest of Ilsadir, but a badge not seen on any others; he was likely a soldier of rank and recognition.


“Guards! Soldiers! Heed the word of your Grand General, and the bringer of the King’s will! Kill the fool who calls himself a diplomat of peace!”


Quite the rank and recognition, to be the highest ranking officer and commander of Ilsadir’s entire military. Equally high was his ego; to be covered in fruit preserves and sausages in the middle of the street was not a very happy thing, and to make a ruckus over this, in his eyes, was just and righteous.


A sea of soldiers flowed around Lari, who had been standing at the gates for the entire time as she watched the scene unfold. Soldiers rushed forth in surprising numbers. Perhaps it was not so surprising, however, for in the domain of Ilsadir, all families were to send an able-bodied youth to serve as a soldier, even in times of peace; though times of peace were scarce for the proud people of Ilsadir, who lunged at every opportunity to bring upon themselves and their nation honor and glory.


They were a surging tide, a tsunami that would chase and drown the ragged Elm through the winding paths and alleyways. Curiously enough, from Lari’s view, they seemed rather sluggish. It was as if time had slowed down- no, indeed, it was slowing down. The streams of soldiers became frozen.


Then, in the crowd, Lari spotted Elm. Silks and tableware were suspended in the air around him, and in his hands. His face was angled back, contorted into a panicked expression, checking the unmoving soldiers on his tail. Slowly, in the midst of the still scene, his eyes moved, even as his limbs remained still, like a statue running forever, only to get nowhere. His eyes locked with Lari’s. They glowed golden. A hollow wind, like a rasping breath, blew from behind her.


Your challenge, your trial.


Elm’s lips slowly moved, but as if possessed by a ghost, for no matter how realistic the movements were, they were eerie and lifeless.


You are presented with a choice, but there is only one option.


Said the marionette that was Elm; and the puppeteer was no other than-


Choose well, my pulse.


And like that, time sped forward once again, and life was restored into the world. Boots stomped and weapons clattered. Weaving through the reanimated soldiers, Lari made her way through the city, but not on the same path as Elm. Cutting through the alleys, she planned for her path to intersect with his. Arcing across the city, Elm ran for his life; and if he were to keep on running, as he was, he would eventually find himself by the great dam.


She raced past stalls and shops of all kinds, past the clang, clang of blacksmiths and the chop, chop of butchers. Lari shuddered at the thought of Elm being sliced up by the swords of the soldiers. “Hang in there, Elm. I’ll do something about it.” Truth was, she knew she couldn’t deal with the innumerable amount of guardsmen. Still, she hoped she could divert their attention and hopefully give Elm the chance to steal a horse, burst through the gates, and escape into the forest.


Stopping before a booth on the street, she snatched a blue, shimmering charm from before a salesman. “Thanks, I’ll need that,” Lari said as she caught her breath. Holding it in her fist, she chanted a few lines of magical verse. Then, she jumped into a canal.


She was not met with water, but ice. The canal froze beneath her as she sprinted towards the dam. By avoiding the crowded streets, Lari was able to make her way to her destination much faster than Elm and the soldiers following him. Eventually, the clamors of soldiers once again filled the air. It seemed Lari had predicted Elm’s actions correctly. Making her way to intercept Elm, she climbed out of the canal, then ran towards the noise in the streets.


Elm ran furiously down the streets, jumping through stalls and vaulting over wagons. Behind him, soldiers ran and shouted whatever they had to shout. They bumped into one another and tripped each other, and they might’ve been able to catch Elm if they hadn’t been squeezed between the houses on either side of the street in their massive numbers. Several fell into the canals, swearing as they were soaked in the freezing water. Perhaps the army of Ilsadir was more renowned for their combat in the woods, and not in the cramped city webbed with bridges and waterways.


The soldiers passed before Lari. That their paths would intersect here; that much she had guessed. Here, however, Elm had no choice but to continue running towards the dam. Cornered, Elm made the only choice he could: scale the dam.


Climbing up scaffolding, Elm made his way upwards. The wooden beams shook with the weight of himself and the soldiers. In pursuit, the soldiers too rapidly ascended. “Gah!” cried Elm, as one soldier, hot on his tail, sliced the air behind his feet. With that, the rung of the ladder he had been standing upon broke, leaving him dangling by his arms. Hurriedly, Elm hauled himself up to the next level of the scaffolding, as the soldiers, slowed down by the broken ladder, lifted each other upwards. Soon, Elm would make it to the very top of the dam.


Finally, he stood upon the crest of the great stone structure. There he stood, between the sides of the gorge. From up there, the city sprawled beneath him. The cliffs on either side of the river opened up, and houses littered the land down below, making their way all the way to the base of the cliffs. A stream flowed down from where the outlets merged, snaking its way through the city. Several small canals and ditches branched off from it, spreading across the landscape like veins.


Elm stood in the very middle of the dam. On one side of the structure, soldiers funneled upwards and onto the dam. On the other, Lari yelled towards the rapidly approaching figure. “Elm!” she shouted, waving her arms.


Something glinted in Elm’s hand. A red hue glimmered in the sun, like a blazing inferno. As he drew his arm back, preparing to hurl it, Lari realized what it was that he held. Only, it was not a tiny pendant, but a massive jewel, of a size Lari had never bore witness to and containing a great energy Lari hoped to never see be released in the fashion she knew Elm was going to. That is, to obstruct the soldiers’ paths by cleaving the dam in two, and preventing his pursuers from reaching him, and as a consequence releasing the water upon the city.


Light.


A violent, blazing light in his palm. Shimmering sunlight reflecting across the surface of the water. Which way shall this light be cast?


Two choices lie before you.


The first: allow him to act. Escape to the side of the gorge and make your escape along the mountains. A city, drowned, as their pride shatters.


And the second: kill Elm.


She knew what was required of her. At that moment, Lari made the unthinkable choice.



* * *



One life spared at the cost of a hundred.


One hundred lives saved at the price of one.


It was the right choice.

It was, ultimately, the best option.

It was what saved the lives of countless innocents.


Friend and foe to herself. Life-long companion, lifeless.


With that knife that had cut the bonds of the carriage, Elm was freed. A favor unreturned. The hand gripping the lost strength, its hold loosening on the wooden handle. Forlorn eyes looked at the ever-ornate, ever-intricate knife. The deep amber hue of the wood was mournful, somber.


A blazing flame clattered to the ground, not thrown, not bursting. Vibrant, violent red swirled within the depths of the charm. It twinkled like a wistful star, dull and colorless. So gray was the world, so gray was the final ragged, dying breath of Elm. In that scene, only one hue stood in contrast to the black and white universe. Scarlet blood stained Elm’s tunic, like a flower’s petals unfurling. What spring had blossomed, had bloomed?


So free was Elm. So quickly had his corporeal chains been broken, that when his head was tilted towards those yearning eyes that were gazing, seeking some far-fetched hope, his own eyes were already spiritless. The ghost that inhabited his shell had already departed, drifting through the wind, wandering its way to what lies next. Muffled sobs broke through, in this muffled scene.


An early frost spread across Elm’s face, banishing the summer that once shone in his eyes. Spring, summer, autumn, winter; but never spring again.


Tears fell upon Elm’s tunic. In the pressing void, there was no air to breathe.


“It was necessary, it was necessary. This was the right choice, the correct choice, the best option. Countless were saved; it was necessary.” A voice gasped, its breathing asymmetrical like a jagged rock. “Friend.”


Who had suffered?


Two? One; had he suffered? One; one too many.


My pulse, you are worthy!


Worthy of what? What praise was there to be given, to be received? To kill, was this worthy? For another’s life to be ended by one’s own hands; was this the definition of worthy? Was this intolerable feeling what it felt like to be- worthy?


My pulse, you are worthy!


A crooked laugh was elicited. Was it laughter? For the twisted expression of the trembling figure, leaning over a dead man, a dead friend, was indecipherable. Crooked laughter, crooked sobs; was there any difference?


The world became wreathed in light. Eyes glowed golden and angelic wings spread for the first time. Arms lifted the dead Elm, now seemingly weightless, into the air. As the two rose higher and higher, carried by those pure white wings, choked cries rang out. “Elm...” said a grief-stricken voice that seemed it would break at any moment. Gaining ever more altitude as the air passed by, the Chosen of Light flew without aim, but with direction; that is, upwards.


In the lofty sky, so free like a bird, Lari muttered, choked, practically sputtered out two words with incomparable anguish and sorrow:


“Never... again.”

 

'erry noice