A week passed by in a slow, torturous crawl. I was beginning to forget what the sun felt like on my skin. What the wind felt like in my hair. What the grass felt like underneath the Weeping Willow tree.
A week wouldn’t normally seem like a long time, but when you are locked in a dirty hole underground without proper food and water, it tended to play tricks on your senses—on your mind, and on your spirit. I didn’t know how poor Ender could live so long down here. How could he last for so many years?
I had gone crazy after just a few days. I had no energy. It was exhausting just lifting up my head. The soup stuff was impossible to eat, despite my starvation. The only part I could tolerate was the tiny chunk of bread. I was grateful for at least that.
I couldn’t understand why I hadn't been hung yet. I genuinely expected to be executed for betrayal within a day of being here—yet, no one had come to get me. The only person that ever came by was the girl that delivered food.
I was truly confused.
“Ender?” I called out softly.
“Hm...” he moaned. I could tell right away just by that sound that today was not a good day for him. He would have his ups and downs. He’d be better one day, able to talk without fits of coughing, but then the next day he would be completely out of it.
My heart broke with each wheeze and rasp that came out of his lungs. I wished I could dream-weave. I wished more than anything I could call Rydan for help.
I slowly stood up to stretch my sore muscles. Except it didn’t last long. The motion caused the sensation of sand filling my head and a high-pitched ringing in my ears. My vision went black. I leaned against the cold, dirty wall so that I wouldn’t fall over.
Gradually, I recovered. My vision cleared, but I was still extremely weak. After walking to the door, I gripped the stone for a moment. Turning, my body scraped against the rough surface. I rested my back along it and slowly slid down to the ground, half-coherent.
“Will we ever escape?” I quietly said to myself.
“We will,” Ender answered just as quietly.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I felt bad forcing him to exert effort I knew he didn’t have.
“Why is it you give up hope?” he breathed.
“How do you not?” I countered.
“We have greatness on our side. We will not fail.” He sounded so confident.
“But we’re on different sides, aren’t we? You’re an Isil’Elda. I’m a Tavas’Elda. If you win, then I fail. If I win, then you fail. Which sounds more like a lose-lose situation to me. There is no hope anymore.” I wasn’t normally such a pessimist, but c’mon...look around...Mycah was clearly my enemy. I was a prisoner in the enemy’s dungeon—I had no way of contacting Rydan to tell him where I was. There could be no hope.
“You are mistaken, dear child. Yes, we have been catapulted into warfare. But you forget that you and I are not in the same war as everyone else. You and I, as well as Naminé, Rydan, and Remycah...we are in our own war. The war against Ohtar, and the war against inequality.”
“No, it is you who is wrong,” I corrected.
“How so?” He coughed.
“Mycah...he isn’t on our side. He’s with Ohtar now.”
“Remycah has his own path to follow. If you love him, like I suspect you do, should you not put trust in him?”
“I can’t possibly love him. Not after seeing what he did—what he’s probably doing right now as we speak! Who knows how many innocent lives he has ripped apart! I can’t love someone like that. I cannot possibly love an Isil’Elda soldier! And that’s what he is now! He’s one of Ohtar’s soldiers! He’s as bad as Sarqua—”
“Silence! Do not speak of King Remycah in such a way. I will not believe it. I will never believe it,” he shouted, followed by fits of ugly coughing and hacking. “You yourself have become a solider of your people. Is not Remycah only defending his own?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Ender has a world of disappointment waiting for him on the other side of this. The Mycah I knew and loved was gone. The Remycah who Ender knew and loved, was gone. The only Mycah left—was an Isil’Elda soldier, doing the evil Ohtar’s bidding.
And maybe I had become a soldier for my people, but it was only because they were the ones that needed defending. They were the majority losing their lives out there. Mycah was too powerful of a soldier.
It was now left up to Rydan. And I wanted to believe he could save us all—but I had seen him fight Mycah before.
Rydan didn’t stand a chance against him.
I decided to change the subject. I needed to get my mind off of depressing thoughts and things I couldn’t change.
“How did you know me as a baby?” I asked the wretched soul locked in the cell across from mine. I asked poor Ender.
“What?” he inquired softly.
“Mycah told me he saw into your thoughts when you were trying to figure out a way to escape Ohtar. You were there when I was taken to Kennebunkport. Please—tell me everything you know about me,” I pleaded quietly. I was determined to find out what happened back then. I was desperate to know who my parents were.
“Ahh...” he whispered.
“Please tell me.” I couldn’t take the suspense.
“When Queen Nariella bore you to this realm, it could not be denied you were fathered by someone other than King Aglar.”
“Queen? My mother is a queen?!” I whispered in a shocked rush. “Hold up—What does that mean? The ‘could not be denied’ thing?”
“That’s right. Your mother was the queen of Lassaira—The daughter of King Döron, who abdicated the throne to her once she had found a mate, as is tradition with us immortal eldas. For a female elda may only reign upon union with a male, and is a joyous custom each royal father wishes to bestow onto his daughter.
“And to answer your question—it could not be denied that you were not of King Aglar’s loins simply because of your hair.”
“My hair? Are you serious?” I questioned sarcastically.
“Of course I am serious, child.” Ender huffed in frustration.
“How so?”
“Like I mentioned, it is rather simple. Tavas’Elda are solely adorned by hair in shades of light. There is no such Tavas’Elda growing hair similar to the color of night, in any way or fashion, throughout our history. It is not of the Tavas’Elda race. Shades of dark belong to the Isil’Elda alone.”
“What are you saying? I’m not a Tavas’Elda?” I shook my head, confused.
“You are. And you are not. Your mother was Tavas’Elda, and your father was Isil’Elda. Your hair is a reflection of this, and King Aglar was overcome with rage upon laying eyes on you. It was proof of his mate’s betrayal, of her infidelity. You were, dear one, a slap in the face to King Aglar.”
“Is that why he hates me?” I asked in a small voice.
“You were a disgrace in his eyes. He could not have you a living proof of his humiliation—Of his Queen’s heinous act of treason. Yes, that is certainly why he ordered you to be killed immediately. Lord Döron intervened and saved his only granddaughter’s life. For I was there at the time.”
“Why? Why were you in enemy territory?”
“I...I loved your mother with all my soul. I would have done anything for her. I would have done anything to save our child.” He whispered so softly through strained tears, I could barely hear the words. And maybe it was because blood pounded against my eardrums.
“What?” The truth descended upon me slowly. It was registering—I could feel it was—but it took a few minutes for my brain to process what this meant.
“Whilst King Aglar believed you to be taken to your death, Döron risked his life to save our only daughter, to save his granddaughter. He risked the maidservant’s life, who brought you to me. I had been secretly concealed outside, concerned for the goddess I loved. I had known she was close to her labor. I waited. There was no hesitation once word was given that you were to be killed. I had no other choice but to ta
ke you to the Earthly realm in secret.”
“You...you’re my father?” I stuttered. My throat closed with emotion, and my eyes filled up with tears.
“Yes,” he softly cried. He was my father—I had finally met my birth father. After all this time.
I turned to face the heavy door and pressed my face against the cool iron bars holding me captive. I couldn’t see him. But slowly, a trembling, dirty, pale arm came into view across the way.
I immediately reached through my own bars, stretching as far as I could. Tears rolled down my face in quiet sobs.
Our fingers just touched.
“Hi,” I choked out through laughter. I was overwhelmed by so many different emotions. I still could not see him. But I could feel him. And his touch was enough to heal a big piece of my broken heart. A part of me that I never thought could be repaired.
“Forgive me for abandoning you, my child. It was treason to pass through any sacred Ëlemmiire, and I feared for your mother’s safety. I did what I must to save you, and I tried with all my power to save your mother. But I was too late.” Emotion strained his voice, strengthening my own tearful episode.
“There’s nothing to forgive. Thank you for saving my life,” I whimpered. I wiped my eyes and my nose, but it was pointless. The tears kept coming.
“Do not thank me. I would have given up my own life for yours and for your mother’s. It would be no sacrifice at all.”
“Why did she stay with King Aglar? Why didn’t she leave him for you?” I sniffed.
“It is elda custom that you do not leave the mate you are united with, especially, under no circumstance to an enemy. It would have cost your mother’s life, as well as my own, had it been known that she tainted herself with an Isil’Elda. With me. Let alone committing the deepest act of treachery a queen can make against her king—infidelity.”
“So...she’s dead?” I didn’t want to hear the answer, because in my heart I already knew what it was.
“Yes, my daughter. King Aglar extinguished her life before I could return from the Earthly realm. He claimed it was in childbirth that you both did not survive. But Lord Döron and I know the truth. He slaughtered her.” His voice was so gruff with emotion. I couldn’t take it—I broke down into sobs, missing the mother I would never get to meet. The mother I had always longed for with deep yearning, but now...now I knew that yearning would burn on forever.
“I am terribly sorry, my dear Nariella. Lord Döron and I were insurmountably grateful that we had been able to intervene and prevent both of you from perishing. We were at least grateful for your life. I then bestowed upon you your mother’s name in remembrance of her. As a token you may keep with you for the rest of your days. Nariella Ashwyn Woodlinn is a most cherished name among the Tavas’Elda—for they deeply loved their queen.”
“Thank you,” I whispered through tears. For the first time in my life, I actually was grateful for this name. I had grown up despising it because of Ray having made fun of it, or kids in school laughing once they had heard it. I had resented it. Then when Ray had told me that my parents had abandoned me in an alley with the name on my blanket, I had hated whoever they were for it. I had felt I wasn’t theirs to name if they were just going to throw me away like trash.
But now—all of that anger and resentment completely vanished. Bit by bit I was being healed by this elf—by my father—by the truth. I could finally let that pain go.
I could finally be proud of my given name. I could finally be proud to be Nariella Ashwyn Woodlinn.
And I was. I was proud to be both a Tavas’Elda and an Isil’Elda.
Chapter Thirty-Two
~Naminé~
Rydan knew something to be fiercely wrong with Nariella. We did not know how he knew, but he swore with all he had in him that there was something terribly wrong. It set my bones on edge the way he so desperately cared for her. I could not understand if there was something more than what was on the surface.
I wanted to believe he cared for me, as I cared for him. However, the way he reacted whenever it would come to this girl would lead me to believe that I was not as special to him as he was to me.
It was disheartening, but I could not ask for him to give up his relationship with Nariella if she was whom he truly cared more for. My heart ached with the very thought. I tried desperately to not think of it.
The moment we acquired Lómë, we immediately began our return journey to the castle. We had been traveling for days on end, but finally...finally with a sigh of relief, I saw that Castle Edhel-N’dor came to view upon its lofty position on the mountaintop.
It would not be long before we arrived.
Suddenly, the sound of a wild horn pierced the atmosphere. It came from the South. I knew that horn. It was familiar to me. It was the battle horn of the Tavas’Elda.
“Rydan, something dreadful is about to happen. That was the battle horn of Lassaira!” I ran upon a hill to get a better look. “Oh, dear Stars! Rydan, look! An army from Lassaira is at the castle’s door! A vicious battle is about to start!”
My heart broke in two, and I feared for my poor mother and father who I never had the chance to kiss goodbye.
Rydan took my hand in his and broke out in a run. “I have to get to Nari.”
We ran with the wind, our Fëa in tow, as fast as we could muster. I could already hear the uproar of fighting. The Tavas’Elda soldiers climbed the castle walls.
As we approached, I stopped to speak to a fallen Tavas’Elda solider.
“What is happening? Why are you doing this?” I asked in disbelief. I could see he was dying.
“The Princess. Princess Nariella. Lord Döron...must...save...her,” he exhaled his final breath and was no longer with us.
I looked to Rydan who stood next to me. “Oh, Rydan! Lord Döron of Lassaira is here to acquire Nariella! I do not understand—”
“Come on, let’s hurry,” Rydan replied.
We took the passage we had used to exit the castle before, and so we entered undetected.
“She’s...below us...or something. I can’t tell exactly, but I feel her for some reason,” Rydan said impatiently.
“The dungeon,” I offered, without stopping or resting.
We sprinted toward where I knew they must have been keeping her if Rydan’s description was correct.
“Wait!” I ordered, pulling Rydan back around a corner. A soldier corralled the prisoners out of the dungeon in a rush. There was one in particular I recognized.
By the Sea and Stars! I dropped to my knees, overcome by so many emotions. For I had spotted my dearest brother Cathar! He was alive.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Rydan inquired with concern. I sniffed and worked on composing myself.
“Rydan, that there is my brother! I must save him,” I answered, wiping the tears away.
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied unenthusiastically.
Rydan slowly, cautiously, advanced his position near the exiting prisoners. The guard barraged them with insults and commands to move quicker. It appeared they were to use them in the battle somehow.
I watched in eager nervousness as Rydan stealthily maneuvered his way behind the guard, quietly and undetected. I was so anxious and terrified of him being discovered; I thought at any moment I would die of heart failure, and it would all be for naught.
Using the hilt of his sword, Rydan knocked the guard unconscious. I exhaled the breath I had been keeping locked away with one strong release. The prisoners immediately rushed from the hall toward the exit, dropping Cathar on the floor.
I ran to Cathar with tears streaming down my face. I could not contain them. I flung my body across his, my hands placed around his face. I pushed his blond hair away and kissed his forehead tenderly.
“Cathar! Cathar!” He did not respond or open his eyes. I checked for his breath, anxiously holding my own captive in my lungs once again.
To my utter relief, he still breathed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
~Nari~
“I think I understand what you’re saying. It’s all about balance. It’s all about blocking out negative feelings and focusing on the good. On acts of good,” I explained to Ender. He trained me on how to use my elda abilities without turning into a complete emotional psycho.
According to him, I had the potential to be uncontrollably strong. Having both Isil and Tavas blood in my DNA meant I could harness the power from both lands. It also meant the two powers would be at war with each other inside of me—I didn’t quite understand what that part would entail, but I was determined to not let it consume me like it had been. I really didn’t like turning into a mental person.
Because so far, the power had bent my emotions completely out of whack. I didn’t understand how to restrain the negative feelings that accompanied the force I had inside my blood. Ender, I mean–my father–was teaching me how to control myself.
“Why did I feel like a Tavas’Elda to everyone, then? I could feel that Mycah and other Isil’Elda were my enemies—and Tavas’Elda felt like family. And same with them—they knew I was a Wood Elf.” Would I ever be able to understand how all this elf stuff worked?
“Your royal Tavas’Elda blood is what is most strong. In turn, it is what will come easiest to you. Your royal heritage calls for you, and it suffocates the Isil’Elda blood you have running dormant in your veins. It appears, from what you have shared with me, that it is commanding you to take a stand against the Isil’Elda. Your Tavas blood burns for you to eliminate the enemy. You must fight it. It will be difficult to harness both, but it can be done with much practice. I am certain of it,” Ender explained proudly. I was so thankful for him in that moment. I never would have gotten answers without him. As difficult as the information he shared with me was, I needed to hear it.
“Nari!” a voice I’d recognize even in my last gulps of breath called down the hall, interrupting my thoughts.
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