《Reverie of Heroes (Working Title)》


 Prologue - The Corruptor

    Damian made his way through the forest, making an irritating amount of noise as he left a visible trail through the thick underbrush. He cursed softly as yet another branch snapped under his boot.  So much for being quiet. Everything he had learned about stealth seemed to not apply here.  The thick brush at his feet seemed intent to trip him at every opportunity, and every wayward branch had placed itself directly at his feet, snapping eagerly.


    As he walked, his mind wandered, transporting him back to the dusty training yard in Brightridge. He could almost feel the grit under his boots, the sharp commands of his mentors punctuating the air just as his muscles screamed for relief. With each memory, his hand twitched, reflexively forming a grip on the sword that was at his hip. He remembered nights spent by candlelight, his fingers tracing routes on faded maps until they curled stiff and his eyes stung with fatigue. Those grueling days and endless nights weren''t just routine¡ªthey were his life, each moment a step leading towards the day he would be tested.


    Focus, Damian reprimanded himself.  Master Broal said that this would be more difficult in the field.  Stop getting distracted.  Blinking the memories away and releasing his sword, his eyes lowered as he tried to pierce the underbrush beneath him - in vain.


    Recalling the pre-planned route he had memorized on the large map back at Brightridge, he glanced at his guidebrace for what felt like the hundredth time since he set off a few hours previous, and confirmed that he was still heading East towards his mission.


    As he ventured deeper, the canopy above thickened, casting a deepening shadow over the forest floor. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground with moving patterns of shade and light. The once bright green and golden sunlight hues grew muted, swallowed by the growing darkness.  The branches closed together like grasping fingers seeking to choke out any rays that managed to wriggle their way through.  The air grew cool and damp, laden with the scent of mold and decay.


    Before darkness had a chance to swallow all of the light, he stopped for a moment to open his beltpouch. Pulling his Lumi free, he took a moment to admire the small, ornate device, before turning the dial on its side.  Light immediately began to illuminate the surrounding area, and Damian tied the Lumi to his belt, and then cautiously pressed onward.


    The Overgrowth was aptly named, and it seemed to digest him more and more with every step.  With the sunlight having no purchase here, the shifting shadows cast from the light at his hip began to tease his imagination, causing his senses to prickle with unease as he journeyed.


    Shadows danced at the corner of his vision, shifting with each step that he took.  Was it merely the play of light and shadow?  Or did something darker lurk amongst the trees?  With each step that took him deeper, a primal urge that screamed at him to flee began to fill his senses.  Wiping sweat from his brow he forced himself to press onward.


    Realizing that he had unconsciously gripped the hilt of the sword at his hip, he forced himself to let it go.  Blinking intentionally he imagined himself becoming a full fledged scout, but the shadows surrounding him made him feel foolish for coming here.


    Stopping, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, calming himself.  It was only his imagination.  If he panicked and began tearing through the trees it wouldn¡¯t do him any good, except in getting himself lost.


    It was at this moment of calming however, that Damian noticed it. The silence.  A chill ran down his spine as he realized no birds sang, no insects chirped.  It was almost as if this thriving, dense, lush forest was inexplicably dead.  Or perhaps holding its breath in anticipation.


    Shuddering he opened his eyes once more, feeling less panicked but more uneasy, and forced his unwilling feet to continue walking.


    The sooner you complete your mission, the sooner you can return to Brightridge. He told himself.  This is how it was supposed to be. The other Scouts hadn¡¯t turned back in fear. They had overcome it, and had become fully fledged Scouts.


    Right foot. Left. One foot. Then the other.


    Keeping on like this for what felt like an eternity, he nearly lost track of time, focusing on each step.  All that mattered was that he headed due East, and that he would eventually arrive at his destination.


    It was to his surprise then, that the trees suddenly ended, and Damian stumbled to a stop.  A hill rose before him, topped by a great, spiked fortress - Demonfort. Smiling in relief, he knew that he was almost to his goal that it was almost time to return home. His smile quickly turned downwards however, as he realized that the clearing was not illuminated by the afternoon sun, as he had anticipated.  Instead, a clear night sky hung overhead.  He fell to his knees, mouth agape.


    Stunned, he racked his mind.  He shouldn¡¯t have arrived at night.  His stomach still felt relatively full from the breakfast he¡¯d eaten a few hours previous.  By all rights he should be completing his mission and turning back before needing to even stop for lunch.  And yet despite his instincts yelling at him that this couldn¡¯t be, the moon and stars silently mocked him from above.


    Damian''s stomach churned with unease, a cold knot of fear tightening in his chest. Despite the queasiness threatening to overwhelm him, he clenched his jaw and pushed himself upright, his muscles protesting every movement. The damp earth beneath him felt unsteady, as if it might give way beneath his weight at any moment.


    It¡¯s okay, he assured himself, trying to calm his ever-weakening resolve. The other scouts had strange things happen to them too.  As he thought this, the fabric of his mind threatened to tear, his very sanity fraying with every minute spent here.  The air hummed with an otherworldly energy, prickling at the skin and sending shivers down his spine. Every sound felt magnified, every shadow elongated into grotesque fictions.  But this was no mere trick.  How had he lost several hours despite heading to this place directly with little to no delay?


    He shivered. This place was cursed, he was sure of it. It was no wonder that the Old Sentries had gone mad.


    Climbing the hill, his breaths quickly became heavy as he ascended the steep incline, but he did not slow. A dreadful sense of urgency drove him onward despite his growing fatigue.  For several minutes the climb continued, as he reminded himself over and over that his mission was almost done.


    Before long he reached the top, and he found himself finally looking up at the walls of Demonfort, the dreaded fortress of old. Having been abandoned for the last century, the fortress stood untouched by time. The imposing stone walls stood two dozen meters tall, crowned by spiked towers far above, and the iron gate before him stood agape like an enormous maw that was ready to swallow him whole.


    Looking back to the west he swore could almost make out Brightridge far off in the distance, but the sight eluded him. Turning back to the gaping maw, and trying to ignore the dread that blanketed him, Damian stepped through the opening, half expecting the gate to close down on him as he passed through. Glancing around the courtyard he found it empty, and then set off quickly towards the black gate on the far side. His feet tread over the muddy grass that grasped at his boots like a beggar asking for coin, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he made it. As he looked up at the black, metal door before him his breath caught in his throat.


    The door loomed ominously before him, its metallic surface adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to writhe and twist in the light of his Lumi. Grotesque figures danced across the wood, their twisted forms contorted in agony or frozen in eternal torment, almost as if to warn him not to enter here. The air around the door grow colder, and Damian couldn''t shake the feeling that the very essence of evil emanated from the dark corridors behind this door.  Reaching forward with trembling fingers he gingerly touched the metal frame, but recoiled when it felt as cold as ice.


    Come on, Damian.  He urged himself.  If Varin can do this, so can you. He had to go through this too.  Stop being such a coward. Reaching once more, he palmed the door with both hands and, ignoring the cold that the door emanated, pushed with all his might.


    The door opened effortlessly and he stumbled inside, yelping in surprise, his voice echoing in the massive entry hall. Looking back at the door he swallowed, his eyes wide as he stared at the doorway. A metal door that size shouldn¡¯t have opened as easily. Breathing shakily, he turned back towards the massive hall.


    Oppressive darkness swallowed his light that now seemed to shine weakly in this place. Unhooking the Lumi from his belt, he held it before him, trying to penetrate further into the blackness. But as he walked, his eyes failed to see anything more than several meters ahead of him. Straining his ears, his boots echoing each time he took a step, he realized that the hall here was massive.


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    Swallowing the lump in his throat and taking a deep breath as panic began to rise once more as the overwhelming and unnatural nature of this place nearly caused him to flee, he assured himself once more that this is how things were supposed to be.  If he left now he wouldn¡¯t be able to face the Scouts again.  Clenching his jaw, he drew his sword and continued forward. He was almost there.


    It felt like an eternity but he finally made it to the back of the hall, and he jumped when he nearly ran into a gnarled statue of a snarling demon. Glancing back he looked for the open door that he¡¯d entered in through and swallowed, licking his lips as he saw that the darkness drowned out any light from the moon outside.


    Gripping his sword even tighter he turned back to the statue and recalled the path the Sergeant Broal had drilled into his mind. Turning right, he slowly felt his way to the back corner of the hall, and found the passageway leading away from the entry hall.  Collecting himself, he breathed deeply before pressing deeper into the fortress.


    If the great entry hall had felt massive, the hallways here pressed in on him, causing his breathing to quicken as if the air were being squeezed from him. His breath echoed as much as his boots did on the jagged stone walls that were occasionally interrupted by surprisingly pristine tapestries. He avoided looking at any that he passed, as one that he did stop by depicted horrifying acts of violence. Even as he passed them, they seemed to morph and warp as his Lumi¡¯s light brushed them, and he shivered as the shadows mocked his progress with an elusive dance.


    He followed Master Broal¡¯s directions to the letter, but nearly lost his way several times as he navigated the labyrinthine corridors. Luckily some of the previous Scouts had left chalk arrows on the ground and walls that marked the correct way. He was grateful for the help, but the markings mostly reminded him of his isolation.


    Shivering he pushed feelings of being alone aside and pushed on with grim determination. Moving at a snail¡¯s pace, he pressed on, fear hugging him from all sides.  The darkness even closed more around him, until he could see only a few feet in front of him. This was how the other scouts had said it would be: the darkness itself tried to stop you.


    Just as he was toying with the idea of turning back once more, a door appeared out of the darkness on his right. Damian¡¯s heart leapt into his throat, and he stopped, holding the Lumi above his head. The door stood several meters high and his light failed to reach the top.


    Smooth stone greeted him. Eldritch depictions of various demons etched into the surface of the door glowed with a soft, otherworldly light, and pulsed irregularly. A large iron handle stuck out from the center of the door like a finger that urged him closer. Reaching out with an outstretched hand, he touched the cold stone, shaking at the unnatural smoothness of the door.


    It¡¯s just a door, he told himself.  And yet it was all he could do to not flee. Sliding his sword back into its scabbard, he grasped the handle, he pulled at the massive door, only to stumble once again as the door swung open easily, as if it wanted to welcome him inside. The door barely even groaned under what should have been a large amount of weight. Licking his lips and wiping his left palm on his shirt, he cautiously stepped forward into the waiting maw.


    The room beyond the door felt spacious. The sound of Damian¡¯s breathing and bootfalls became consumed in the massive space above his head, causing him to slouch down, as he suddenly felt very small. Stepping gingerly, he ventured towards the center of the room until he found it.


    A massive pillar several meters around appeared. Black, obsidian stone glinted as he approached. As he rested his hand on the smooth, glassy surface, he squinted in confusion, looking around. He was told that the gate was large - much larger than he would have anticipated.  Fetching a rope from his pack, he tied one end to the pillar of stone before him, and, grasping the other, ventured away from it making sure to keep the rope taut.


    A few long moments passed before he found a second pillar, just as massive as the first. His eyes trailed the pillar upwards as he raised his Lumi to try and get a better view.  It seemed incredibly large. If this was the other side of the Demongate, the keystone of the archway would have to stand more than two or three dozen meters high. An impossibility.


    Head reeling from the realization, he stumbled as he returned to the other side and took several deep breaths to calm himself, clenching shaking hands. As he did so, his neck prickled as dread began to toy with him. Best finish his mission quickly and be out of here.


    Shaking, he fumbled with his pack, pulling out the white Arcane Paint that he was given for this task, and began to search for the sealing runes that were supposed to surround the Demongate. A faint smell of decay began to tickle his nose, threatening to make him sneeze, and he raised an arm to cover his nose, and he pressed forward and his boots clacked on the stone as the sound echoed in the hall.  Once more he reminded himself he was almost done.


    Grabbing the rope he began to search, scanning the floor for the runes. It took several minutes, stumbling around in the dark, before he found the first rune of ten. Kneeling, he uncorked the bottle of paint, and dipped a finger into the glowing liquid. Reaching down to trace the arcane symbols, his hand stopped mere centimeters from the ground.  He frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing. Wasn¡¯t the rune supposed to be glowing?


    The hair suddenly rose up on the back of his neck as he then realized that the stone beneath his feet were subtly fractured, sending webs of lines across the floor like cracked glass. Of all the oddities that had occurred since setting foot in the Demonfort, this is one that he did not expect.


    It was instinct, drilled into him through months of training that drove him to drop, as a whoosh behind him broke the silence.  Dropping the vial and his guiding rope, it shattered as he landed on top of it.  Rolling, he drew his sword in the same motion, wild eyes trying to pierce beyond his bubble of light for his attacker.


    Damian¡¯s mouth quickly became dry as his breaths came out raggedly, panic batting at him like a cat playing with its prey. Mind racing, he backed up to the door to retreat, watching the darkness for his ambusher.  The seals were broken.  The Scouts had to be warned.


    But instead of backing out of an open door, his heart leapt into his throat as he found solid metal blocking his way.  The door had closed without him hearing. Pushing with all his might he shoved against it, but contrary to before it refused to budge. Cursing softly, he spun, putting his back to the door.


    Screaming, he dove to the side as he felt the air shift.  Something massive dropped from above, and slammed into the stone just as he rolled to his feet.  Pointing his sword he blinked, trying once more to pierce the impenetrable darkness, but in vain.


    Thump. The ground reverberated as whatever was there took a step. Thump. Then another. He unconsciously took a panicked step backwards as a bulbous shape, four meter high, began to take shape in the darkness just out of reach of his Lumi.


    ¡°Wh-who are you?¡± Damian croaked, mouth quivering, as he held his sword before him. ¡°N-not another s-step.¡± The thing cocked what had to be its head.


    ¡°Who?¡± A rasping voice answered from the figure in the dark. ¡°I¡­ am born of a thoussssand sinssss.¡± With each word, the young would-be scout cringed back as the voice grated the space between his skull.


    ¡°Who are you,¡± the voice continued ¡°who isss ssso bold to venture here?¡± A clicking sound finished its question, as if insects crept along its vocal folds.


    Almost against his will, Damian felt himself respond, almost as if the words were being drawn from him. ¡°I-I am Damian Sorlin, I have come to this place to reseal the evil here.¡± His answer elicited a rasping laugh from the creature, and he attempted to turn and flee. But his feet stood rooted against his will.


    The creature slurped as it attempted, and failed multiple times, to form more words.  Finally the creature snarled before speaking in its slithering voice.


    ¡°Name?  Damian.  Yesssssss, gooood.¡±  The creature¡¯s mouth clicked as if it were tasting the words.  ¡°Illsssssstraud the Corruptor, is what sssome call me.  But in sssssshort order, you will call me¡­. Massssster.¡±


    The boy¡¯s mouth fell open as the creature leaned downward, finally intruding into the Lumi¡¯s bubble of light. Illstraud¡¯s eyes, protruding from an almost human face, glowed with an inhuman hunger with an unblinking gaze that sent shivers down his spine.  Vicious, thick ichor dripped from an unhinged human jaw that ended in insectoid mandibles, reeking of corruption, a stench that caused him to gag.


    C¡¯mon, move! Damian screamed in his mind. But his legs refused to move. Almost as if they belonged to someone else. Looking the grotesque creature in its eyes, he began to shake uncontrollably.


    ¡°Good.¡± The monster croaked, smiling maliciously as it began to approach once more. ¡°Do not fight.  Give in¡­ to dissssspair.¡±  His eyes fluttered shut as the creature delicately began to lean in towards him.


    NO! This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen! The young man jerked as he struggled against whatever held him there. I won¡¯t let things end like this!


    With incredible effort he twisted and struck with everything he had. Opening his eyes he saw his blade strike Illstraud¡¯s left eye. The eye popped violently as black liquid sprayed everywhere.


    He only had a moment of satisfaction before Damian felt something break, and found himself flying through the air.


    Coming to a stop, he gasped for air. Blood filled his vision.  He reached for his sword, but his arm wouldn¡¯t respond. A ringing filled his ears, as he realized that he was screaming.  His arm.  His arm was gone.


    Pain enveloped his entire being, as panic truly set in.  Illstraud was coming.  He had to run.  He had to¡­.


    A new spike of pain shot into the base of his spine as something stabbed him as he lay there, silencing his scream, as numbness rapidly spread from the point of impact throughout his entire body. His thoughts fuzzed as his vision clouded and he could hear someone speaking.  Or was it hissing?


    What was he doing again?  To Damian¡¯s surprise, he found that he couldn¡¯t remember.

 A Good Life

    In the twilight of afterthought, Finn gaped at what he saw. One moment he had been shearing one of Master Rin¡¯s yaks. The next he was at the top of a mountain looking down into a valley hundreds of meters below him. How did he get here?


    He shivered. The landscape filled his senses as frost began to rapidly stiffen his clothing. Flexing a forearm caused his clothing to shatter, and he closed his eyes as they exploded outwards with an audible CRACK.


    His skin, flesh and bone followed suit, freezing, exploding and ridding themselves from his core until only he was left, and without eyes could now see an infinite expanse of stars that threatened to swallow him. He would have tried to flee if he still had legs.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± The soft voice broke the solitude, piercing through the unsettling serenity that filled his senses. He could feel something probing the void. Something that didn¡¯t belong here. ¡°I know you¡¯re there.¡±


    Fear gripped him as he quieted his thoughts. He did not exist. It¡¯s not as if whatever it was would be able to see him. And yet terror gripped him as something moved, and the stars shifted as he felt something look at him.


    ¡°There you are.¡±


    Finn felt a jolt as he found himself whole again, standing in a muddy field in the dead of night. His mind swam and fear permeated his senses, and he looked around wildly with his newly formed eyes, trying to pierce the darkness. He flexed a hand, rubbing his fingers together, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.


    A scream erupted from his left, and he spun. It was her: the blonde Elf girl. She was running right towards him, kicking up mud as she did so.


    ¡°Run!¡± The elf woman screamed at him. ¡°They¡¯re coming for you!¡±


    Panic flooded Finn¡¯s mind as he saw the terror in her eyes. Turning to look behind him, he saw monstrous shapes moving in the darkness, snarling as they advanced. Turning back to the woman, he jumped as he realized she had vanished. There was nothing left to do but run.


    Stumbling in the dim light, his legs felt like lead, each step a monumental effort. He yelled, forcing himself forward through the thick, oppressive air, as the mud clawed at his boots as if to prevent him from fleeing. Why can¡¯t I run?


    The creatures were close, their hot breath prickling the back of his neck, filling his nostrils with the stench of decay.


    Tripping on an exposed root, Finn landed face first in the damp earth. He choked as it tried to force its way down his throat. Spitting mud, he forced himself upright and found himself face to face with the same pointy-eared woman.


    She grabbed Finn¡¯s face with an iron grip. Pulling herself closer as tears of blood began to run down her face, she screamed.


    ¡°You have to help me!¡±


    ~


    Finn jerked awake, his heart pounding as the dream fled. Another one of those horrible dreams. One of many, lately, with each getting worse. Blinking against the sunlight, he realized he was still in the field near his home. Raising his hand to shade his face from the sun, Finn focused his eyes on the familiar patch of milky white skin that patterned itself on the back of his hand, contrasting his natural skin tone that formed a shape that he¡¯d always thought had resembled a dueling swordsman.


    His horse, Dusk, snorted nearby. Finn rotated his head and looked at the mare. She was eyeing him as if to make sure he was okay. Once satisfied that nothing was amiss, she shook her head and returned to her grazing.


    Lowering his hand, Finn¡¯s gaze turned to the sky, and the clouds that lazily drifted by. Who was that girl? She had been in most of his dreams lately. Dreams which had been becoming increasingly more strange, dark and disturbing. Shivering, he closed his eyes, trying to push the memory of his most recent dream out of his mind.


    Minutes passed until he felt calmness begin to return to his mind, and soon all that remained of the nightmare was a nagging sense of dread.


    ¡°Hey there lazy! Slacking off on the day of the festival?¡± an unpleasant yet familiar voice called out, snapping him out of his trance.


    Groaning, Finn forced himself to stand, breathing deep to chase away the dizziness that made his head swim from standing too quickly. Vail was approaching quickly, and Finn balled his fists as he watched the younger yet larger boy saunter over. Did he have to do this on the day of the Spring Festival of all days?


    ¡°Go away, Vail!¡± Finn growled softly, and Dusk whinnied appreciatively. ¡°You don¡¯t want a black eye for the festival, do you?¡±


    ¡°Mum says you¡¯re an elf, but you¡¯re so short you¡¯ve gotta be a dwarf!¡± The chubby boy smiled mischievously as he stopped just a few feet away. Finn felt his cheeks flush at the insult, but took a couple of deep breaths before calmly responding.


    ¡°Master Rin gave me the day off for my birthday,¡± Finn explained calmly, but continued to stare down Vail. ¡°I already did most of my morning chores and he practically had to chase me off with a broom.¡±


    Vail snorted indignantly as he took a half step towards him. ¡°I was given extra duties at the farm thanks to you. And when I asked where you were, he told me you were slacking off!¡± He balled his fists as he yelled, and Finn instinctively took a step backwards. The bully spat to the side, and his eyebrows furrowed as he took another half step closer.


    He could see the attack coming from a mile away, as Vail wound up his swing. He ducked as Vail aimed at his face, heart leaping into his throat, and quickly jabbed his fist into the soft area just beneath his ribs.


    ¡°Ooof!¡± The bully stumbled backwards, the air driven from his lungs. His face a mix of pain and anger, Vail moved forward more cautiously a second time, his fists held up in a defensive position.


    ¡°Back off!¡± Finn yelled. He shifted lightly from one foot to another as he desperately stayed out of reach of the other boy¡¯s fists, knowing what would happen if a hit landed.


    Growling in response, Vail darted forward suddenly, jabbing multiple times as he advanced. Finn danced backwards, his breath catching as Vail¡¯s punches missed him by mere centimeters. The attack continued for several drawn out moments as Finn continued his desperate dance, and before long both boys were breathing heavily.


    ¡°Why. Won¡¯t. You. Stay. Still!¡± The bully screamed, swinging each time he yelled each word. Finn didn¡¯t answer, instead focusing on staying out of reach, eyes bulging as a couple of the swings brushed clothing. Vail continued to chase Finn around the grassy field until he fell to his knees, gulping air as sweat poured down his chubby cheeks. Breathing heavily himself, Finn stopped a few meters away and grinned widely.


    ¡°Maybe lose a few pounds and next time you¡¯ll be able to catch me,¡± Finn snorted, laughing at the mess before him. It was a masquerade, however. It was rare to get out of a scrap with Vail unscathed.


    Vail glared at Finn, his face twisted with rage. For a moment, Finn thought he might charge again, but the larger boy seemed to think better of it. Instead, he spat at the ground near Finn''s feet, his eyes narrowing dangerously.


    ¡°Yer nothing but an elf,¡± Vail reasoned, raising a sleeve to wipe sweat from his face. ¡°Of course you¡¯re able to dodge me. Without those ears of yours, you¡¯d be nothing.¡± Finn frowned, surprised at how much the words hurt.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never really belong here, runt,¡± he continued. ¡°Just watch. One day, we¡¯ll all put you on display as our very own elf-boy. Just you watch.¡±


    With a final, menacing look, Vail turned and stomped away, his heavy footsteps leaving deep impressions in the soft ground. Finn watched him go, his heart still pounding from Vail¡¯s attack. He usually didn¡¯t escape without a scratch, and he knew Vail wouldn¡¯t forget it.


    As the younger boy crested the hill, Dusk meandered over and nuzzled Finn¡¯s shoulder, as if to check on him. Finn patted the horse¡¯s neck reassuringly, grateful for the silent companionship.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Dusk,¡± he murmured. ¡°I can handle him.¡± Gathering Dusk¡¯s reins, he led her up the hill back towards the village, purposely walking slowly to make sure to keep a good distance between them and Vail. Even so, it didn¡¯t take long to reach the Town Square.


    Streamers had been strung from rooftop to rooftop above the central well, as people milled about busily beneath them. Finn smiled widely to himself as he saw the multicolored paper move lazily in the breeze, and began to feel the tension from his bout from earlier start to melt away.


    ¡°¡®Ello, Finn!¡± Finn glanced to his left as Brannor, the jovial baker, called out, energetically waving a loaf of bread at him. Brannor¡¯s grin was as warm as the bread he baked each morning, and the sight of it made Finn smile despite himself.


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    ¡°Take this! You deserve it, lad!¡± The baker nearly shoved the loaf down Finn¡¯s shirt in his enthusiasm, and Finn shook his head emphatically.


    ¡°Not today, Brannor!¡± Finn replied, grinning sheepishly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m in a rush.¡± As he picked up his pace, more villagers noticed him, their greetings echoing through the bustling market square, and it didn¡¯t take long for him to become surrounded by enthusiastic villagers. A hand draped over his shoulders, and he felt himself get squeezed tight. Swinging his head he watched Jayce Salentin grinning as he spoke to someone Finn didn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°See? I told you we had our very own elf boy here! See his ears?¡± Finn cringed as Jayce, the Baker¡¯s apprentice, tapped the tip of one of his ears while the one-eyed stranger frowned appreciatively, nodding. His cheeks flushed furiously as he ducked under the embrace, and slipped free. He dragged Dusk behind him as he made a dash towards the inn, only for another figure, nearly 2 feet taller than him, blocked his path. Mayor Alder grinned widely as he stared down at Finn, as if he was staring down prey.


    ¡°My, my, if it isn¡¯t our very own birthday elf!¡± The Mayor¡¯s obnoxiously charismatic voice rang out as Finn tried to dodge around the large man, drawing more unwanted attention towards him, as more eyes were drawn towards him. Was he purposely moving to stop him? To draw attention to him? Finn stopped, craning his neck to look up at the man as he planted his fists on his hips, frustrated.


    ¡°How old are you turning now? 16, right? Don¡¯t worry, your growth spurt will come along sooner or later.¡± The mayor laughed heartily at that, and several of the townsfolk joined in as they surrounded him. By the stars, they were giving Dusk more clearance.


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you let me through, Mayor,¡± Finn said as politely as he could, ignoring the question entirely. ¡°I have business at the Inn.¡±


    ¡°Come now, you wouldn¡¯t want to deprive people of a chance to say happy birthday now, would you?¡± the Mayor asked, spreading his arms wide, as if this were some sort of spectacle that the whole town should witness.


    As if that were some sort of sign, the folk around him began to close in, clapping him on his back, as if they were almost eager to just touch him. He felt a pang of disgust at the show of affection. He was just a normal boy and had done nothing to warrant such popularity. Their kindness went beyond its usual scope; his elven heritage had always drawn such unwanted attention.


    His pleas to let him through were drowned in the choruses of ¡®Happy Birthdays¡¯ and ¡®nice to see you¡¯s¡¯, and Finn felt his chest tighten. It usually wasn¡¯t this bad. Was it really because he was turning 16 today? The calls surrounded him, each voice friendly and adding to the attention that swelled around him. He shrugged off their enthusiasm, and he tried unsuccessfully to force his way through the crowd with a stiff smile. He felt as if he were a single flame drawing in dozens of moths towards him; a flame that would soon be smothered.


    ¡°Now there, that¡¯s enough!¡± A well muscled and bearded figure, clothed in Constable Blue, suddenly appeared beside Finn, and he sighed in relief. Constable Mord shoved townsfolk back with a grim expression. ¡°Back off, or I¡¯ll have the lot of you spend the night in the stocks!¡± The tightness in Finn¡¯s chest seemed to dissipate with the crowd, and he morosely looked up at the Constable.


    ¡°Thank you, Mord, I owe you one,¡± Finn breathed, feeling the blood return to his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, boy,¡± Constable Mord replied, shooting an angry look at a lingering passerby who still stared at Finn with an almost hungry expression. ¡°You don¡¯t owe me anything. All the same, let me walk you the rest of the way.¡±


    Finn nodded silently, following Mord towards the inn with Dusk in tow. The horse walked closely, nudging him as if it sensed his distress, and he rubbed the horse¡¯s nose in response.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t even bothered, were you?¡± Finn whispered, and the horse whinnied quietly in response.


    The rest of the journey to the inn was a short walk to the other side of the town square, Mord¡¯s presence driving off anyone who might dare to venture too close. He smiled as he finally approached the Frosted Flower Inn. The inn stood proudly, its weathered fa?ade speaking of the many seasons it had witnessed. Its weathered wooden sign, recently repainted by Isabella the Innkeeper¡¯s wife, swayed gently above the door. Tying Dusk to the hitching post, Finn patted the horse¡¯s neck and turned once more towards the Constable.


    ¡°Thank you again,¡± Finn said, voice cracking. ¡°I felt like I was going to suffocate.¡±


    The burly man nodded curtly as he stroked his lengthy beard, before turning back towards the town center. Crossing his arms he stood there like a statue, now watching the festivities with a stoic expression. Finn couldn¡¯t help but smile as he watched Mord. The man was never much for words.


    Turning around once more, he walked up the steps towards the inn, and without looking back, he walked into the inn, shutting the front door behind him.


    The familiar scent of dried herbs and seasoned meats mixed with the aroma of the inn¡¯s old timber greeted him. The nearly empty common room was a relieving sight, with the town¡¯s inhabitants staying busy with the festival preparations, although Finn knew it would be bursting at the seams later. He swallowed, calming his nerves from the commotion outside, but smiled as he spotted her. Marian sat in the corner, her copper hair reflecting light from a nearby lantern, not noticing him standing there as she sat enraptured by her book. Quietly, Finn moved towards her until he stood a few feet from her.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he called out softly, not wanting to startle her. Looking up, her emerald eyes lit up as they met his, and she smiled warmly. As she did so, Finn felt his heart lift a bit, as it always did when he saw her.


    ¡°There you are,¡± she said, placing her bookmark to keep her spot, as she patted the seat next to her. ¡°I was beginning to think that you¡¯d been swept away by everyone.¡±


    ¡°Almost. Brannor nearly stuffed a loaf of bread down my throat,¡± Finn smiled, snorting as he relived the recent memory. ¡°Can you imagine? Suffocating on the bread of an overly enthusiastic baker?¡± He settled into the seat beside her, clasping his hands together as he rested his arms on the table.


    ¡°That would certainly make a funny story, although he does make the best bread,¡± Marian chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind, I ordered us some cider.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. That sounds amazing right now, especially after making my way through that mess,¡± he said, gesturing in the direction of the town center.


    Marian pursed her lips, brow furrowing as she gazed at him. ¡°More of your¡­ fans I suppose?¡± she asked, resting a hand on Finn¡¯s forearm, trembling slightly as she comforted him.


    Nodding, he lowered his gaze, the anxiety from before returning briefly, and nearly pulled his arm away from Marian as he suddenly felt claustrophobic. He sighed, trying to banish the feeling. His eyes settled on her book, and he felt his nerves calm as he focused on the vibrant red of the book cover, and


    ¡°New book?¡± He asked, once again looking into Marian¡¯s eyes, smirking.


    Nodding excitedly, she began to explain the book¡¯s story. He listened as best as he could as Marian told him about it, but found his mind wandering back to Rin¡¯s farm. She told a story of a hero who overcame impossible odds and saved a princess, or something? As much as he tried to appear interested as she talked, he yawned. He¡¯d never taken interest in such stories. He was a farmer. His place was here, and this is where he would always stay. Suddenly, Marian stopped her story, and Finn cocked an eyebrow as she shook her head slightly, frowning.


    ¡°And?¡± Finn asked, prompting her to continue her story. ¡°What happened? Did they escape?¡± Marian nodded in response, and then sighed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Finn,¡± she said, smiling warmly. ¡°I kept ranting and¡­ I know you don¡¯t like these kinds of stories.¡±


    Finn leaned forward, smiling. ¡°Thank you for being considerate, but I was enjoying listening to you talk.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± a voice boomed from the corner, and Finn jumped in his seat, feeling Marian do the same. A cloaked figure emerged from the corner, moving deliberately towards them. Pulling down his hood, he revealed a handsome face, adorned by short hair and a well-trimmed beard.


    ¡°You were clearly falling asleep!¡± the figure spoke, dictating each word precisely as if he were afraid that he would be misunderstood. ¡°Indeed, t¡¯would be a shame, considering the masterful retelling of ¡®The Sung Hero¡¯ that young Marian here was recounting.¡±


    The two friends stared up at the man, mouths agape. Finn¡¯s mouth moved as if to form words, but nothing emerged.


    ¡°Now, now, there¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of! Stage fright comes to us all, one way or another!¡± The man bowed deeply as if he had just given the world¡¯s greatest performance, before straightening once more. ¡°My name, or at least the one I¡¯ll give you, is Jacque! Performer of music, and teller of tales! At your service.¡±


    ¡°A lorewalker!¡± Marian blurted, and Finn realized that it was true. Although he had expected colorful clothing, this man¡¯s mannerisms clearly marked him as one, and he felt a spike of excitement.


    ¡°How long will you be here? Is there any news about, well, anything? And do you know ¡®down by the well¡¯?¡± The questions were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think, and he blushed, feeling like a child at the outburst. Jacque burst into laughter, the sound filling the room, and Finn couldn¡¯t help but smile, albeit sheepishly.


    ¡°Now now, my young friend! All in good time!¡± Jacque dictated. ¡°My presence here is widely unnoticed - I had hoped to surprise the whole village. Yet I assure you, that before long I will regale your entire village with tales and song upon the setting of the sun.¡±


    Finn¡¯s eyes widened even further at the prospect. Music was always nice to listen to, but everyone knew that music was used to create magic. There would be quite the show tonight.


    The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open and Isabella, short and sturdy, stalked towards the group bearing three steaming mugs on a tray, gray dress waving behind her as she walked.


    ¡°I trust that yer not thrustin¡¯ yer bafflin¡¯ ways upon these young un¡¯s too much, master bard,¡± the woman¡¯s Dwarven accented voice rapidly berated Jacque, contrasting the wide smile upon her face. She set the tray down, sliding a mug towards Finn and Marian, before handing Jacque his own mug. ¡°Don¡¯t be causin¡¯ too much trouble now, or oi¡¯ll have have you thrown out on yer rear.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it, my dear lady!¡± Jacque promised, mockingly cowering back as if afraid, before drinking deeply.


    ¡°Good,¡± Isabella responded, scooping up the tray. ¡°And as long as you bring the whole village in tonigh¡¯ like ye promised, there¡¯ll be more where that came from, on the house,¡± she finished, nodding at Jacque¡¯s mug, before spinning and stalking back towards the kitchen. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid to give a holler if ye be needin¡¯ sumthin¡¯.¡± Jacque watched her leave, and nodded appreciatively, before turning his attention back on Finn and Marian.


    ¡°Are all the women in this village as fierce as she is?¡± he asked, sounding astonished. ¡°I¡¯m worried that if one of them sets their sights on me, they¡¯ll never let me go.¡± He sipped once more from his cup, widening his eyes exaggeratedly.


    ¡°That¡­ would be an accurate description,¡± Finn said, chuckling. A memory bubbled to the surface of his mind of his own mother bludgeoning an ill Master Rin on the head with a broomstick, when he got out of bed to tend to the farm before he was well. He glanced at Marian, who was glaring teasingly at him.


    ¡°Well, for most of them,¡± he hastily added, prompting another hearty bout of laughter from Jacque.


    ¡°Thanks for the laugh, m¡¯boy,¡± Jacque said, laughter fading. ¡°It has been a pleasure to speak with you. And to you,¡± he said, turning to Marian. ¡°Finn is lucky to have you as a friend. I must retreat for now. Until this evening!¡±


    Finn watched entranced, as Jacque suddenly spun and seemed to flow up the stairs at the back of the room, disappearing. Finn jumped as Marian began to laugh, breaking him from his brief trance, before he too began to laugh. Tonight would be a night to remember.