Shadows Of Desire

Twenty years earlier...

“Padair, the vampire army approaches.”

“We have wards to keep them out, Artur. Do not fear. Our village is protected.”

Artur sighed, fidgeting nervously where he stood just inside the doorway of the cottage that Padair shared with his family. “They ride with witches and necromancers. Padair, we can not hold them back, they will breach our boarders.”

Padair sat down at the table where only last night his family had sat to enjoy a peaceful meal together. Drumming his fingers on the hard surface, he considered the position that he was in. “The Gods...” He began to speak but Artur cut him off.

“The Gods have turned away from us, Padair!” He shouted at the man. “The Fae and the elves will not come to our defense and our warriors are outnumbered. The only recourse we have now is to flee.”

“And abandon our village?” Padair narrowed his eyes as he slammed his fist down on the table. “I will never surrender to those monsters and I will not run!”

“We can not fight them. Please, Padair, for the sake of our people, let us retreat into the forest. We can disappear before they break through the warding. Our first priority is to the protection of our people.”

“No.” Padair hissed between clenched teeth. “I will not abandon this village, our home. I will not allow them to drive us out! I will not!”

Artur sighed, turning away from Padair. “Then you sentenced us all to death.” He said, sadly, as he left the cottage, shoulders slumped and all hope lost.

Ellarian met Artur outside the cottage where she had been waiting. “What say my father?” She asked, the look on her face hopeful.

“He wants to stay and fight.” He said, his heart growing heavy with concern for his people. He knew that once the vampires broke through their warding spells it would all be over. They had no hope of winning a fight against them. The vampire’s numbers were just too great.

The grave look on Ellarian’s face told Artur that she understood the severity of the situation they were in. Their people would be slaughtered or enslaved. There was no way to avoid it now. “What of the Fae or the elves?” Ellarian asked. “Will they come to our aide?”

Artur shook his head. “They’ve abandoned us as surly as your father had abandoned them. And worse, I fear that your father’s refusal to join with the Fae army has angered the Gods. Without their protection, we are naked.”

“What can we do?” Ellarian was on the verge of tears. She could not allow her people to suffer and perish because of her father’s pride and arrogance. When the Fae King had sent his messenger to Pickaway village seeking help from the Shee, Chief Padair had refused. He believed that their village was far enough from the fighting and so well secluded that the vampire army would never come after them as long as they pose no threat to King Desmond. He wanted to keep his people out of the fighting and refused to take a side. Now, his cowardice would be their downfall.

“We pray.” Artur told her. “That is all we can do at this point. The vampire army comes, and we can not stop them.”

***

The devastation was too much for Ellarian to bear. All around she saw her tribe, her kinsmen, falling beneath the blade of the vampire army. Women and children had been gathered and put into caged carts. Warriors fought, both men and women, but one by one they were cut down. Even their magic was no match for the magic of the witches and necromancers that fought for the vampire King. Ellarian knew that her people were doomed.

Her father had barricaded himself in his cottage, too overcome with guilt and fear to come out and fight along side his people. Disgusted with her father’s cowardice, Ellarian took up a sword herself and fought as hard as she could, though she knew she could not defeat this enemy, she would at least go down fighting.

“Padair is dead!” Someone called out from amidst the chaos. “The chief is dead!” Ellarian’s heart sank but she couldn’t allow herself time to mourn. The vampires had indeed broken into Padair’s cottage and Ellarian saw his corpse being drug from within and laid out in the center of the village for all to see. With him was his wife, Ellarian’s step mother, and his three youngest children, all dead. Ellarian’s entire family had been killed.

Standing in the center of the fray, Ellarian held her bloodied sword at her side and watched. She watched with a heavy heart as her village was being destroyed.

“My Lady.” Asgall, the captain of the guard was at her side. “My Lady, we’ve lost this fight.” He panted, out of breath and drenched in blood. “Let me take you someplace safe. It’s time for us to make a retreat.”

“No.” Ellarian said somberly, tears spilling down her pale cheeks. “I will not flee and abandon my people.”

“But, My Lady...”

Ellarian smiled at Asgall though her expression was far from happy. She looked forlorn, and defeated. All color drained from her face as she placed a hand on Asgall’s shoulder. “You have fought well, Asgall, and have valiantly defended our tribe. The Gods are smiling down on you this day but, I can not allow this fight to continue.”

“What do you propose to do?” Asgall asked her.

“I will go to the vampire King and attempt to persuade him to leave our village in peace. I can offer him gold and magic. Whatever he wants, just so he stops this senseless killing.”

“Do you tink he will agree?” Asgall looked at Ellarian skeptically. He knew that her heart was in the right place but he did not think the vampire King would give up so easily.

“I do not know.” Ellarian said, honestly. “But I have to try. For my people’s sake if nothing else, I have to try.”

***

Ellarian gave herself over to a guard. Dropping her sword she put her hands up in surrender and requested an audience with King Desmond of Basmorte. The guard scoffed at her, circling her like a vulture when Asgall stepped up to her side, glaring menacingly at the Guard.

“This is the daughter of our tribal chief and she seeks an audience with the King.” He growled.

Again, the guard laughed. “The dead chief you mean.”

“That does not negate the fact that she is his daughter and now, due to his death, the current chief of our tribe.”

The guard disregarded Ellarian as he looked Asgall up and down, assessing the man’s strength. “Does she wish to discuss your surrender?” The guard asked.

Ellarian frowned. “What I chose to discuss with the King is between him and I, and no concern of yours.”

The guard straightened his shoulders and frowned as he looked down his nose at Ellarian. He then turned his attention back to Asgall. “Control your wench.” He spat, “Or I’ll control her for you.”

“You will do no such thing!” Ellarian shrieked in shock and disgust. “And you will address me, not him.” She tilted her head in Asgall’s direction. “I know that your King does not view women as equals but, in our village it is not so and I am in charge here.”

“Wrong.” The guard sneered at her, the rage burning in his eyes. “King Desmond is in charge and all that matters is his word. I do not take orders from head strong bitches that do not their place!” The guard swung his arm before anyone had even realized what was happening and struck Ellarian hard across the face. She was immediately thrown to the ground, her lip bloodied and bruised.

Asgall swung into action then and jumped in front of the guard, sword in hand as he drove the blade through the guards chest. Blood spurted from the wound and the guard stumbled back, looking down at the sword sticking out of his chest in disbelief. He tried to speak but his cries were cut off as Asgall removed the sword and, in one swift motion, severed the vampire’s head.

Asgall extended his hand and helped Ellarian to her feet. “Come, my Lady. Let us go and see this King now.”

***

Getting to King Desmond was easier than either of them had thought. His royal guard had set up a tent just outside the village’s borders. Ellarian and Asgall made their way towards the tent with Asgall leading the way. All around them was fighting, screaming, people laying on the ground, wounded and dying. Ellarian couldn’t allow herself to be distracted though. Stopping to help one injured person could mean the death of ten or twenty more.

Already their numbers were dwindling. Young mother’s escaped with their children to the forest to hide while every able bodied person stayed behind to fight. Not just guards or warriors. Farmers, teachers, fishers and others picked up whatever weapon they could find to defend their village. Many lives had been lost. People Ellarian knew, people she cared about, people she loved. She couldn’t think about that now though. She had to stay on task. She had to put an end to this fighting.

As they reached the tent two guards stepped up to greet them. Neither were friendly or seemed overly pleased to see the two approach. Ellarian had expected as much. She didn’t expect that they would just invite her in for tea. The two guards had their hands on the hilt of their swords, anticipating trouble. Ellarian held up her hands to show that she was unarmed and no threat to them or their King.

“State your purpose here.” One of the guards barked at Ellarian and Asgall. The guard was tall and broad shouldered and Ellarian could see the muscular outline of his arms under his chain mail. The other guard was smaller. Shorter and thinner but muscular as well. These men were made for fighting and killing. It was probably all they lived for. Training and fighting, readying themselves for the day when they too would go into battle. Well, that day was here and the two guards looked as though they thrived amongst the blood shed and death. As far as Ellarian was concerned, they were animals and nothing more.

“I am Lady Ellarian of the Shee. Daughter of the chieftain and I come now in his name to speak with King Desmond. Will you let us pass?”

The first guard looked her over carefully, then he looked to Asgall and frowned. Asgall stood beside Ellarian, his sword in his hand, ready to defend her if need be. The first guard nodded to the second and the second disappeared inside the tent. A moment later he returned. Stepping to the side and holding the door flap open, he announced, “The King will see you now. Leave your weapons here.”

Asgall opened his mouth to protest but Ellarian put up her hand to silence him. “Thank you.” She said to the guard. “My companion will leave his sword with you. We have no other weapons.”

Asgall frowned but did as Ellarian said and handed over his sword, though begrudgingly. He didn’t feel right about going before the vampire King without some protection but he had to trust that Ellarian knew what she was doing. Once they were unarmed, the guard allowed them to enter the King’s tent. Ellarian had expected the inside of the tent to be befitting of a King but what she saw when she went inside was more than she could have ever imagined.

The tent was more extravagant than any home in the entire village. The tent itself was crimson red with black tassels and gold embroidered designs throughout. It was beautiful, bright, and very regal though the outside was nothing compared to what lay within. An ornate rug covered the ground. That was the first thing that Ellarian noticed when she walked in. It seemed strange to her, to have something so beautiful covering the place where one walked. The servants must spend all of their time scrubbing the rug clean of mud and dirt, especially since none of the guards of the King took their boots off when entering.

The second thing that caught her eye was the amount of furnishings that that King traveled with. Again, it seemed unnecessary and impractical. The homes in Pickaway village were modestly furnished, having only what was needed for the residents to live comfortably, but the King’s tent had more useless things than Ellarian had ever seen. The King certainly liked to pamper himself and of course it was nothing for him to demand all such furnishings be carried from place to place. He wasn’t the one doing the heavy lifting or spending the time setting up his lavish lodgings. What should he care if his servants and slaves were worked nearly to death just for his own comfort?

It was sickening really. How could one man care so little for those who served him? How could he care so little for the others realms? The man was truly a monster and now, Ellarian stood in the presence of this monster, about to put her fate in his vile hands. The King stood behind a large, elaborately carved table, five guards surrounded the table as well. They were looking over maps, pointing out weaknesses in the Shee’s defenses and planning out their next attack. Ellarian shuddered at what she was hearing. The King planned to wipe out her people entirely, then pillage what was left of their home in search of any magical artifacts or scrolls that could be found.

So, Ellarian thought as she listened to the King’s plans. It is our magic that he is after. That made sense to her. Even his witches and necromancers magic was not enough to wipe out the elven realm but if they could wield the magic of the Shee, nothing could stop them. There was, however, one problem with that logic. The kind of magic that the King sought had long ago been abandoned by the Shee.

There was not a person among them who Ellarian knew that still practiced the dark arts needed to destroy or kill. Their magic was used to farm and grow life. Their magic was used to heal and commune with nature. They did have defensive wards around the village but the King’s witches had taken them down easily enough. Ellarian sighed in frustration. What would the King do when he realized that there was no dark magic in the village to pilfer?

The King had completely ignored Ellarian and Asgall as he continued with his meeting but, when they had finished and he dismissed three of the guards, he finally looked up and addressed his two visitors.

“My guard tells me that you’ve come here to surrender. Unnecessary as it is, we’ve already won this battle. Still, I suppose I’ll hear you out.” The King walked to a large, beautifully sculpted oak chair with red velvet cushions, sat upon a small dais as though it were a throne. Moving his cloak to the side, he seated himself as elegantly as any King would. The two remaining guards moved to stand next to the King, one on either side of the chair. “So, my lady, what are your terms?”

“Your guard was misinformed, your majesty.” Ellarian said as she stepped forward, head held high, and glared angrily at the King. Asgall stood at her side, silently taking stock of the room, the guards, and any weapons within his reach should he need to defend his chieftess. “I am not here to surrender but to plead with you for the lives of my people. We are a simple people, we live in peace here in the forest, and we have nothing of any value to you. Please, be merciful and leave us be. There is no benefit to killing us.”

The King raised an eyebrow as he stroked his beard, considering what Ellarian was asking. “You say you have nothing of value, so you bring nothing to the table to barter with.”

Ellarian let out a deep breath. “We have gold.” She told him. “Not coin. It’s in the form of jewelry. Pendants, bracelets, and rings. It could be sold, or melted down to make coins I suppose. Your welcome to it, all of it.”

The King sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve no use for Gold, my Lady. I have plenty. What else do you have to barter with?”

Ellarian looked to Asgall who only shrugged. What could they offer? Corn, grain, live stock? She was certain that none of those things would interest the King. Her heart sunk as she realized that she had nothing to offer this man. Nothing that she was willing to give up. “I don’t know what to offer.” She said, sounding lost and hopeless. “We have medicine and food.”

“All things that I could take for myself when I destroy your village.” The King leaned forward in his chair and stared at Ellarian. His eyes bore into her almost as if he were looking into her very soul. “You obviously do not know how a negotiation works, my dear. If you want something from me you have to be willing to give up something in return. As it is you have failed to offer anything that I value.”

“We don’t have much.” Ellarian told him. “I’m willing to give you whatever we have but we’re a farming community. There’s not much to offer other than our harvest or gold. I have nothing else to offer.”

“No?” The King stood up and walked towards Ellarian. Asgall moved to stand between them but Ellarian put a hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Asgall. He won’t harm me.”

The King smirked. “Are you so sure that I won’t kill you?” He asked her, moving closer. He was so close now that he could reach out and touch Ellarian if he wished. Ellarian shivered at the chill of his breath. This man, this thing, before her was nothing more than a dead husk. She could feel it. She felt his unnatural nature and the ice in his blood. Worse though, his breath smelled of death. Old death and rot, mingled with the coppery scent of blood. He truly disgusted her to the point where she felt she may vomit if he came even an inch closer to her.

“I’m sure that you need me.” Ellarian said, turning her face away from him. She grimaced as he laughed at her.

“And what is it that I could possibly need from you? You said yourself you have nothing. What is stopping me from slaughtering you and all of your people now?”

“I know what it is that you really seek.” Ellarian told him as she took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I know what you’ve come here for and I also know that you will never find it in the village because it isn’t something that can be touched, or read, or studied.”

King Desmond reached out an arm and slipped a hand into Ellarian’s hair, twisting a long lock around his fingers. “And, what is it that I seek?” He whispered.

Ellarian felt the bile rise in her mouth but she did the best she could to push it back down. If only she’d had her sword with her, she would have plunged it deep within the King’s chest and then cut his heart out and burned his corpse. If only she could have rid the world of the monster that was now standing so close to her that she wanted to scream and claw at his face. “Power.” She whispered in response to his question. Her voice quivered in fear, her body tensed, but she managed to turn and look at him. She stared directly into his cold, hard, eyes.

“You seek power through the old, dark, magic of my ancestors. A magic that we have not practiced in ages. You will not find scrolls or magic amulets to help you harness this power. There is only one source of such power in the entire village and only I know what and where it is.”

“Tell me.” The King demanded, his smile fading from his lips only to be replaced by a bitter frown.

Ellarian smiled, knowing she had the upper hand. “So, your majesty, are you ready to barter now?”

“Ellarian, what are you doing?” Asgall stared at her, not quite ready to believe that she would give up the secrets to their magic, even for the lives of her people.

“If this is only way to ensure that my people live then what choice do I have?” She looked at Asgall and he could see the defeat in her eyes. She had nothing left to bargain with, and the King clearly only had one goal in mind. Ellarian was right, he was after power. The kind of power that only the dark magic of their ancestors could give him.

“You can’t do this.” Asgall pleaded with her. “What he is asking of you is...”

“The only way to keep my people safe.” Ellarian forced a smile as a single tear fell down her cheek. “I’m ready to make the sacrifice if it means our people will live. Asgall, I would do anything for them, for you. Anything, to keep you all safe.”

“Enough of this!” Desmond growled. “If the two of you are here to play games with me, I’ll have your heads. But, if you truly have something worthy to bring to the table I’ll hear you out.”

“Oh, I have something worthy.” Ellarian sneered at him. “It’s what you’ve come here for, the magic of the Tuatha, the magic of the Gods.”

Desmond smirked as his eyes lit up at the mere mention of the Tuatha. Their magic was legendary and, as far as any one knew, lost to time.

“If you speak the truth...”

“I never lie.” Ellarian narrowed her eyes. “I have what you desire.”

“Where?”

“Right here.” Ellarian touched her heart. “The magic lives within me. I am the daughter of Morrigu of the Tuatha. I am the daughter of the Goddess. Her magic resides within me.”

“My Lady...” Asgall sighed as he closed his eyes.

Desmond grabbed Ellarian’s arm and pulled her to him. Asgall tried to stand between them, pushing Desmond away from her but Desmond shoved him back hard and he fell to the ground. The two guards were beside him in an instant, restraining him as he fought against them but, to no avail. They were too strong.

“Get your hands off me you brute!” Ellarian growled at the King as she struggled against his grasp.

“If what you say is true,” The King hissed. “What is stopping me from piercing your pretty throat and drinking all of this power of yours into me?”

“You think it would be that easy?” Ellarian began to laugh. “This is ancient magic. Passed down from generation to generation. You can not simply absorb it through my blood. There is a ritual that must be preformed to awaken the magic within me and only I know how to preform this ritual.”

“No, Ellarian!” Asgall shouted, tears falling from his eyes. “You can’t! You’ll lose yourself to the darkness, please, reconsider this.”

“It’s far too late for that, my friend.” Ellarian said sadly. “This is the only hand I have left to play.”

“What is he talking about?” Desmond asked. “What darkness?”

“He speaks of the darkness inside of me that I have repressed for so long. For thousands of years I have kept it locked away, never allowing it to surface. To do so would be like losing my very soul. Morrigu passes it on to all of her children. It’s a reminder of the cruelty of men. It’s her rage and her anguish. The pain of loss and watching her people fade into oblivion. The darkness is hate and death. It’s the end of all things and it sleeps within me.”

“And, you would be willing to awaken this darkness to save your people?”

“I am willing to do whatever it takes to save them.” Ellarian told him.

Desmond laughed again. He released her arm and took a couple steps back then he stood, for the first time, really looking her over. “I can see the Goddess looking back through your eyes. Of course, all I know of her are paintings. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face. It would be a great honor to be in her presence. Even in the presence of her daughter, I feel her strength in you.”

Ellarian raised an eyebrow. “Strength, or evil?”

Desmond shrugged. “Either. Both. It amuses me that you are willing to share this power with me. You could have used it to destroy me and my men, but you did not. Why, I wonder? Why not put an end to all of us and free your people yourself?”

Ellarian sighed. She looked to the ground, her face full of sorrow. “Because, to wield this power would mean my death and possibly the death of all those around me. It’s far too dangerous. But, I have no intention of sharing it with you. Through the ritual I told you about, I will transfer this magic to you. What you do with it then is up to you. Use it, at your own peril if that is what you wish, or suppress it as I have done. The choice will be yours.”

“And all this, just so that I will spare your people?”

Ellarian nodded. “Pull your army back. Leave this place and my people in peace. Take no slaves, and kill no more of my tribesmen. Promise to leave and never come back and I will go with you willingly. Once we are safely away from the village I will give you my magic.”

“And after that?” Desmond asked. His eyes raked over Ellarian’s body, taking her in. Every inch and curve of her and she could see the lust building in his eyes as he looked at her. “Once you give up your magic, what shall I do with you then?” He licked his lips and grinned. Ellarian’s stomach turned at the sight. Every word he spoke, every action, made her hate him just a little more.

“You will do nothing with me.” She sneered. “After I give up my power, I will return to my mother, to the Tuatha. My time on earth will be done.”

“Are you so ready to die? You could have requested to be returned to your village, to your tribe.”

“There is no death for my kind.” Ellarian told him. “Only a changing of energy. I’ll move on and exist in a place outside of this realm. It’s where I belong now. I am the last member of the Tuatha on earth. As long as I know that my people are safe, I can move on and be at peace.”

Desmond stroked his beard thoughtfully as he weighed the choices before him. “I accept your proposal.” He said. “Give me what I want and I promise to take my men and leave this village.”

“And never return?”

Desmond pursed his lips then nodded. “So long as I live, no vampire will ever attack Pickaway village again, nor harm any member of the Shee tribe. You have my word.”

“Then we have a deal.” Ellarian turned to look at Asgall with tears in her eyes. “Take care of them.” She whispered. “And promise me, you will live a well and full life with love and many children.”

“Ellarian...” Asgall shook his head frantically as he cried her name. “Please, you can’t...I won’t let you sacrifice your life for us. We’ll find another way.”

Ellarian smiled. Her eyes glistened with her tears as they began to fall. “Goodbye, Asgall.” She said as she turned her face away, bowed her head, and wept.

Asgall struggled against the guards holding him, demanding they release him as he tried with all his might to reach Ellarian. He would have dragged out out of that tent if he were able and carted her off someplace safe. Someplace where the wicked vampire King could never find her. He wished he had been able to do something but it was useless. He felt something hard and cold hit the back of his head. He assumed it was the hilt of a dagger but he was not sure. The moment he was struck he felt an explosion of pain and he fell to his knees. He looked up to see Ellarian being put in shackles before he lost consciousness.

When Asgall awoke again the sun was coming up and he was laying on the ground. His body was wet from the morning dew and he was covered in mud. His head still stung from the blow he’d received but the pain was beginning to fade. He pushed himself up from the mud and dirt covered ground and looked around at what was left of the village. A great pyre had been erected to burn the dead and all around, people were cleaning up, searching for loved ones, and trying to recover from the devastation caused by the vampire army.

It was in that moment that he realized there were no vampires in sight. Not one. True to his word, Desmond had ordered his army to pull out and leave. The King’s tent was gone as was the King himself. Asgall searched for Ellarian. He searched for days even though he knew he would never find her. She was gone and his heart was broken. He’d failed to protect her, and that was something he would never forgive himself for, ever.

Present day...

“I never saw her again after that day.” Asgall said, looking up at Rowan. Rowan’s eyes were locked on the man but he seemed a million miles away. “With Ellarian gone and her father dead we were in need of a new tribal chief and the village elected me to fill that role. They thought I was a hero. I had entered the vampire King’s tent and lived to tell the tale. I was no hero though. Desmond allowed me to live because of the deal he’d made with Ellarian. Her life for ours.” Asgall sighed and ran a hand through his thick, red, hair.

“What happened to Ellarian?” Thaden asked, his voice breaking through the tension that had built up in the room. “How did she end up as Desmond’s Queen?”

“That I do not know.” Asgall admitted. “We never heard from her or any news regarding her. Until this evening when Una came to find me, I had assumed she died after being taken captive. It was her plan, after transferring her magic to Desmond, to return to the Tuatha. She would simply leave her body behind and her spirit would rejoin her mother and the other ancient Gods. Something must have happened to keep her here. I just don’t know what.”

“It was me.” Thaden and Asgall both turned to Rowan who spoke up for the first time since Asgall had begun his story. “I’m what kept her here.” He said. “She stayed to protect me until she felt I was old enough to protect myself.”

Rowan pushed himself up from the table then began to busy himself cleaning up the tea cups and sweet rolls that he had set out. He didn’t know what else to do, or even what to say. Keeping busy seemed to be the only thing he could focus on at the moment. He was still reeling from Asgall’s story. Everything he had thought he knew about his parents, the ideas he’d had about them, it had all been shattered with the new information that Asgall had shared with him.

His mother had never loved his father. That much he now knew. She was little more than a treaty bride, forced to marry a man that she despised. Now her somber and bleak demeanor made more sense to him. It wasn’t abandonment by the man she loved that had caused her so much pain and heartache, it was being torn from her village, her family and friends, and kept captive for nearly thirteen years that had broken her. Rowan suddenly felt a pang of guilt at the thought of his mother’s misery. He was, in part, the cause of it. If he’d never been born, if she hadn’t loved him as much as she did, she could have escaped. Rowan was the reason that she remained. He was the reason she’d finally given up. He was the reason she was dead.

“I’m sorry if this news upsets you.” Asgall said with a twinge of sorrow in his voice. “I just thought that you deserved to know the truth. You deserved to know who your mother really was and where her people, your people, come from.”

“She never told me.” Rowan said softly, holding a wet cloth in his hands that he had been using to wipe the counter top, he suddenly clutched it now to his chest and sighed a shaky breath. “Why had she never told me? All these years I thought...” He shivered, shaking his head. “Her life was ruined all because of me.”

“No.” Thaden stood and went to Rowan. He wrapped his arms around him and held him close. “It wasn’t because of you. She stayed in Basmorte because she loved you and wanted to protect you. It’s what a mother does.”

“But she sacrificed so much.” Rowan sighed. “For me and for her people, never once thinking of herself. She allowed herself to suffer all those years and for what? If not for me she could have escaped years ago. Had a happy life. She might even be alive still.”

“Stop it.” Asgall rose to his feet and stood beside the couple. He looked down at Rowan and Rowan could see the pain in the man’s eyes. “When Ellarian agreed to be King Desmond’s captive it was with the realization that she would never return here. She intended to give her life the day she left. What happened after I can not say but, I had known your mother for many many years and I know, without a doubt, that she loved you very much. She must have. She would not have endured a life in Basmorte otherwise.”

***

Rowan walked the darkened path of garden flowers much the same way his mother used to do. Fireflies were the only illumination that lit his way. The flowers, vibrant and cheerful in the morning light, seemed cold and dark now. They thrived in the sunlight. The members of the Shee tribe thrived in sunlight. Thaden and Tally, thrived in sunlight. Rowan did not. He thrived in the darkness. The darkness gave him strength and revitalized him. It shouldn’t have been that way though. If circumstances had been different, he could have been born in Pickaway village, fully Shee and he could have had his mother by his side. Asgall may even have been his father as he now realized, Asgall had been in love with Ellarian. That much was obvious now.

Rowan’s life could have been so different if only Desmond had never invaded the Shee village. If Ellarian had never sacrificed herself for the good of her people. Maybe Rowan would never have been born at all. What upset him most of all though was the fact that his mother had never told him anything of her past. She’d never spoken of her parents or where she had come from. She had never spoken of her life before Rowan was born. Maybe it was too painful for her to bring up or maybe, she was trying to protect Rowan from the truth. He still had no idea what happened to her after she left Pickaway village with Desmond. Maybe the truth would always be hidden from him. Maybe she preferred it that way.

Rowan’s wanderings led him into the forest, into a thick grove of full, blossoming trees. The cool nights of the changing season had not touched the forest surrounding the Shee village. Their magic, which came from nature itself, kept the trees, shrubs, and all flora alive, even in winter. Rowan remembered the garden at Ravenskeep being the same, beautiful and alive all year round. Only days before his mother’s death did he notice her garden begin to wilt. He wondered what the garden looked like now. Was it even still there? Was there any life left in it? Could he, being part Shee, revitalize it if there was? He pushed the thought out of his head as soon as he had thought it. It was unlikely that he would ever see Ravenskeep again.

Rowan stopped suddenly and looked up. He realized that he was now in the very center of the grove and right before him was a beautiful tree with full, thick leaves, and red, berry-like pomes. He recalled seeing a tree similar to the one he was looking at in his mother’s garden. It wasn’t in the center of the garden as her beloved oak had been but nestled in the back, almost hidden from view. He once thought of the tree and it’s location as a secret and magical place for there was definitely something magical about it. Past the countless plants, flowers, and shrubs, and up a set of stone steps he would find the tree standing alone, surrounded by a wall of brick that, as a child, had nearly reached his chest.

He would go there and hide while he played, imagining some dragon or troll was after him. He knew somehow that the tree would protect him. It was magic after all. Once though, he had been playing, running from some imaginary witches, and had gone straight to the tree but stopped when he saw his mother there. She was kneeling in front of the tree and weeping. One hand was outstretched, touching the trunk as she whispered something in a language that Rowan didn’t understand. Something in the way his mother looked, shoulders drooped, falling tears, and the utter lack of happiness that he could feel coming off her, had stopped him in his tracks. The tree no longer seemed mysterious and magical. It was a place of sorrow and regret. He never visited it again after that day.

The tree before him now reminded him so much of that tree in his mother’s garden that he could have sworn it was the small one, if he had not known that that was impossible. His mother’s tree had probably died years ago but still, there was something familiar about it, something that was almost...comforting. Not sure why he was doing it, Rowan walked to the tree and gently lay down beneath it. He pulled his cloak around his body and closed his eyes. Maybe it was the quiet seclusion of the area, or the soft rustling of the leaves as a soft breeze blew through them, or just the stress of the evening finally being too much for him, but as soon as Rowan closed his eyes he felt himself begin to drift off.

All the sounds of night lulled him off to sleep and when he was finally deep into his slumber, he had the most wonderful dream he’d ever had in his life.