Becoming Legend

'I write these words in wood, for I'm afraid, anything that We have written will be exalted.'

'We wandered the darkness, hoping to die along the way.'

'My brethren ignored the other facts, We cannot die. We were created for something bigger.'

'He will find Us.'

'Perhaps, send someone.'

'A signal went off, We found it. Our Salvation.'

'For good, We left the Path to freeze in the North.'

'They decided; help the inhabitants of this world.'

'This world is strange, they have something what they called a Core.'

'Perhaps They are right, I am mad, or simple daft. But, I have broken the rule. And this world isn't safe. There are things coming to this world. Things not even Us could stop.'

'I am wrong. We are wrong. Only I can die. Now, They are jealous and so am I. I wanted to live. They wanted to die. Now, They broke the rules, and left the inhabitants to wander.'

'He discovered something, our true Salvation.'

'Our fault has begun; the first Gate appeared.'

'They left everyone to die; for the same reason We left our home.'

'I found a way to survive. A vessel.'

'I will return. No—I need to return for the sake of all. Even if it means to sacrifice, all and Them.'

The air went quiet as the elf read the book written in an unknown language. The elf sat in a wooden chair, coiled with vines that brimmed with life. He was a High Elf, his build was slim but strong, like a dagger. An elf with pointed ears and eyebrows elegantly slanted and he wore his golden hair full of pride. He looked young, despite his age—for humans, he was around fifteen or sixteen, but they would gape knowing his real age.

An elegant sword pressed against the wooden chair. Not far from him was a powerful bow slung against the burnished wall, opposite to it a quiver of arrow fletched with feathers.

The ash-wood door fanned open and another elf came by. Wearing unlike the elf in the chair, but still, he wore his green robe with joy as he knelt with one.

He was quiet for a moment as he kept on staring at the matted floor. Behind the High elf were fossil-old books arranged perfectly inside a case made of wood. Windows covered with tiny leaves ran the room in circle.

"Forgive me, Prince Aesril," the kneeling elf said. Soft and careful. Brown hair tied neatly to avoid hanging.

"You know me, Gelethorn," Aesril said. Nonchalantly waving his hand to dismiss the honest Wood Elf. "In my chamber, all regality is dismissed. Now stand, and sit."

Prince Aesril snapped his finger, then a chair made of climbing vines was formed.

Without a doubt, the two were friends, as Gelethorn or Gele, as the prince called his elfhood friend, sat overflowing with a smile in the vine-made chair. The chair was fitted perfectly to Gele as his thin or needle-like saber hangs beside his waist.

"That nameless book again, my Prince?" Gele said, without dropping the title, pointing his gaze at the old and shabby book on Aesril's lap.

"Ná, Gele," Aesril said. Excited to share what he learned, which he always does, especially to Gele. "Did you know, that originally this book—"pointing with finger at the book—"was written in wood but only transferred due to the passing of time?"

"Yes, my Prince," Gele said with less care. "We were taught by Elder Calanye during our first hundred years. And my Prince, elves are required to learn our history, and unfortunately, human history as well."

Prince Aesril lowered his shoulder. "Of course," he said sighing. "Elves must learn all these things: history, magic, technology, bestiary, religion, topography...

"My Prince."

language, crafting...

"My Prince."

alchemy—"

"Prince Aesril!" Gele cried. But as soft as he could.

Aesril almost jumped off his seat. "Maker's tongue!" he said cursing. "I raved, again?"

"Ná, my Prince," Gele said, not in surprise. "Of all the books, why read that book that is halfway done?"

Prince Aesril was entranced by the knowledge that he rarely went out of his study chamber and mingled with his fellow elves. Even his father, the King, King Ascathan of the Final Seed, must force Aesril out his chamber.

"This book," he said. Looking seriously at the old stack of papers. "Intrigues me, no one knew the author, not even our Elder. But what he wrote, almost, matched the history of Earflgard. I wanted to preserve this, but no matter how long I kept it inside my ring, the pages are torn every time I took it out."

"Maybe it was supposed to be made that way," Gele said, matching his Prince tone of voice. "You said it yourself, and it was written: 'I write these words in wood, for I'm afraid, anything that We have written will be exalted'. Maybe whoever wrote it doesn't want to be praised, because, after all, what he wrote was a lie."

"You got a point, Gele," Prince Aesril said, rubbing his delicate chin. "But—"

"But," Gele interrupts. "My Prince, your father wished to see you, the Seed Assembly is about to start, and you're nowhere to be found at the Upper Seed Hall. Elders are making their way. And you don't want Elder Calanye's wrath, do you?"

"The assembly?" Aesril said, closing the book with care, the same as how he cared for his sword and bow. "Why would they need me? And the Elders?"

"Yes, my Prince," Gele nodded. "The assembly is utmost importance since the Elders from the Middle and Lower Seed are summoned as well."

Prince Aesril shrugged his shoulders. "Indeed it is," He said. "If they're willing to set aside their qualms, then, it must be extremely important."

"Plus," Gelethorn said smiling. "Princess Gadsi will be there."

Prince Aesril waved his hand, the vine that Gele sat, vanished and he fell with his butt. The great Wood Elf Ranger could only shake a head with embarrassment.

As if the vines have a life of their own, they moved to give way to Prince Aesril and Gelethorn in a chamber of woods. The two reached with great pace the rounded chamber, the structure was the same with the rest; walled with giant vines, and formed like a giant basket with intricate vines acted as support.

Prince Aesril went with haste beside the great throne. There, standing, within the gaps of the vines, Prince Aesril smiled as he looked at the thousands of giant leaves waving back and forth. Branches as big as a city stretched far and wide. Underneath, were hundreds of purple fruits as big as towns clamped together.

Gelethorn remained together with the rest of the attendants, at the corner of the vine chamber. Some lesser council members were seated at the edges of the council room. In the middle— there, assembled a group of elves brimming with wisdom.

Three elders sat in a fan-shaped position, behind these Elders were their successors. Divided by a turning table, facing Prince Aesril and an elf sitting in an enormous throne made of vines. Leaves, sprouts with each vine that coiled the throne.

Beside the king, stood Prince Aesril. Silent, and studying.

Pointed ears, sharp green eyes, and golden thread of hair faced the elders. His armor, green and soft, made of roots acting like chainmail. He sat illustriously. "My elders," The King of Elves announced, his voice round and elegant. "We hid too much—that humans forget us. Us who taught them the ways of magic. It would be pleasant if we lived in the past. But now... "

Only Aesril saw the King gripping with might the edge of his throne.

The King continued. "Semsmir Scouts sent a word."

Elves were classified according to their bloodlines. And the three Purebloods were: High Elf—Absmir. Wood Elf—Kahmsir, and Dark Elf—Carsmir. Below the Purebloods were Elf—Smir, and Half-elf—Semsmir. And the Blood Elf—the tainted and simply the lowest, that the King of Elves, doesn't bother to name them.

Before the Great Race War, Elves were called according to their tongue languages. Only the Elders remained to call them with their original names after the unification.

King Ascathan flicked his wrist. Smooth edged stone appeared and handed it to Prince Aesril, which formed a knitted brow on the latter.

Prince Aesril knew what to do, he's been doing the assembly for as long as he could remember. He nodded at the successor behind an old gloomy elf, placed the stone in the winding table, and injected mana into it. The same mana his Father has—Pure High Elf mana.

The stone lit blue and a visual of three-figure dashed in an abandoned town. Bodies scattered as wide as the visual of the stone could reach. One of them stopped, pulled a dagger behind his waist, and precisely cut the human-like beasts, that lunged toward him, in the neck. Dark blood oozed, but the three weren't bothered by the incoming beasts. They evaded, and dashed, going inside the forest.

Wood Elf Elder gasped. "By the Maker!" he said, clinching his gingered fist. "Ghouls!"

"Alghouls as well, Elder Naglanor," said Elder Calanye, the Elder for High-Elf. Silver hair, and wrinkled pointy ears.

The King remained silent, watching, how the three Elders would react.

In the visual stone, one of the scouts died, as hundreds of Alghouls feasted in his body. But the two continued dashing forward inside the darkened forest.

"What are your thoughts, Elder Madras," Naglanor said, the Elder for the Wood Elf, curly brown hair, knitted reaching his waist.

Elder for Dark Elf remained silent. He was focused on the stone as the two evaded hundreds of ghouls and alghouls.

"Father Madras" soft voice rung behind his pointed ears. Princess Gadsi leaned and whispered. "They are asking you."

Dark Elf Elder Madras gestured his hand to dismiss his daughter. He knew, but he could care less to answer the two Elder.

The two scouts stopped. Not far from them an obscured image went inside the Gate, and with a rippling burst. The Gate released an immense light, with thunder before it exploded. "My King," one of the scout whispered. Then, thousands of mindless beast exited the Gate.

Before the two could react, one of them was swept away by a black and massive figure. The remaining scout gasped, and instinct told him that he needed to move. The scout dashed away from the Gate. The Half-elf cried and the stone went dim.

The Upper Seed Chamber fell silent.

"My King," Prince Aesril said. Breaking the agreed silence."The Gate, wasn't normal, was it?"

King Ascathan gave his son a nod. "The Gate," he said. Addressing the elves. "Was created by men, not just men, I believe, these men, are closely related—if not, a soldier of the Overlord Genesys. But, there's more to it. And that is the reason why I summoned you all—despite our differences. I could care less if humans slaughter their own. But our Ancestors made a promise to one of the Maker." King Ascathan paused, waiting for someone to raise a doubt. Which he was right.

"Maker," Elder Madras scoffed. Dark and purple veins popped his neck. It showed his bloodline. Dark-Elf. "How sure are we that they exist? It wasn't even sure if the last Maker appeared a thousand years ago was real. I suggest we let the traitors perish by their own stupidity! Just as how they slaughtered our kin!"

Attendants, council members, and the three Elders went into an uproar.

"Ná!"

"Let them!"

"For my Ancestor!"

"My King! Let them die!"

"Throw them to the pits!"

King Ascathan raised a hand, the room fell to silence. "Our ancestor's promise lead us—the elves, to near extinction. It's just thanks to Pin'Tu, that helped us to recover. But that doesn't mean we could let the world around us perish. If Earflgard perish, so our chance going back home. The appearance of this Gate—which according to the stone's visual and the information gathered by the scouts, must lead to another realm."

"By the Maker!"

"A realm!"

"Home!"

"I know," The King said with joy. "It is possible, that whoever made the Gate could lead is back to our realm."

"So you're saying, that the Gate was connected to a realm, rather than a Bridge?" Elder Naglanor asked in surprise.

"Possible," The King answered. "It's also possible that it isn't, that is why—we needed more evidence. My brothers and sisters! It's time."

"Father," Prince Aesril whispered, now standing next to the King. His face was filled with different emotions. "Don't tell me."

"Yes!" The King pronounced. "It's time to venture the Outside. Great Elders! Showered by the wisdom of our Maker—Isashil. Assemble a team, send it to the island. Go inside the Gate, and find the door that will lead us to our home—Elfeinheim.