For three days Hector stayed with Shael, before Daelith would lead him back to their own arbor near nightfall. The morning after he would shake the line of cran shells outside the entrance of Daelith’s hollow to return to Shael once more.

They talked of the coming war, of her people and their ways. Hector learned much of the five Tribes, each having been named after the five great beasts to the sylven: the deer, the ox, the turtle, the wolf, and the hummingeagle. He found that Shael rarely talked of herself. So he spoke of the ways of humanity and struck upon feudalism, which baffled Shael.

“How can you be set down only one path?” she asked, frowning at the concept of classes, from common born peasantry to the mageborn nobles. “It is known of one’s duty to their people to act of their greatest strengths and be respected for their work. To be chieftain one must be voted as the wisest, most experienced, and most dedicated to their people, not just by the measure of their strength. This is known to all sylven through tribal bond.”

Hector nodded, “Much of the hierarchy of my people is dictated by one’s own strength. The mageborn are seen as descendants of the Mythic, the gods believed to have created mankind.” He grimaced. “At least that’s what we’ve been told by the Faith. Lies it seems we’ve been spoon fed for centuries.”

“It is common for your kind to deceive one another then?” said Shael.

“Unfortunately it is. In that regard our kind are different. Perhaps it is due to not knowing this way your people speak of. Perhaps we must find our own way.”

Hector realized he was facing inches away from Shael, staring back intently with her golden eyes. The features of her face were sharp and angular, yet there was an underlying softness to her form. Whereas her brows were arched proud and imperious her eyes were muted amber pools, her irises the darkness just brimming beneath the surface. From the downward curve of her nose, followed by the gentle indent falling to her verdant blooming lips now partly open, as if about to whisper a secret.

Hector quickly spoke of another subject, and saw Shael wear a strange expression he had not seen before, forbearing and open to his words.

"I was brought up in a castle," Hector mused. "A construct of stone; cold, hard, and grey. The mages divide themselves from everyone else. Everything else."

"Then we are not so different after all," Shael murmured. "Trapped in worlds separate from our own."

"Perhaps," Hector said. "I used to conjure up my own worlds in my mind. Somewhere else, somewhere far away from the Three Realms. Distant dreams, in my mind. Do your kind have dreams?"

Shael's mouth drew to a somber line. "We do, but like all dreams, once they come to pass we are reminded of the way of things."

“Your wounds have healed,” Hector marveled one day as he watched a sylf cut away the stitching of Shael’s wounds with a bone knife, who lay backside up.

“Never have I seen wounds heal so fast, in three days no less,” murmured the sylf in Draiell. “Truly you are blessed by Vath.”

“So I have been told,” Shael replied.

When the sylf was done, Shael bowed her head in thanks and she departed. Shael stood up to lace up the new jerkin gifted to her as Hector turned away.

“Does my body offend you?” She asked, bemused.

“No,” Hector said, face reddening away from view. “You have a fine body. I mean, it is not normal in our ways to see one’s nakedness.”

“You may turn around,” Shael said. “You have already seen me. If you find my body fine, then why refuse me?”

She was closer now, amber eyes searching for his answer.

“Because it is not you Shael. You are acting in duty, not of your own free will."

"And what if I were to act of my free will?" She drew ever closer, amber eyes gleaming in the suns' light.

“You’re not,” Hector stated firmly. They were inches apart now. His gaze wandered down the tautness of her neck, a bead of sweat dripping down her smooth green skin.

Her eyes narrowed and one hand pressed against his chest. Hector shifted to the side, away from her path as she strode towards the hollow’s opening. “Come,” she said with biting curtness. “It’s time you continue your training.”

They made their way from branchwork to branchwork, until eventually Shael jingled the string of cran shells beside a hollow. Daelith emerged from the mass of moss with his usual grin.

“Ah, it is good to see you well!” He spoke in his easy going candor. “What brings you my way?”

“I need an Odigwa,” Shael said tersely. “We will train near the Aqiir (ocean).”

Daelith nodded, “If you will follow me.”

When they reached the top of a nesting ground Daelith turned, “The waters are nearest to the east. I’ll guide you there.”

“I thank you, but your aid will not be needed,” Shael said. “I have already made my way myself. I shall train Hector there, alone.”

Daelith shrugged and gave a knowing smile. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it then. Orville,” he gestured to the sole bird currently in its nest, “will be your mount.”

Shael brought one hand to the head of the great bird before them, closing her eyes as the hummingeagle bowed its head down in turn. She then stepped up the stirrup onto the contoured saddle and extended her arm out for Hector to reach. Once they were both fastened securely to the saddle Shael commanded, “Eimear!”

The Odigwa reared its wings and lifted off from the tree’s canopy, Daelith waving farewell below. The tree canopy was a verdant sea with its medley of yellow, orange, turquoise, and purple flowers dotted over the sloping greenery. It seemed life grew stronger the closer it was to the first Arbor, the trees slowly receding in height as a mountain at its peak.

The winds buffeted Hector’s face as the hummingeagle drifted from current to current. The horizon was a gradient of purple, pink and pale orange as the suns sunk from view.

Their trip was shorter than their journey between arboreals of the Elkin to the Odigwe Tribe, and soon Hector gazed out to the Oceanum, turquoise waters overlapped with bluish green depths and white frothing waves tinged orange from the suns’ set. The giant bird flapped onto light brown dunes which sprayed sand upwards from its landing.

Upon dismounting Shael placed her hand onto the Odigwa’s head once more and the humming eagle hunched down in rest.

She unshouldered and searched through her pack to hold two sticks. She then threw the sticks one by one at Hector who caught them in each hand deftly, as if each were a speeding arrow.

“Already?” he questioned. Shael dashed forward and was parried away. She continued her attack, a flurry of slashes that Hector circled away from and grunted as she kicked his right side with her shin.

“If you never attack you will fall,” Shael said.

“You just recovered,” he protested, blocking a downward strike to his head.

“Will you give your foe mercy when they shall give none?” Shael bared her teeth. “Hesitation is weakness. Weakness in battle is death.”

Hector bent over to tackle Shael and grunted as she jerked his neck downwards to spear her knee though his belly. He wheezed and collapsed to the soft sands.

“Get up,” Shael demanded. Hector spun his legs out to trip Shael who dodged lazily to the side and kicked him through his chest. He gasped and stared at the now dusky sky, streaks of orange and purples giving way to darkening indigo.

He stood back up into his stance as Shael stalked back and forth, sticks held low in open contempt. She moved as a gust of wind, sudden and swift only to flit back out of range unanswered. Hector lunged and was rewarded with a sharp prod to his gut.

“Get up,” Shael repeated harshly. Hector caught Conrad circling round them in the corner of his eye, though he remained focused on Shael.

She’s not going easy on you, Conrad remarked.

Hector gritted his teeth. I don’t need your help.

I’d be disappointed if you did, the spirit replied curtly. Just listen. Feint high and step forward. Duck quickly and trip her front foot while pushing her to the ground. Now.

Hector raised his sticks as if to strike while closing the distance and felt the sticks rush past his head as he squatted low to sweep Shael’s right leg. She lifted her foot up and he shoved her back with a closed fist to her chest, toppling the Warden to the ground.

Before Shael rose Hector pointed one stick down her neck.

“It’s over,” he said in finality and extended his hand. The suns had now disappeared, only dimming orange remaining. Shael took his hand and he pulled her up. They were close, again. She met his gaze and held it, searching through his eyes for what he did not know. She stepped closer. Hector fidgeted with discomfort and turned away before Shael suddenly shoved him back and snapped, “Why do you refuse me? It is obvious you want me. So why do you still refuse?”

“Because I’ve been used before as a means to an end!” Hector snapped back. “You have no love for me. The only reason you seek for us to be together is to make peace between our peoples. That’s all anyone wants from me. Because I would be High King. Because I’m meant to be someone that makes everything work for everyone. I’m not.” He threw his sticks to the sand.

“So you will let your father’s death be unavenged?” Shael asked without remorse. “You will let your people go on to hunt, enslave and kill my kind?”

“No!” Hector shouted, aghast. “No. But I am not ready for such a commitment as to being with you Shael.”

“When are we ever?” she said softly.

Hector looked away and Shael gave a closed smile, “You are odd, Hector Riordan.”

“How so?”

“You are not how I thought humans were.”

“You are not how I thought sylven were,” he said in kind.

One tapered brow quirked up. “Oh? And what do you think of this sylvan?”

“Someone selflessly brave. A guardian of her people, uncompromising in her honor,” Hector spoke with uncertainty, as if he were uttering precious secrets. “Graceful as the rushing winds, powerful as a towering waterfall. She can be gentle however. Her touch like the pattering of rain, yet feeling as the suns’ warmth. Golden eyes soft as the light’s morning glow," he continued, knowing there was no going back from Shael's growing expression. For her cheeks though green reached a rosy blush, like a half ripened apple. "Body slender and supple as the dew off a fresh leaf. Beautiful,” Hector said hoarsely. “She is everything beautiful.”

“We have many ballads for love, from many dryads and druids,” Shael murmured. “That was not the first I have received. Perhaps now, it may finally be the last.”

The air was suddenly hot and still, ready to erupt to the smallest of movements. He drew closer, as did she.

Shael regarded him as Hector leaned in and cupped her face with one hand; her golden eyes searching and frantic, as if she were not scared, but terrified. She closed her eyes and brushed her lips with his; a graze, a soft kiss.

The embrace set what was once smoldering to ignite with hot blooded passion. Hector kissed her again and gently lapped his tongue with hers. She tasted of mint and sweet berries. Hector held the back of Shael’s neck and drew back, lost in her peerless eyes. He undid the string holding her jerkin, fingers trembling and faltering.

“Damn,” he swore under his unsteady breath. Shael pulled the string in a swift motion and shouldered out from her vestment, helping Hector take off his own tunic in their haste. He kissed her once more, rougher this time, as if a hunger set about him that was sated only by the taste of her.

His lips explored the skin of her neck, her breath tickling his ear. Her skin was slick from the sweat of their sparring, soft as verdant velvet. Never had he heard Shael heavy of breath, yet heavy did she breathe, and heavier still as his attentions drew to her full breasts. Her nipples swelled at his touch, and he bent down to nip one hardened bud to which she gave a sharp gasp.

“Gently,” Shael murmured almost fearfully.

Hector pushed her softly down to the sandy ground. He pulled off her deer hide pants as she shimmied out from her undergarment, her legs bent wide open to reveal her bared verdancy. He unbuckled his belt and stripped naked as her, bent down to hold Shael with tender care. He gazed back into her, as did she, and his fingers wandered in between her thighs. She drew a sharp intake of breath, for she was slippery with wet desire.

Hector nudged her legs further apart and slowly, ever so gently entered her. She felt more human than any human he had ever been with. Shael gasped and wrapped her arms round Hector’s back in a tight embrace as he leaned over. He felt resistance, but it was over so fast he wondered if he had scarcely felt it at all.

He moved as the lapping tide behind them, washing over and pulling back in its languid rhythm. He moved faster, face half buried in her flowing hair, her panicked breath exhaling as he inhaled in turn. She pulled the back of his head to face her and she kissed him fiercely, without mercy nor hesitance now.

Hector grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as a cascade of visions, no, Shael’s every being, overwhelmed his mind. He witnessed her leaping forth through the forest. Her rites of initiation as Warden of the Elkin Tribe, the trials she had to endure. The deaths of her drian (mother) and saph (father) from the raids of man. Deeper still into her well of thought was something closely guarded but now fully revealed. The hope of Fenrith passed to her in their unacted love.

Hector gasped, and it was all over in an instant as he released all he was into Shael. He slipped out from her, and her strong legs uncrossed as he collapsed, breathless, lying his head sideways onto the small of her neck.

“We are one now,” Shael whispered in his ear, brushing his hair tenderly with one hand.

“What just happened?” Hector breathed.

“We are now in union. The bonds of mating shows the other all we are, but not all we can be.”

“You have lost… so much,” Hector spoke, voice ragged. “How can you be with someone like me?”

“You are pure of heart, brave as any Warden, and honest as any sylvan I know,” she answered, her voice soft as the warm winds which caressed them. “You are more than just the boy you think you are. Be proud of your father, for he was willing to risk the path to peace. Be proud of your ancestry, for you come from a long line of warriors.”

“Do you… have two hearts?” Hector asked, ducking his head over her right breast, a steady beat slower than to her left.

“Yes. Is it not the same for your kind?”

“No, we only possess one heart. No wonder your kind can move so fast for so long,” Hector noted. “I wonder if we’ll be able to live in peace when this ends,” he turned to the side, propping his head with one bent arm to continue staring at her bare beauty. “For too long we’ve believed in lies and superstition. How will it look, the once thought dead Prince, now allied with Orr’s natives?” Hector sighed. “I will be branded a betrayer to my kind.”

“If there are more humans like you,” Shael said slowly. “Then there is hope for peace between our peoples. Come,” she stood and pulled him up. “Let’s swim together.”

“Shael,” he said gently. She paused as her hand holding his would not move. “You know what happened to him. I’m sorry.”

Shael’s back faced him as she let go of his hand. “I know you truly are,” she finally said, looking up at the star filled sky. “Fenrith never truly died. He will be reborn into the next life, as we all will. In this life right now, we are bound together. Come. I wish to enjoy it with you.”

So they bathed in the warm waters, clear and never ending. Sharing in the splendor of the night, pinpoints of twinkling light mixed with the swirling and ribboning azure heavens. The moon shone triumphant overhead, scattered in reflection between the rippling waters.

Hector basked in it all, savoring the world alongside Shael.