Excerpt from Alexan’s First Journal, Tour of the Shining Lands.

One of the best examples of how unfair life can be, as far as I’m concerned, is found in the lifespans of the greater elemental races. No Dwarf will ever live as long as the crafted Galm, no Ashkey will ever live as long as a storied Erlkin. No Harpy will live so long as the melodious Sirens. Only the pure ‘greater’ elementals can live hundreds of years, or even longer if they can figure out how to refine their seed.

All the lesser elementals and us Unsown don’t have the constitution for it. If we try to extend our lives that way, we’ll just get eaten alive from the inside out. Sure there’s the odd rumour, and I’ve met at least one person who I think might actually be an immortal and isn’t a greater elemental… but the odds don’t look good from where I’m standing.

Perhaps the only exception is the Lume. The greater elemental race of Light, like all greater elemental races, have their own unique way of raising offspring. The Lume, very literally, raise their offspring from the wildlife around them, transforming them from lowly beast to dignified perfection. The process is unsettling to witness partway through, I saw it once, and that was enough. But after it’s complete, one Lume is every bit as pious and pretentious as the other. But even if they are an exception, they still don’t give their gifts to the ‘lesser’ races.

Only the animals are so lucky.

Unnamed Tal

The closer he got, the more visible the age of the Elder.

[...]

The memory shown to Tal before had shown the old Erlkin in polished black wooden armour edged with gold filigree and decorated with green cloth. This Elder stood with posture unbent by time and eyes that didn’t seem to miss anything. Tal realized with a shock that he’d never seen an Erlkin with wrinkles, and he could see the lines of age around the eyes and mouth of the Grand Elder.

As the oldest leader of Linumbra’s embrace, his clothing seemed properly elegant. Multilayered robes with wide hanging sleeves that hid the hands he had clasped behind his back. He wore a black tabard over the robe with green and gold threading along the edge. In the center of the tabard was a tree shown with the roots growing every bit as large as the branches. The robe was of fine cloth and also edged with gold and green thread along the collar, cuff and edge.

“Grand Elder Darisen,” the Warden spoke, voice clear and serious. “As you have requested, Yekchetal.”

The Erlkin warrior stepped aside and gestured to Tal, prompting him forward.

Tal stepped forward before he even realized it, feeling as if there was no choice but to move.

Only the head of Elder Darisen was visible. Tal could see the same forward-pointed horns and short cropped hair, but all of it was pitch dark and oozed shadow that fell across the Elder’s shoulders like the long hair of an Erlkin Matron. The line of dark spots that typically crept out from an old Erlkin’s horn had descended to just above Darisen’s now black eyebrows. The gaze of the Great Elder unnerved him.

“Great Elder Darisen,” Tal spoke, inclining his head.

“Unnamed Yekchtal, do you know why you are here?”

His voice was strong, although it had shifted slightly from the memory. Older yes, slightly wispier, but Darisen’s speaking voice had not weakened with age. The authority he carried had only increased.

[...]

Tal kept his eyes down as he replied, “No Great Elder, I don’t know.”

There was a long moment of silence. Tal resisted the urge to shift or fidget, but found himself looking at the pedestal before he knew it.

“I see a part of you knows all too well,” Tal twitched as the Great Elder spoke. He lost himself just long enough to look at Darisen before dropping his eyes again.

“Would you like a closer look?” the Great Elder asked.

Honestly, he did. Tal looked up to the Elder and glanced at the pedestal. It wasn’t like what he remembered. The dream had shown Tal something full of hate and anger. Now the shadow was…

It was little more than a dark blot on his vision. The sight was remarkable, but it carried no emotion that he could feel. “What is it, Great Elder?” Tal asked.

The elder Erlkin released his imperious stance, dropping his hands from behind his back he waved to the pedestal with his right. “It is the very core of the seal on our home, and the reason the seal exists.” He turned and walked towards the pedestal of black twisted wood.

Tal followed suddenly, feeling like he was on the verge of tripping. As the Erlkin faced away, Tal couldn’t even see Darisen’s head from behind, obscured as it was by the seeping shadow.

Darisen walked around to the opposite side of the pedestal, the twisted black wood and blot of light filling Tal’s sight.

Tal stopped opposite the elder. Instinctively he reached, but caught himself before touching the thing.

“Do you know what they say about you Yetchetal?” Elder Darisen asked.

Tal’s mouth twisted slightly. Of the things that were said about Tal, there were really only two that he was aware of.

One was that he was an abandoned cast-off. He knew that story was just a lie made up to make him angry. Knowing the truth didn’t help when those few he could consider his peers would make up jokes, rhymes and songs then laugh along together in the telling.

The other one he had only heard in carefully-guarded whispers or slip of the tongue. Or at least that’s what he’d known until seeing the memories of the sentinel.

But the Elder had no way to know about that. Probably.

“I’ve heard it… a little,” Tal admitted truthfully, “I’ve heard people call me ‘chosen,’ although never for what.”

“They are afraid,” Darisen replied without hesitation. “And you have heard correctly. I have required of your aetheric teacher Nolsa that she report to me on your progress regularly. I understand that while you still have the foolishness of youth, that you are otherwise no fool.”

“Then… Elder Darisen,” Tal stumbled over the honorific, “I am the key to… opening the seal? But it’s been up for so long, I can’t be the first?”

“Astute.” Darisen replied, gauging Tal with his eyes. “No, you are not the first, but opening the seal isn’t the core of your duty.”

“It isn’t?” Tal asked, inwardly cringing at how quick he’d asked. The thought of the Elder realizing Tal knew anything made him more nervous than just meeting the Grand Elder.

“No,” Darisen replied, his eyes already on the dark blot of shadow, “Your duty is to choose. Unnamed Yekchetal. Unnamed… you are not. Read another way, your name can be said as ‘Latch Key.’ A key has two purposes, to unlock a sealed door, or to lock a door ready to be opened.”

[...]

Tal blinked.

Individuals within Linumbra’s had two names, their birth name, and their purpose. Those without a purpose lived with the moniker ‘unnamed’ to show they were still searching for what they would do.

He opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say.

What Elder Darisen had said meant that Tal had a purpose… but not a name?

“I understand you are confused, young Yekchetal. Indeed, how are you to know if the time is right to unseal Linumbra’s embrace and that which it protects? Come with me and I will show you.”

The Grand Elder gestured to his right, indicating one of the rooms Tal had passed while following the Warden. Tal turned and jerked in surprise as he realized how close the Warden had been, even as the Erlkin guard moved aside.

Tal flinched again and his breath hitched as he felt one of his wounds crack open. The pain distracted him as Tal followed Grand Elder Darisen's lead.

The moment he stepped into the chamber, it was clear to Tal the room had only one purpose.

The walls themselves were entirely unadorned, the simple wooden surface completely clear and clean. It gave the impression of making sure there was nothing that couple possibly distract from what sat in the middle of the quarter-circle shaped room.

A large artifact sat in the center of the room. While Tal knew from the dream that it wasn't the case, at a glance he would have assumed this one to be more complex than the pedestal holding the sealed one.

As everything else in the Heart, the construct was grown from natural wood. What surprised Tal was seeing the white bark covered with horizontal black lines that was typical of gemfruit trees. Convincing a gemfruit tree to grow somewhere new was a monumental effort, almost certainly never yielding any fruit.

By some trick unknown to Tal, someone had grown not one, but three gemfruit trees together. Equally placed in a triangle, they had been shaped to come together in a complex basket around an orb. The orb seemed to be full of oddly glittering water and the longer Tal looked, the more his eyes watered.

The basket itself was precisely grown. The trees themselves weren't large by any means, not much more than saplings. The primary trunks grew straight until just below the basket, at which point all three twisted leftwards. As the three trunks grew around the basket they bulged out and then wound inwards to form a round cavity. Branches grew out from the trunks at precise points and angles to form a magical pattern beyond Tal's understanding. Between the trunks and branches more pieces of elemental wood along with rare metals had been used to add more and more layers to the complex thing.

The whole orb had been carefully divided into eight quadrants. If not for the large gem fruit pits mounted at the center of each quadrant, Tal would have had a much harder time seeing the division. Imitating the random pattern of life with complex designs couldn't have been easy for whoever crafted the thing. What was even more impressive was the fist-sized pits, the largest he'd ever seen.

"What is it," Tal asked.

"A window to the outside world," Elder Darisen replied as he walked around the construct.

[... lies,] the voice whispered, faint to the point Tal wasn't sure he'd actually heard it.

"The outside?" Tal asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"You seem skeptical." Elder Darisenxs eyes were sharp as he spoke, clearly judging Tal’s words.

Finding himself pushed, Tal decided to be brave and push back. "Maybe I had reason to be. I still don't know why I was in that cell."

Darisen smiled, "Reasonable. You were in the cell because of the shadow. You encountered it while fighting the pale wyrm, yes?"

Tal reflexively looked at his palms, still cracked and bruised black from his experience. "Yes, I did."

"The shadow is a dangerous thing, known to stalk the chosen."

Tal closed his hands, forming them into fists. He had to be careful not to clench his hands too tight. "It saved us though, by attacking the wyrm."

"True, and it is reasonable to be thankful for having your life saved, but consider this, young Human," Darisen paused as he raised a white hand with deep black nails. "How can you be sure the shadow did not bring the wyrm?"

Shock rippled lightly across Tal’s skin at the suggestion, the lie from the Elder. Made worse by the instant realization that he would have believed Darisen.

If not for the dream.

"But, why?" Tal asked, looking up at the Ancient Erlkin.

"It is simple, young Yekchetal. That shadow is a fragment of the thing trapped within the sealed darkness, and it wants out."

"But then it would break the seal? That would release the barrier."

Elder Darisen gave a confident nod, throwing the shadows about his head into small eddies of smoke. "Indeed, and that is why it is important that you see this scrying orb." He spread his hands wide to the artifact. "While it takes decades to refine the light mana to the purity needed, this scrying orb allows us a brief look outside."

[Impossible.]

"We can see the outside?" Tal asked, careful not to react to the voice.

"Indeed. Having viewed the surroundings, the orb will hold an image of the outer world, a moment of time." Darisen turned his head, his eyes looking into Tal’s with purpose. "I have done this for the safety of Linumbra’s embrace, so that the chosen can decide our fate with the best possible knowledge."

Tal looked away, staring into the glittering orb.

"Let me show you," Darisen spoke, his voice understanding and calm.

The warm pressure of channelled aether tugged gently at Tal as Darisen went to work. The Elder fed aether into the artifact, carefully sending his energy into another weave below the orb. It was certainly more aether than Tal could even think of touching, more aether than what had put Tal in his current state.

The water within shifted, a mist appearing and swirling about and filling with colour. Tal took a half step back as the orb suddenly expanded, pushing out past himself and the Elder.

The Erlkin Warden had remained silent while he watched Tal, but now he was out of sight. The enchantment filled the room, showing Tal a vision of the outside world.

And it was a terrible one.

The vantage taken by the orb was from the very top of the barrier. When Tal looked down it was if he was standing on the soft light. When he glanced outwards, the illusion shifted and warped. The effect made his eyes water, but allowed him to see that much further.

Looking out however, he could only see devastation. Blasted land and bare rock. Splintered trees and scattered, bleached bones. Worse, he could see what looked like bodies, figures, watching the dome with hungry eyes.

"The danger outside has yet to pass," Darisen spoke, voice deep with gravitas, "and the shadow seeks to rejoin it's kin."

The sentinel replied quietly in Tal’s head, but this time it was unmistakable.

[And with that lie, he kills the chosen, and takes their lives for his own.]

End Chapter