Eden

Dexian set down Eden and Sael on the library floor. Frintak set Azrael down next to him and positioned himself at the base of the stairwell in a stance that betrayed a working knowledge of martial arts. He would wait for the raven to pursue them, it seemed.

She wiped the tears from her face and turned to Azrael, who was white as a sheet. His eyes were closed but he seemed to be breathing, so she thanked Titania for that.

What happened? What did the bird do to him? It had only been a scant few moments, but it seemed that Azrael was making a quick recovery; some color was returning to his face.

“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Sael asked, her voice hollow. Eden shook her head. “People go their whole lives without a single divine encounter, and then this happens. Is this what dealing with gods is like? Terror?”

“Not necessarily.” Eden said, putting her hand on Azrael’s forehead, more out of concern than medical practice. He was burning up. “In the twilightlands, you can see Titania from a distance, if you approached her estate, but she doesn’t mess with you if you don’t mess with her. Knocking on her front door would initiate standard fae decorum, and one must of course be wary of fae, and even more so with the Queen, but unless decorum is initiated, she’s the kind of god that is content to leave you alone.”

“‘Knocking on her front door’? Eden, I feel like that’s what we just did with the raven. Technically we were in territory reserved specifically for him.”

“I doubt it.” Eden responded, getting more of a handle on her emotions. She could see her hands turning light orange, and her hair making the crackling sound of dry leaves. Autumn. The season of harvest and solidarity. “The priest wouldn’t have let us up here in the first place if he saw that as an issue. He was concerned with one of the ravens being offended that its roost was occupied by mortals, and then cursing the priest for it. He didn’t feel like the raven would actually engage us.”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“I’m pretty sure I am. I mean, for sure, I was terrified when it happened, and I’m definitely shaken up right now, but think about it: the raven never even moved from its spot. And if it intended to kill us, it probably would have. Just the idea of us needing to leave and Azrael getting rooted to the spot like that… I did think the worst would happen.”

“How is he?” Sael asked Eden, as if Eden had some sort of medical training.

“He’s…” Eden glanced down for emphasis, “...pale.”

“Ha-ha.”

Azrael stirred, and both women leaned in to get a better look. He groggily opened up his eyes. “Am I dead?” he asked.

“Really?” Sael chastised, “That’s what you’re going with? The ‘I thought I woke up in Paradise’ joke?”

“No.” he muttered, “Waking up to see your faces, I knew I had to be in one of the hells, for sure.” The anakim both chuckled nervously from their positions.

“I don’t think it’s choosing to pursue us.” Frintak stated, slowly relaxing. Dexian shook his head and said,

“Two more minutes, then we descend to the bottom floor. We need intel, though. I’m not walking outside with the possibility that St. Bird can swoop down on me.”

“Agreed.”

“How long was I out?” Azrael asked.

“No more than a few minutes.” Eden replied. “It paralyzed you and I thought we were done for.”

“Is that what happened?” Azrael frowned.

“Do you not remember?” Sael interrupted. He shook his head.

“I guess not. Or, at least that’s not what I remember. I-”

“Not what you remember?” Sael asked, “What do you mean?” Eden noticed that the anakim were listening intently.

“I mean we were laying down and talking, and I heard Huginn land--you know, a fluttering sound--and-”

Sael interrupted again. “I didn’t hear anything. Did any of you?” She looked around. The anakim shook their heads and Eden followed suit.

“‘Huginn’.” Eden repeated. “You know its name?”

“Yeah, she told me.” He rubbed his forehead. “Anyway, I turned to look and there she was. She looked at me and there was some sort of vision. I think she said something important, but I can’t quite… I don’t really remember what. But I remember the vision, clear as day.”

“What was it?” Eden pressed.

“I am walking in a sewer of grey stone. I hear multiple sets of footsteps behind me, but for some reason I’m not worried about it. What I am concerned with in this vision is a pool of blood on the floor, a small pond of crimson pouring forth from a broken flask, and a clawed hand covered in red scales reaches up out of the blood, like the blood is some kind of doorway. That’s it.”

Dexian turned and said, “It’s time. Let’s move down. Frintak, you up front, Sael, behind him, Eden, in the middle, Azrael, in front of me.” Eden stood up, a little shaky, helped Azrael up, and got in line.

They proceeded down the stairs, but nothing seemed amiss. There were a few more worshippers in the sanctuary, and the priest was still at the statue of Odin, praying. He turned, saw them, smiled, and turned back to the statue and continued praying.

“I don’t think anyone knows what happened.” Eden mused, her brow furrowed.

“Do you think we should tell anyone?” Sael asked.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like doing anything but going home.” Azrael complained.

“We probably should.” Dexian chimed in, “It’s not every day the divine interacts with someone, let alone someone who isn’t a follower of their particular pantheon.”

“And it is the priest’s business.” Frintak stated plainly. “After all, it is related to the god he worships at his own temple.”

“Guys, no one asked you!” Sael scolded.

“Eden literally just did.” Dexian pointed out.

“I pay you to protect me, not to weigh in on my friend’s decisions!”

“Your father pays us to make sure you stay out of trouble, and angering a god spells trouble for you.”

“Having a priest angry with me is getting in trouble too, Dexian.”

Azrael suddenly slumped over and Dexian caught him. Eden made her decision.

“That’s it, we’re going home. Dexian, Frintak, can one of you help me get Azrael to his house?”

“I’m fine.” Azrael protested a little too softly for Eden’s comfort. “I’m just really sore.”

“I’ll take him.” Frintak offered. “Dexian, would you mind?”

“Not at all. But if we walk out that door and we even see a glimpse of that raven, we’re going right back inside to tell that priest what’s going on.” Frintak took Azrael from Dexian and slung him over his shoulder. The group walked to the door and no one even looked up.

***

“What in hellfire…?” Dexian exclaimed. Eden echoed his thoughts as she went through the door. It was nighttime. When they went in, the sun wasn’t even close to setting! Her skin and clothing started to turn blue. Winter, the season of conservation and general unhappiness. She couldn’t believe it. They hadn’t even been in the temple an hour, let alone, hours. She was beginning to fear that they had royally messed up, somehow.

“I don’t see any birds on the roof or towers.” Frintak observed. “We need to move.” Eden was all too happy to leave. They bid farewell to Dexian and Sael. Eden and Frintak (with Azrael slung over his broad shoulder) made their way through the city, looking over their shoulder, hoping not to see a giant crow in the lamplight of the city. One of the perks of living in a city made of white stone is that the lamplight was enhanced somewhat, as the white stone did a better job reflecting the light than normal stone would. Or at least that’s how it was explained to her when she first moved to Almaz.

Azrael fell asleep while being carried. Or, at least, Eden hoped he went to sleep. Frintak assured her he was still breathing, but people didn’t just pass out like that. What if his condition was more than just exhaustion? What if it was magical in nature? Her hair, which had finally turned orange, started to frost over again.

They made their way to the opposite side of the city, where she knew Azrael’s house was. She regarded how nice the houses were in this section of town. Azrael made a good bit of coin. Not that her part of town was bad, but he had a house and she roomed at the inn where she worked. She bet Azrael didn’t ever come home to strange people passed out on the bed because they drunkenly stumbled into the wrong room.

This section of houses were all single-family dwellings, all built out of the same white stone she saw everywhere else, but these houses were rank and file. She bet the sanitation department liked the days they were assigned over here.

When they reached Azrael’s house, they couldn’t rouse him to tell them where he hid the house key.

“Do you want me to give the door some persuasion?” Frintak asked, sincere in his offer.

“No, I’ve got it handled.” Eden sighed and glanced at her hands. Still blue. She was concerned that Azrael wasn’t waking up. Eden closed her eyes and thought about Poseidon’s Parlor, about leading the patrons in drunken song and playing the flute by the fireside while business was slow. She could feel herself defrosting and the familiar rustle of healthy leaves sounded by her ears. Spring. The season of contentment and joy.

She opened her eyes and squared herself with the front window, looking in at the coffee table. Focus. There was a small pop and suddenly she was standing on the coffee table. Oops. She meant to teleport in front of the table. Fortunately the coffee table was wood and not glass. She stepped off the table, approached the door, and unlocked it from the inside. An incredulous-looking Frintak stooped through the doorway and made his way to the couch.

“Didn’t know elves could do that.” Frintak said, appreciatively.

“They can’t. Well, they used to be able to. A long time ago. The forest elves were the last to lose that ability.”

“You’re not a forest elf? You’ve got the whole nature thing going for you.” He dropped Azrael unceremoniously onto the couch.

“No, I’m an alder elf. Or an elder elf. My kind has been called both, though where I’m from, we’re just called elves. We’re something that just doesn’t live in this world as a people, anymore.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “The ones that were here followed other gods. The high elves followed their gods of magic, and the forest elves engaged in some form of ancestor worship. I’m not sure if it was the worship that did it, or just living in another place for so long, but, eventually, they lost what made them like me, and gained traits that made them unique.”

“You sound sad about that.” The anakim observed.

“I am. I don’t know whether it’s bad or good that elves in this world are as they are. I just know that it’s sad to watch a world move on and not recognize you.”

“How old are you?”

Eden laughed. “Incredibly young. I’m twenty-seven.”

Frintak frowned. “Why are you talking like you’re old, then?”

“Because my society is old. Let me phrase it for you differently, in the form of a short story. Do you have time for a story?”

“Let us do it on the walk back to the center of town, where we will part ways.”

Eden nodded. “Agreed.” They walked out the door and shut it behind them. The streets were emptying rapidly. It must have gotten quite late in the evening.

“So, I’m in my late twenties, which is hysterically young for an elf. From what I understand, elves here, in this world, are much the same: we don’t usually even think about leaving home until we’re about seventy-five or so.”

“That seems unnecessary.” Frintak stated.

“Am I right in assuming you’re an anakim? One of the lesser giants?” Eden asked. Frintak nodded. “How long does your species typically live?”

“About a hundred years, maybe a little older than humans, who generally land in the area of eighty years.”

“And what age do you strike out on your own?”

“Twenty.” They passed two guards walking the opposite way.

Eden thought for a moment. “So you mean to say that anakim generally spend one-fifth of their lives under the roof of their parents’ dwelling? Am I understanding that right?” Frintak gave a terse mm-hm. “Okay, so my species lives for approximately two-thousand years- about double what the elves of this world live. So, avoiding doing a bunch of mathematics, here, me leaving home at seventy-five would be the equivalent to you leaving home at age five.”

The anakim didn’t disguise his shock. “What? Truly?”

“Yes, my dear Frintak. I am almost two years old in anakim years. A toddler of an elf.”

“I didn’t realize.” he said as they turned a corner.

“I know. I try not to broadcast it. People give you more respect if they assume you’re a couple-hundred years old, and, Frintak, they all assume that. To a one.”

“I did, too.” He admitted.

“And that’s quite alright. It means you treated me as a person and not as someone who can’t take care of themselves. Anyway, back to the story.”

“You hadn’t even started.” he grunted. She ignored him.

“So, when I turned twenty-one, my parents took me to Titania’s court.”

“You mentioned Titania earlier. You said she’s a god?”

“Yes, the god I worship. She’s the Queen of the Seelie, in the Twilightlands, where I’m from.”

“You said that, earlier, too. I thought that’s where the child-snatching fairies live.”

“Only if they or their parents make poor decisions. Also, ouch, technically I’m fae, too.”

He stumbled as they stepped off of the curb to cross the street. “I thought you were an elf.”

“I am, but I’m also a member of the original species, and the elves originally hail from the twilightlands. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the story.”

“Back to the story.” Frintak agreed.

“So I turn 21 and my parents brought me to Titania’s court so I could receive her blessing. So we get there and we all exchange greetings, and Titania welcomes us-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Frintak interrupted. “You mean to say that the god of the twilightlands just accepts visitors? And talks to them?”

“Well yes, that is the way Titania, a god,” she emphasized “a”, “operates in her home realm. Being fae, even one so old as her, requires communication. You know, so we can baby-snatch.”

“She’s fae? But she’s also a god?”

“Frintak, does your species have a native god?”

“Native?”

“One particular to anakim.”

“Oh, that’s easy, that’s Anak, our namesake.”

“And is Anak considered a giant? Or is ‘diety’ its own species?”

“I suppose he’s considered a giant.”

“And so Titania is considered fae. So… back to the story?”

Frintak nodded vigorously. “Back to the story.”

“So Titania welcomes us, and we engage in formalities. Unfortunately, my mother was accidentally discourteous during the discussion, and being discourteous to fae is a dangerous thing; exponentially so when it’s a fae god. Fortunately, it was a minor discourtesy, but it was discourtesy nonetheless. Tell me, Frintak, what happens when someone is discourteous to fae during conversation?”

“They… take your… children?”

“Yes, they take your children to the twilightlands. We were already in the twilightlands, so the other solution was to take me away to this world. She told me that I would be able to return to the twilightlands and resume the life I had if I can present to her a story, but specifically one of heartbreak and victory, one of sadness, but one with a good ending, and it has to be good enough to entertain even the likes of her. I’ve thought about it a while, and knowing Titania, she probably gave me that description assuming that I would fail, and it’s entirely possible that I will- after all, what story could I possibly tell that would impress a god? So here I am, in a culturally diverse city waiting tables at an inn, listening to travellers tell their tales in hopes that I might learn better stories and how to tell them.

"But before she left, she brought me before a group of elves. They didn’t know we were there, but she said to me before leaving, ‘Look at them. These are elves as this world knows them. Once upon a time their kind was one with your kind, and you all shifted like seasons, expressing the truth of your souls to one another as you do in our lands. Now, truly look at them. They have changed. If you look for kinship among the elves of this world, you will find yourself as alone as a human in our world. These elves will not understand you.’ And she left.

“Naturally, the first thing I did was try to integrate myself with them, but I was just so very different. The references I made, the euphemisms I used, the interests I expressed were all lost on them. They truly were not like me in any way. They were taller than me and their ears much shorter. To them, I appeared as some sort of caricature, but I’m the way they used to be, and they have… left me behind.”

“And they, at one time, could… change colors and… teleport?” Frintak asked. Eden sighed.

“Something like that.”

“Titania doesn’t sound like a god worthy of worship.” Frintak offered, helpfully. She chuckled in response.

“Well, she’s not very different than many other fae, myself included. Sometimes they do mean things to get a point across. In the twilightlands, nothing is ever black and white, so you really have to work on being considerate of others. It’s why being polite is a must with any given fae you meet. They only expect from others what they require of themselves. So, if I overcome this trial and am allowed back into the twilightlands, I won’t ever forget what happened to my mother when she was rude, and I won’t forget that such rudeness cost other people that weren’t involved, namely myself. It’s quite clever, when you think about it. And I guarantee you my mother won’t forget her manners again.”

“It makes my head hurt.” he muttered.

“So, I try to be considerate of Titania’s decision and her status as a god. Also, I want to get home and see my family. As for the teleportation, I can only do it every so often.”

“You’d be quite the thief, otherwise.”

“That’d be a nice tale to tell, one of heists and conflicts with the law. But since I am able to teleport at all, I imagine that’d be too easy a profession for me to get into, and so not a tale worthy of Titania.”

“That makes sense.” They both stopped. They had arrived at the parting of ways. “Eden, I am glad to have had a conversation with you.”

“May we have many more, my muscular friend. If ever you’re near Poseidon’s Parlor and you have some free time on your hands, come in and have a drink.”

Eden shook his hand and turned to head to the Parlor.