Abby was miserable, and she knew she deserved it.

Looking around, she barely noticed the paradise surrounding her. She hardly saw the majestic trees, their branches all growing together to produce seamless bridges between the homes of her hosts. Nor did she care to study those dwellings, which stood in the crowns of those trees, looking more like they’d been grown than built. With their graceful arches, supported by a latticework of patterned branches that looked like nothing so much as natural lace, the elven city of Kel’janik was, without a doubt, the most beautiful and tranquil place she’d ever set foot.

Or it would have been so if it weren’t for the elves themselves.

As the lone human in the entire city, Abby had begun her stay as something of a curiosity, but that had quickly turned to disdain when the elves realized that she was inferior to them in almost every way. Certainly, she had their goddess’ blessing, which was the only reason she’d been allowed anywhere near Kel’janik. And she’d been awarded a fantastic class, {Elemental Archer}, but the elves were, one and all, stronger, more beautiful, and far more skilled than she could ever hope to be.

But that wasn’t the reason for her misery. Before, when Abby had made her choice to try to kill Micayne, she’d known that she was driving a spike through her relationship with Zeke. And after, he’d made his feelings absolutely clear. However, Abby had hoped that, someday, they could mend the scattered pieces into something resembling what it had once been. After all, Abby knew that, courtesy of their high vitality, they would live for centuries. After a few years – or a couple of decades – the sting of her decision would have faded, letting the love they shared take root. Soon enough, it would blossom.

That hope had been dashed the moment Abby felt the connection between them, which was the result of [Mark of Companionship], sever. At first, she’d thought that the worst had happened, that Zeke had finally picked a fight with something he couldn’t defeat. In those brief moments, she’d been overwhelmed with despair.

But no. Zeke was too strong for that. She knew it in her heart. He might have been beaten; that wasn’t so unbelievable, after the strength she’d seen from the elves. Even the civilians put pressure on her soul, so it wasn’t unimaginable that Zeke might have run into something more powerful than him. But he, first and foremost, a survivor. Beaten or not, he wouldn’t have been killed so quickly after ascension.

Which told her that he’d cancelled the skill himself, telling Abby just how he felt. She’d gotten an inkling of just how big their new world was, and she knew that, without that connection, the likelihood that they’d ever see one another again was infinitesimally small.

Thus, her depression.

“Ska’tu,” came an arrogant voice from behind her. Abby turned from where she’d been sitting on the edge of one of the city’s platforms. There were hundreds scattered throughout the trees of the Ra’Aja Forest, each supporting a gracefully constructed home, magnificent palace, or artisans’ workshop, the most mundane of which were still impressive in terms of architecture.

“What?” she asked, turning to face the man who’d called her name. Ska’tu. Ugly Child, in their ancient language. Unlike most other species who, according to the elves, had lost their connections to their history, the elves often used the language of their home world, as opposed to the one foisted upon everyone by the Framework. The name itself was yet another facet of her misery, but looking at the elf who’d addressed her, she couldn’t dispute its veracity.

If Abby hadn’t already seen hundreds of other elves, Kan’tel Vamakar – or Kan, for short – would have been the most gorgeous creature she’d ever laid eyes upon. Everything about him was perfect – from his lithe, athletic figure to his perfectly symmetrical, slightly effeminate features – he seemed more like an untouchable ideal than an actual person. That was heightened by his sharply tapered ears, eyes that looked more like they belonged to a cat than a human, and, more than anything else, the otherworldly aura that he wore like a cloak.

But it was all done in by his haughty, arrogant personality. Elves, either because of their isolationist culture or some quirk of their genome, were incredibly intolerant, and they looked at anyone who wasn’t an elf as beasts. No – less than beasts. Animals, they looked upon with respect. Other sapient creatures, though? Having met some of them, Abby thought the very concept was laughable, and she expected that they would have thought the same thing.

“High Priestess Malara wishes to speak to you,” Kan sneered, looking down on Abby with obvious disdain. He clearly resented the fact that he had been tasked as her guide, and he rarely let her forget it. “Come, Ska’tu.”

In the past, Abby would have gotten angry over the insulting name she’d been given. However, she knew just how futile that sort of thing would be. If she argued or railed against the name, things would only get worse. If Abby thought she would be allowed to leave, she would have long since departed from the elven city to take her chances in the wild. Certainly, she probably would have died – there were fearsome creatures out there – but at least she wouldn’t have had to put up with insults.

However, the so-called High Priestess of the Temple of Aja had made it clear that if she tried to escape, one of the elven hunting parties would be dispatched to bring her back. After all, their goddess had made it clear that Abby was important. The tree goddess hadn’t given them any more information, but she hadn’t needed to, either. The elves were nothing if not fanatical in their devotion, after all.

Abby pushed herself to her feet, enjoying the fact that she was a few inches taller than the elf. But then she remembered that size meant almost nothing; Kan was level fifty-two, and if he desired, he could easily twist her into knots. Even Zeke would have had difficulty against those sorts of odds.

“Come,” Kan said. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away. His graceful gait took him across the platform and to one of the bridges. Abby hurried to follow, her long legs eating the distance until she was only a few feet behind him. The bridge itself looked delicate, with its lacy tapestry of branches; however, it was sturdier than steel and supported their meager weight without a hint of difficulty. And soon, the pair crossed the span to another platform. Then another. And another after that.

They traveled for almost a mile across the interconnected platforms and bridges until, finally, they reached a much larger platform than any that had come before. In addition to its size, this platform also featured a host of stalls manned by enterprising elven merchants who were selling various goods to other sapient creatures who made the forest their home.

Abby saw short gnomes with skin that looked like wood, beastkin of all shapes and sizes, and a few elves that were much taller than the residents of the city. In the time since she’d ascended, Abby had learned that the elven population was anything but monolithic. In fact, there were almost a dozen different ethnicities, ranging from the wood elves that were her hosts to the high elves that lived in a grand city nearby. There were dark elves, cave elves, and even a race of half-elf dryads that she’d heard of only in passing. The other variations were less clear, made even more so by the disdain with which she was regarded and the elves taciturn nature.

But Kan paid no attention to the various merchants or shoppers, not breaking stride as he led Abby to their true destination – the stairs contained within the hollow trunk of the massive tree. As far as Abby knew, those stairs represented the only easy route to the forest floor. As she followed Kan down the spiraling steps, she noticed the floating globes which provided the soft illumination for the interior of the tree. To date, she’d yet to figure out they worked because, as far as Abby could tell, they weren’t mana-based like so many of the lights she’d seen in the Radiant Isles.

Their pace slowed as they joined a sparse flow of traffic that led them down to the base of the tree, where they exited into the forest itself. Aside from the perpetual gloom of being beneath such a dense canopy, it looked much like any other forest. Except it wasn’t. Subtle hints lay in every direction. None were overwhelmingly obvious, and taken individually, they didn’t mean much. But together? The forest was oppressively perfect, almost as if it had been groomed, as opposed to being allowed to grow free and wild.

That was the elves’ influence. They revered nature, but they also wanted to tame it. To curate it. To control it. Because that was their nature. It wasn’t as obvious as some of the more blatant forms of corruption, but it was still a perversion of the natural order of things, and Abby suspected that beneath the perfectly placed trees, bushes, rocks, and lesser animals, there was a hidden, much darker side.

She felt a shiver run up her spine, but she didn’t allow for any outward emotions. The elves were proud of their forest, and anyone who didn’t look on it with appropriate awe was looked upon with suspicion and outright hostility. And given Abby’s precarious position, she couldn’t afford to fall any further down the social hierarchy.

Kan didn’t slow his pace as he led Abby deeper into the forest. If she hadn’t already known where they were headed, she might have been afraid. But as a guest of the tree goddess, she was protected even if she hadn’t been accepted.

Finally, after twenty minutes of walking through the forest, they reached their ultimate destination.

It was a small pond, perfectly symmetrical and surrounded by carved menhirs made of some quartz-like material. It shimmered in the scant light, pulsing with the familiar power of Aja, the tree goddess who’d derailed so many of Abby’s plans. It had been necessary; Abby was still convinced of that much. But she still wished – fervently – that the burden of instigating the attack on Micayne had fallen to someone else. But Aja had chosen her, and she hadn’t shied away from that responsibility.

In the center of the pool, sitting upon a giant lily pad, was another elf. Unlike the rest of the population of wood elves, she was ancient. Her hair was stark white, her face was lined with wrinkles, and her body looked frail. Over her crossed legs was a staff of gnarled wood – a relic that had been passed down from one High Priestess to the next for thousands of years – that was said to have come from the body of the tree goddess herself. Abby could believe that, given that, even from more than a hundred feet away, she could feel the power radiating from that seemingly innocuous branch.

Abby stepped forward and bowed toward the ancient wood elf, and she didn’t straighten back to her full height until she heard a soft voice say, “Relax, child. I do not stand on ceremony. Kan’tel, you may leave us.”

When Abby rose, she saw that the high priestess was standing only a few feet away, her back bent as she used that gnarled staff as a mundane walking stick. It could have easily been mistaken for a normal scene, if it weren’t for the fact that the elven woman was standing on top of the pond.

With anyone else, Kan would have likely argued at the frank dismissal, but the high priestess held the highest position on the elven social ladder. She was a combination of queen and spiritual leader, and no elf would ever dream of disobeying. So, it was only a second before Kan’tel had turned and strode away, leaving Abby alone with the priestess.

The ancient woman stepped onto solid ground between two of the quartz-like menhirs; they shimmered as she drew near, and Abby felt a cold shiver travel up her spine when the ancient elf looked upon her.

“How are you finding our hospitality, child?” asked the elf, her voice strangely accented.

“I…I am grateful, your grace,” Abby said, keeping her voice even.

The high priestess laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, before she said, “Oh, that is diplomatic. My people, they have grown arrogant over the years. Some of that arrogance is earned; some is not. But such a situation can not be comfortable for an outsider.”

Abby nodded, then asked, “Why did you wish to see me, your grace?”

“Perhaps I merely enjoy your company?”

Abby couldn’t keep an expression of disbelief from briefly crossing her face, and the high priestess laughed once again. She said, “Perhaps not. My goddess, may she forever shelter us beneath her boughs, has made a decision concerning your fate.”

“W-what?”

Abby felt panic rising in her heart. She knew good and well that she’d only been tolerated thus far because of Aja’s support. Without it, the elves would eat her alive.

“You will leave the forest,” the high priestess stated.

“But it’s –”

“Dangerous, yes,” was the elf’s response. “That is why you will not go alone.”

Then, another voice joined the conversation, saying, “You will accompany me, acolyte.”

Abby whipped her head around to see a man standing at attention next to one of the menhirs. He was dressed in elaborate white armor trimmed in gold, with the hilt of a huge greatsword standing over one of his shoulders. His eyes danced with a familiar flame.

“Her radiance, Shar Maelaine, has agreed to take you on,” the man stated. He was handsome, with a strong jaw, aquiline nose, and heavy brows, making him look like a perfect representation of the noble knight. But Abby didn’t care about any of that. Instead, she only heard the name of the goddess he represented.

“The Sun Goddess?” Abby muttered.

“Indeed,” the knight said. “You made a deal with her disciple before your ascension. That deal has been passed on to the goddess herself, and I am here to collect.”

“What does that mean?” asked Abby, summoning her strength. The knight didn’t give off the same overwhelming pressure as the elven high priestess, but it was still suffocating being in his presence.

“It means that you will be coming with me,” the knight said with a smile.

“Where?”

“To the Citadel of Boundless Light,” he said. “And there, you will be trained to join the Golden Legion as a heroic knight in service of her radiance, Shar Maelaine. Now, come. We have a long journey ahead of us. I will answer any other questions you might have along the way.”

“But my things…”

Abby didn’t have much, but what she did have was nestled in the tiny room she’d been assigned as her sleeping quarters. Just then, a new elf appeared out of nowhere; he was holding a satchel and Abby’s bow. Without a word, he dropped them at Abby’s feet, then turned and ran away, his presence disappearing after only a couple of steps.

“Oh,” she said, picking her things up. The way she saw it, she didn’t really have much of a choice but to go with the knight. If she resisted, she had no doubt that he would simply force her to come along.

“Go, child,” the high priestess said. “Aja has not betrayed you. She simply realized, in her infinite wisdom, that you belong among your own kind. However, in her boundless benevolence, she has made certain that you will be well treated. Trust in her sheltering boughs.”

Abby shook her head. Aja’s reassurances weren’t as comforting as the high priestess wanted to pretend they were. But as Abby had already surmised, she didn’t really have a choice. She couldn’t resist the whims of a goddess, nor the commands of her chosen champion.

“Fine,” Abby said, hefting her satchel onto her shoulder and gripping her bow with her other hand. “Let’s go, then.”