Nyth’Aren, the Elven capital of Hegrines – High Elven, specifically. Most species coexisted in highly mixed communities all across the Auburia Evaries, at least in the time frame of this story. Elves however always preferred being on their own – oftentimes even separating themselves from their subspecies kin. The Haiara – or high elves – were the greatest xenophobes the continent had ever seen. They didn’t just dislike other species, they looked down upon them – considering themselves superior to anything else that even dared to walk upon the same earth as they did.

  According to a large variety of sources and institutes, the Haiara were the closest to what Evara – the ancient elves, in case you need to be reminded – were like. Highly skilled in a large variety of magic, many of them became powerful wizards or clerics. The greatest difference between them and the Evara was their lack of innate abilities and physical prowess – those had been taken by the other subspecies. Although Haiara could learn all kinds of magic, they were not born with any inherent power. Cindara could bend fire to their will from the very moment they could walk, Aqara could breath underwater and control the currents they rode on, while the Palara had a physicality that could rival most demigods. Haiara had to learn their craft, which only fuelled their disdain for everything else even more. They felt inadequate at times, and for them the easiest way to mask this feeling of inadequacy was by acting like they felt superior to everyone else.

  The entire Haiara culture was built around this feeling of superiority, from their architecture to their religion. They align themselves primarily with Alen, the “supreme” deity. The Church of Alen is their greatest source of political power. The Haiara used to be confined to their country of origin – Evorel – but with the Church as their blade they carved themselves a path throughout the continent. Now they had a foothold in nearly every part of the world. They had left Evorel behind them, infuriated with its academic magistocracy and lack of religious fervour. Hegrines was far from their main base, but it had a significant role with Nyth’Aren being their northernmost city. It also just so happened to be the city closest to Celestia, the barren wasteland to the south of Hegrines that held great significance for the Church.

  Now our five heroes stood in front of its magical barrier, and they all hesitated upon setting the first step across it.

  “The barrier cancels any enchantments cast upon any who cross it. At least, any that are weak enough to be influenced by its magic. Most embedded enchantments are safe, definitely the ones that come from a different plane altogether, so you should be safe, Aery. You however, Elion…” Aly pointed at Elion, who felt a heavy weight fall upon him as soon as he had seen the faint shimmer of the magical barrier. Even though it was the first time he was ever confronted by one, he knew the possibility. If the enchantment cast upon him by his father was not strong enough, all of his power would be unleashed at one. As a toddler, he had been strong enough to almost bring their entire house down upon them. As an adult… he could only imagine.

  Aly had told him stories of Artoris – a deity she seemingly knew a lot about – and his most powerful ability, the one he had inherited. The Tether was used to created order out of chaos, to shape the universe as they knew it. It had created their entire world, and had the power to destroy it just as easily. And with the possibility that besides this, he also held a power within him that came from Alen? If his limits were released suddenly and he couldn’t control himself… the consequences would be catastrophic.

  “I don’t think we can risk it,” he said. The others seemed surprised, but Aly merely nodded.

  “I agree. When you and Aery told us about everything that happened in the catacombs, I already suspected entering Nyth’Aren would be a problem. You stay here, maybe circumvent the city entirely. It should take you about a day to walk around, maybe two considering you would be avoiding guard patrols.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Aerean interjected. “Tallioth, Aly, and Randan can go into the city. Aly knows the lay of the land and Randan can transform himself into a Haiar. Tallioth stands out anywhere he goes, but if they get into trouble he can get them out the easiest.” Elion smiled at the sight of the determined look in her eyes. Aly only slightly rolled her eyes.

  “Sounds like a plan if ya ask me,” said Randan. “We’ll go into the city, gather some supplies, then meet ya on the other side. The main road to the east should be where we end up, so wait for us there if we take any longer than expected.”

  On that note, they all said their goodbyes and prepared to split-up. Aerean and Elion got most of the supplies, while Randan started reading up on Haiar biology. His shapeshifting was not an enchantment, considering he physically changed his anatomy – not magically. Aly had let her own enchantment far behind her, now appearing as her true Shadowkin self all the time. Elion could still see a glimmer of the magic at times, but even those became less prevalent as time went on.

  When everything was divided and all unnecessary enchantments were taken off, the three city-farers stepped through the magical barrier while Aerean and Elion started walking around it, heading south.

  ???

  Randan walked ahead of the others, his visage now one of a very prideful Haiar. For elves – who lived far longer than most other species – much of their honour came from the ancient bloodlines they could trace their own families back to. At the time the direct descendants of the three great houses – Zanderoth, Scalaris, and Phyra – were still the leaders of great Elven factions; however, very few actual Evara blood could be found flowing through their veins. In fact, there were far more pure-blooded descendants of those families to be found in other subspecies, but only the Haiara carried their family names around like a pedestal for them to stand on. Randan had specifically tailored his appearance to look like a possible descendant – recognisable by their brighter skin and rare eye-colours – but not too much, that way he would be respected but not admired. Randan had chosen bright orange for his eyes, pointing to a possible Scalaris descendance.

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  With Tallioth and Aly behind him – acting as his servants or guards, whatever the people around them considered more likely – Randan made his way through the main street of Nyth’Aren. They had a few things they needed, the main thing being weaponry. They had Tallioth, who really didn’t need any weapons, and both Aerean and Aly had functional weapons. Even Elion had his bow, but Randan didn’t have anything – and he felt it. Back in the arena, he had been a weapons expert. He had trained in using every single weapon available to him. Lately he had been relying on his physicality and shapeshifting, which worked on low-level threats but even he had his limits. With even something as simple as a sword he would be far happier.

  They also needed some more food, maybe some camping supplies. As they went further east, Elion’s ability to find hunting cabins became less and less accurate. Something about the signs being different here, maybe more up-to-date to current regulations than the outdated code Elion was taught. Either way, it would be nice if they could set up camp anywhere they wanted to. It would also reduce their risk of being caught.

  Aly directed the three of them towards the nearest blacksmith, a nice family-owned business that she apparently had some connections with; the Blunt Goose.

  As they walked in, Randan found himself face-to-face with what was quite possibly the biggest man he had ever seen. A pale-elf – or Palar – the size of Tallioth with a bald head – a rarity amongst elves – and a large hammer in hand.

  “I work only on commission, Lord Scalarian, and I do not know you,” he said, his voice stern but respectful. Disrespecting a lord descendant – be they Scalarian, Phyran, or Zanderothi – could be grounds for execution. However, Gilith of the Blunt Goose forge was well-respected in the community by commoners and lords alike. He would get away with denying whatever request this unknown lord had, as long as he didn’t openly disrespect him. Before Randan managed to stammer through his first syllable, Aly had already shoved him aside.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Gil. All grown-up I see? Finally got your mother to give the store to you? What did that take?” she said. Gilith looked up from his work, a smile quickly appearing on his face before it faded again just as quickly.

  “She died. And you weren’t here Al.” Aly was silent for a bit.

  “I know,” she said – her voice soft. “I had to leave. With Octari on my heels I couldn’t stay, you know what he’s like.” Gilith smashed his hammer down onto his anvil before standing up slowly.

  “Oh I know what he’s like Al! And I know he was on your damn heels! He interrogated and bloody executed my mother for harbouring a fugitive after you left!” Al took a step back as he walked up to her, a thick finger pointed at her face.

  “You got out and left her to deal with the consequences! You left us! You left her, you left the forge… you left me without anyone! And now you have the guts to come back here with a fucking Scalarian?” Randan immediately turned back into himself, just as Tallioth stepped in between Aly and Gilith to try and defuse the situation.

  “No, Tallioth, get back,” Aly said as she got back in Gilith’s face. “Listen, Gil, I’m so sorry. He would’ve killed me if I had stayed – all of us, if he knew you had been just as responsible for keeping my stay under your roof a secret. Your mother knew the risks, she packed my bags herself. If you’re still alive, that means that she knew what was coming and minimised the amount of casualties – something that would have been impossible had I been caught. Your mother was strong – much stronger than me – she was able to keep the information from Octari, something that I could never do.”

  Gilith’s expression changed, his upper lip quivering and his stature almost physically shrinking. In front of the girl they had once taken into their home – the one who had been like an older sister to him – he felt like the boy he used to be back then. The innocent blacksmith’s apprentice who wanted nothing more than to impress his mother. Looking into Aly’s eyes, he broke.

  Sobbing with thick, heavy tears, he fell into Aly’s arms. Aly managed to remain strong, even though she could feel the tears well up in her eyes.

  A few – for Randan and Tallioth very awkward – minutes later, Gilith was giving them a tour around the new and improved Blunt Goose forge. He eventually led them upstairs, where they could stay for a night. Randan described the weapons he wanted Gilith to make, and Gilith promised him they would be done by morning. Until then, it would be best for them to stay in their room – Gilith said – so as to not draw too much attention to themselves. Octari’s reach grew far and wide nowadays, he explained, and if news of their arrival reached one of his many eyes or ears it would only be a matter of time until Gilith got audited.

  History – as it turns out – is forever doomed to repeat itself.