Other

Kris looked up at the night sky, the moon being obscured by dark, angry clouds. The woods were suspiciously quiet, and Kris had learned that the animals of this world knew far more than humans gave them credit for.

Something was here. Something that should never have come here.

Kris frowned, moving towards the eerie feeling. The night was humid; a rainstorm was approaching and would flood the marshlands for a time. But the rain was the last thing on his mind. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right. Something was here.

The feeling niggled at him again and again, until it ultimately drove Kris towards Low Tide Beach. Kris’ mismatched eyes narrowed and he stepped onto the soft, warm sand. A current of something shocking and heated shot through him and Kris’ steps stilled.

“Magic…” he frowned, moving down the beach.

~*~*~*~

Nero held the knife in a shaking fist as he pointed at the creature before him.

Emela’s eyes filled with pain and she took another step forwards. “Nero, my treasure,” she said, though her mouth never moved.

Nero jumped, not knowing what to do in that moment. He was beyond freaked out. Ghosts he could handle, an Elf—a bit unbelievable, but sure—his mother turning into some kind of freaky, scaly demon psychic siren thing right before his eyes was the straw that broke the camel’s back. His mom had been the standard of normalcy in his life, and this…this was anything but normal.

“What are you?! Where’s my mom?!” Nero ordered, staggering back from the creature.

“Nero, my young one, calm down. It is me.” A sweet voice rang through his head like a song, unfamiliar but familiar, much like the figure in front of him. “I’m right here,” Emela said, biting her lip. “I’ve always been right here. Using my powers shattered the glamour I’ve put upon myself. You fear, only because you can See me now.”

“Y-you’re not my mom,” Nero said, his voice quivering. This was too much. A glamour? Like a spell? Since when could his mom cast spells and have glowing hands and—and—Jesus Christ!

“Nero, calm down baby. I am your mother.” Emela assured the boy as she stepped closer. “I’ve had to hide what I was from you for your protection.” Her eyes flicked down to the blade in Nero’s hands and she put her hands on her rounded hips in the way that Nero was so familiar with. “Now cease this foolishness and put my YoshiBlade down, you know that’s my favorite knife.”

Nero felt himself being lulled by that voice, and the knife lowered, just a bit. He shook his head, raising the weapon again. “No. You tell me what you are right now.” Nero barely registered the Elf to the left of him—the male had passed out. 

“After you put down the knife and come to me, my baby.” Emela said, her voice crashing over Nero like waves of warm water. Nero found himself dropping the sharp white blade and moving into Emela’s open arms. She smelled the same, like the sea and warm spice and sweet grass. Emela wrapped her arms around her son’s body and sighed as warm, crystalline tears slipped from her large, almond shaped eyes and down her rounded cheeks. “I’m so sorry, my boy. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

Nero couldn’t reply; he could only stand there and wish that he could be there in Emela’s arms forever. It was a peculiar feeling, but not completely unwelcome. “I know you have questions. I know they plague you, but I cannot give you the answers you seek right now, baby. I can only tell you that I am one of the last of my kind.”

~*~*~*~

Kris moved down the beach, following the ripple of old magic. Something had come through here, something from the Dark. He frowned; nothing should’ve been able to get to the World Above.

Something dark and metallic glinted in the sand dunes a ways down, and Kris’ keen eyes caught sight of it.

“What is that?” The young man frowned, as he moved down the beach. Stooping and picking up the piece of shattered armor, he turned the sandy, bloodstained scale over in his hands.

There was no doubt—this was Elfin armor, from the House of S’viala. Kris’ brow furrowed. But where was the Elf that this armor came from?

~*~*~*~

As Emela stopped talking, Nero felt the strange lethargy lift from him. He stepped back, pushing the woman away from him.

What is this? Is this some crazy dream? Nero thought desperately to himself as he stared at the woman before him in disbelief. A dream was the only explanation he had for the madness in his life at the moment. His eyes darted over to the Elf and then back to his mother, and Nero assured himself that this was all some strange, fucked up dream.

Any moment now, Kris will be coming in and pouncing on my bed to wake me up for class, Nero assured himself.

“I’m afraid this isn’t a dream, Nero. And we must figure out what to do about this Elf you brought home,” Emela said, turning to look back at the passed out beauty with a frown on her face. “Would you like to tell me how you came across the Prince of the Elves?”

~*~*~*~

Kris headed further down the beach, staring down at the bloody drag marks on the ground. They stopped at another dune where another pair of footprints appeared. Kris’ eyes tracked the prints as he walked beside them, up towards the entrance to the beach…through the sand collected there…to a set of golf cart prints.

Kris frowned, looking around the woods. The only houses this near to the beach on this part of the island were—

“Shit!” Kris cursed, kicking at the ground, before taking off towards his home.

Everything he’d worked for all this time would be ruined if Nero found that wounded warrior. All his and Emela’s efforts to protect the boy would be jeopardized by this. Kris really hoped that Nero hadn’t done anything stupid.