The color of Divinity II - The truth of Legends

The color of Divinity
By Ellnyon

Notes: First of all, sorry for the late chapter. I was studying for my graduation exams in September. I really had to focus ‘cause they’re really hard and I had already failed them before so I couldn’t update during that time. Also, after that, I was really tired and took some days to recover, so I’m sorry to have made you wait a long time yet again. On another side note, some time ago, I read a comment about fiction writers that made me really sad. And more than saying anything else, I’d like to show my appreciation to all of you readers who haven’t given up on my story (and hopefully will keep following it until it ends). I’m doing my best and I will always try to do better for you. Still, forgive me if you feel like I let you down, most of the times on various aspects. Of course particular words of gratitude go to those who take the time to rate and review my stories. Without you I wouldn’t have gotten this far. Really, THANK YOU!


Part II
Chapter 5


The seven men rode fast and agile across one of the many verdant forests existing in the Southwest of N’Alaera. The aged trees, with their roots, and the many bushes near the grassy ground, made their path a difficult one, but the riders didn’t even notice that, for they had no time to waste. They were journeying with a purpose and the sooner their hearts were put at ease, the better.

The landscape of the two bordering countries didn’t differ much from one side to the other in that region. Even the large forest the riders were in was the same, the small river crossing it serving as a dividing line and merely a formality to define Meya and N’Alaera’s territories. Still, the seven men couldn’t have known it yet, but at that moment, that small stream made all the difference.

Beyond the outline of these forests, vast cultivated plains covered a large expanse of land. The farms were many and also fairly common in both countries, especially there, in the south, where the influence of the big cities to the north wasn’t that great. The slight variation was noticed in the way they were kept and built.

Eths were, by far, a lot more organized in their fields and territory planning than the humans. But that was probably due to the fact the south in Meya was controlled by the Erephine noble family, who lived there instead of near the Capitol to the north.

On the contrary, N’Alaera’s nobility was all concentrated in the north of the country, especially now with a war going on outside the Sacred Wall. As such, nobody but the central government really did something for the territories and commoners located farther to the south.

Just in the last ten years, N’Alaera’s royal family had much more to do than control the farmers and the way they grew their crops. It was enough of a luxury the people had the means to plant their fields with the misery the war had brought.

The farms were interrupted here and there by small towns in both countries. These towns were richer and bigger in Meya’s part but they still couldn’t even begin to compare with big cities like N’Alaera’s capitol. Nonetheless, those towns, big or small, human or Eth, were where the farmers traded their goods with the merchants who then took them to the grand cities. They were these cities’ main means of sustenance.

Aware of all the particularities in ways of life that separated the humans from the Eths but also those similar to both, six of the seven riders journeying through the forest had considered that detour an excess of zeal, at first.

Except one of them did not and the others were smart enough not to contradict him. In fact, they were happy just granting him every one of his wishes. Not that he ever asked anything for his own benefit. No, their leader was always working for somebody else’s advantage. The other six had told him numerous times: his altruism would be the death of him. He usually just glared at them and they would shush immediately after.

They had returned to N’Alaera’s side of the border because their leader was suspicious that something was not right. It didn’t help his worries that the signs confirming his thoughts kept adding up as they rode through the forest. By the time they reached the stream who worked as a natural frontier between Meya and N’Alaera, the other six became alert as well.

Simply because the river was not being guarded. They crossed the stream easily, without as much as a first class barrier stopping them.

Sure, they weren’t expecting a large force of guards in the forest, but not to see even a single soul protecting the border was disappointing, to say the least. Given their warring situation, it could be considered strange, even worrying.

Nevertheless, they didn’t have much information about the human or Eth warrior groups responsible for patrolling the borders. For all they knew the men had been relocated further to the south to prevent a greater possibility of invasion. It was understandable enough.

If not for the black smoke that had alerted their leader in the first place while they were still in Meya’s lands. It became heavier with every step into N’Alaera’s part of the forest, almost obscuring their trail, and was also accompanied by a distressing scent of burning flesh.

It was not unusual for humans to burn dead animals due to disease or simply not to pollute the lands or waters by burying them. So that could also be explained. But those seven men recalled that smell from other incidents as well. Incidents far less innocent. Ones they didn’t exactly fear, not for themselves, but whished they wouldn’t have to witness again.

That was one reason why the six of them had refused to believe one of those incidents could be happening so close to their homes. Still, their leader had acted on his instincts. And as always, the other six had followed him. The truth was that they trusted him more than they trusted themselves. They would follow him to Hell and back if need be and he didn’t even have to ask, much less order it.

Not surprisingly, for it was a common occurrence and they were used to it by now, they had been wrong and their leader was right. That, which they didn’t want to ever see again, was displayed in front of their eyes, as soon as they exited the forest and glanced upon N’Alaera’s plains.

Even knowing what that probably meant, they couldn’t help but to feel extremely shocked and confused.

What had once been a small, but productive N’Alaerian town was now a column of smoking debris. To the smell, a mix of smoke and burning flesh, was now added the scent of blood and death.

The seven men picked up the pace and rode hastily to the burned town, hoping to aid and salvage whatever could be saved. But as they left the shelter of the forest and entered the fields, they found the source of that last scent and all doubts, if there were any remaining, were erased from their minds.

Scattered across the cultivated lands were the dismembered bodies of the farmers and townspeople who had tried to escape the burning town.

The riders stopped their frightened horses near the start of the field they had gotten closer to, and six of them contemplated the horrific sight in a mix of dread, perplexity and resignation.

Only their leader wore an impassive expression, his cold ice-blue eyes calmly observing the many bloody crops, soiled with death and destruction. The others kept looking around, now becoming angered at the ones who had done it and particularly at whoever had allowed it.

“Could be bandits or even a forest dragon. Some nasty ones fly over this area, coming from the Sandaer mountains.” The younger Eth rider said, slowly, his northern accent still heavy in his words even after several years of living in the south.

However, his cheerless eyes showed that not even he really believed his words. He knew the only kind of creatures who would spread such cruel destruction and those he had not referred. He was merely trying to keep the spirits up by suggesting other possibilities.

It was not like the whole army had immediately believed the war was over. But that hadn’t stopped them from hoping for peace. They had been fighting for ten years. They had been suffering for ten years. They had been dying for ten years. They deserved peace.

But now this… this came to shatter all that hope. And worse, at least when they had been fighting in the south, far away from their countries, they had believed their homes would be safe as long as they held the lines. Now, they didn’t know what to think, what to hope for…

A sudden change of wind guided the black smoke coming from the town into their direction again, obscuring the road in front of them. The smell intensified as well and the men didn’t get nauseated only because they were already used to it.

The older of the riders, Ylrin’ne, turned to the younger man, while the others shook their heads at the boy’s statement. His sharp black eyes revealed a kind of intelligence and strength that can only come from experience and age, but they had also kindness in them, care for his younger warriors. He had lived to see so many of those he had trained dying next to him, boys he had cared for like sons. But he had also lived to see others become heroes. Others like the leader he so devotedly followed and his riders.

That young man, Sayn, was one of them as well. A hero, forged in battle. He was grateful for what the boy was trying to do, but they all knew his words were false and meant to appease their worries. Still, right now, what they needed was the truth. As terrifying as it was.

“It’s them.” Ylrin’ne said firmly, to whoever wanted to hear him. The younger rider nodded. He had known that, too.

Apparently oblivious to the words spoken behind him, the young leader remained silent during the exchange between Ylrin’ne and Sayn. Looking imposing while quietly sitting on his shining black stallion, the smoky wind pushed his short, raven hair into his clear eyes as they kept searching the destroyed town in the distance. Suddenly, his impassive demeanor fell and he furrowed his brows and gritted his teeth in fury.

“Look for survivors!” he ordered with an authoritarian baritone he rarely used, at the same time he spurred his magnificent mount in the direction of the town.

Not even thinking about questioning their leaders’ orders, the others did as they were told, fearlessly dispersing along the fields and distant town. The older rider followed his lord and leader to the scaffold where he was headed.

Arriving too late to stop his resolute master, the older warrior watched with resignation and some disapproval as his strong leader soiled himself with blood and pieces of torn flesh, when removing the dead bodies of small children (or what was left of them) from their places on the gallows where they had been nailed to by their feet.

“They were eaten alive…” The blue-eyed leader commented in a faded tone, while carefully setting a headless child on the ground at his feet. The elder man sighed and dismounted from his horse to help his lord.

“You don’t know that.” He said, but his attempt was as false as Sayn’s had been before. The tall leader turned to him, his previously simple but clean brown tunic now completely black with blood.

“We’ve seen it happen. They let their monsters feed on young children. They nail them by their feet, alive, heads down, for them to feast on. These were eaten alive.” The older rider nodded, much like the young man had done to him a while back, and kept helping his master in his task. It didn’t take long to finish.

When it was over, Ylrin’ne watched his leader in silence, with a curious expression on his face. The latter cast a high class fire spell to the mountain of corpses and as he knelt in front of it, whispered a short prayer for the soul of the children.

“I thought you had stopped believing in Maguenta.” The elder said when the blue-eyed lord rose. The latter huffed and retorted with a resigned last glance into the pile of ashes.

“I did. But they obviously didn’t. If not, why would they be dead right now?” Ylrin’ne sighed at those words. Many warriors had lost their faith during the war. When they witnessed the horrors of the Black Wizards’ conquests day after day, it was hard to keep believing in something like divine powers. His master was just another one of them. Ironically, it only made him stronger and wiser.

Not bothering to climb into their horses for the short walk to the burnt village, they grabbed the reins and pulled their reluctant mounts through the path leading to smoking gates. As they passed these gates, one of the seven warriors approached them.

With a huge stature, dark skin and rough demeanor, Alsatia was a typical southern Eth from low class nobility. But because he evinced amazing fighting skills ever since a very young age, it wasn’t a surprise when he was charged with the blue-eyed leader’s protection while still a child.

Being a boy, Alsatia didn’t immediately understand the subtleties of nobility and consequently why a child younger than him but a thousand times more powerful needed his protection. Still, he wasn’t about to protest, since his task as a personal knight increased his family’s status.

Over the years, he and his master forgot all formalities and Alsatia became perhaps that of the six Eths, the one who more often spoke his mind to their leader. That day was no exception.

“I’ve searched the remaining houses and the streets. No survivors, a whole bunch of ashes. I’m confused. I don’t understand how this could happen. Not even mentioning the peace thingy, we are controlling the south borders. Where did we fail, where did they break our line?!” Alsatia asked his master, not without some unrepressed fury in his voice.

Contrarily to less practical men, the warrior was clearly more concerned with a way to stop other Death Whisperers from invading than the fact they weren’t in peace, after all.

Looking forward to being helpful, Ylrin’ne tried to answer the question while their leader pondered on his own answer, but he was immediately refuted by Alsatia.

“We don’t have scouts surveying the South of Crano’en desert. They could have invaded the Alliance from there.”

“Not likely, not in so little time.” The dark skinned man affirmed, shaking his head and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“It’s obvious.” The leader’s cold low words startled the other two men. Turning to him, they realized the appearing of that dangerous cold aura that characterized their master when he was immensely furious.

It was rumored that even monsters ran away when they felt this aura of his. Alsatia had to admit: those were smart beasts. Their leader would have no problem killing them with a snap of his wrist, whether that hand carried a weapon or not. He actually feared for the one on his leader’s mind right now. Still, a curious man by nature, he dared to ask what the ice-blue eyed man meant by his statement.

“Did you see any town attacked on Meya’s side? A farm? A house? A field?” The leader questioned. The others shook their heads. He shrugged.

“There you have it.” The other two looked at each other and then blinked at their master.

“I want a piece of your brain.” Alsatia stated. To outsiders it might’ve looked like we was merely joking, but the strong man was actually dead serious. His master wasn’t only known for his strength and intuition. His intelligence was a frightening thing, too.

Also patient as no other, even in his cold fury, the raven haired man explained his thoughts to his riders.

“No one in the Alliance’s army ever knew of any negotiations of peace between the Alliance and the Zãìnea Empire. Then suddenly, out of the blue, we, Eths, receive word that our King has accorded White peace with said Empire. In our naivety we believed the Peace treaty included the whole Alliance. Today, we can say that’s not true. So close to the border, they could have easily attacked our villages as well. No, N’Alaera is under attack while Meya is not.”

Finally understanding where their leader was going with his suppositions, the other two couldn’t believe it to be true, even if they were forced to recognize the veracity of the facts he related. It was too much of a betrayal. The Alliance had achieved so much together. This would bring distrust among its countries, among companions who had fought and died side by side until now.

Interpreting the shocked silence of his warriors for what it was, the leader continued.

“And this also gives us the answer to one of our first questions regarding this treaty. What did we have to offer to such a greedy race in exchange for ending a war they were slowly but surely winning?”

Alsatia and Ylrin’ne looked to their master with widened eyes. Apparently they hadn’t even thought about that possibility yet.

“Safe crossing to attack N’Alaera.” Alsatia said with a weak tone. His master closed his eyes and simply nodded. “Shit, I would have preferred Ylrin’ne’s Crano’en theory.” The guard added softly as an afterthought.

“But how? Our scouts would’ve intercepted them before they entered N’Alaera. We had no reports of missing men.” Ylrin’ne asked, still in denial and trying to find flaws in the raven haired man’s speculation.

He should have known better. His master only spoke when he was certain of what he was saying. Of course he had a plausible explanation for that as well.

“They probably entered in Meya by sea.” The blue-eyed leader started. “Our fleet must have been ordered to return to the north. Fooled like we were. Then they easily crossed Meya’s lands and only now managed to reach N’Alaera’s border in the west. We didn’t realize it because we weren’t expecting it and they were careful while in Meya’s territories. We’ve been watching the south, not the west and certainly not the north.”

“If what you say is true, then this is our fault.” Alsatia commented. Ylrin’ne shook his head, not able to refute his master’s words but not exactly believing them either.

“Our King would not let this happen.” He said, his last resort. “This would be the end of the Alliance. The Alliance is what’s keeping us from being destroyed. Alone, we won’t be able to stop them. He has to know that.”

Nodding, his leader seemed to agree with the older man. He had thought that too.

“This is not the work of the King. This is the work of someone else. Someone influent enough to have access to the king’s seal.” He explained. The other two looked at each other and remained silent. Ten years ago, people had been gossiping about a conspirator in the Council, but with the start of the war, nothing more was known. For ten years they hadn’t heard anything of him and so they had discharged that thought. Could it be there really was a traitor in Meya’s court?

With his mind already conjuring a course of action, their leader seemed to make himself forget the matter of betrayal for now. He believed in doing one thing at a time and right now urgent measures were necessary to save N’Alaera’s people.

“The Death Whisperers have a purpose.” He said. “They wouldn’t be able to bring many supplies with them, that’s why they are looting villages to move forward. We need to know their numbers, know where they’re headed, warn our army and stop them. Before it’s too late. This is not the end of the Alliance. Not as long as we have the courage and the strength to fight for it.”

He concluded with a strong voice while mounting his horse. The others did that as well, but Alsatia had one last question before letting the subject drop.

“Do you have any idea who might be behind all this mess?” His leader shook his head, honestly.

“Not even a clue.” And he hated himself for not suspecting anyone. However… “I’m not familiar with the court in the Capitol. But I will find out. And I promise you, whoever it is, will pay for it! Or I’m not named Lnorien Erephine.”

And everybody knew that ‘The Lord General’ always kept his word.

&&&&&&&

A week passed without a word from Yari’niel. Midaen’niel was about to go insane with worry when the man appeared at their camp the night before the eighth day.

Having ridden without stop for several days, the knight was too tired to give the royal Ethen any useful information about what had happened to him in the Capitol. After a fast meal and a bath in a nearby lake, the man had unconsciously laid his head on a folded blanket inside one of the wagons and had instantly fallen asleep, revealing little more than nothing to the impatient Ethen.

Midaen’niel had huffed with selfish want and had even tried to gently rouse the man once, but his attempt had failed and so he had resigned himself to wait for the knight to wake up on his on.

Covering Yari’niel’s body with a lain cloth, he made an effort to be pleased with the little knowledge the man had managed to share with him: everything was alright and their plans were safe and going smoothly.

However, it was needless to say that an Ethen who was used to see detailed happenings before they occurred wasn’t able to be satisfied with a simple phrase to explain an excruciating wait of several days. Not when the man who could provide all the answers was right there, next to him sleeping peacefully, apparently without a care in the world.

Unable to sleep himself, Midaen’niel did everything he could think of to keep himself busy throughout the night. But, as always happens when you want time to pass faster, it seems like it slows down instead. And so, for our beautiful Ethen, the night bordered on eternity.

The dawn found Midaen’niel brushing and talking to the gorgeous red Gya’ana horse he had christened Lnora, after his uncommon vivid color. The stallion endured his owner’s mindless chat for the sake of being fed, but now and then he let out a bored neigh and a long complaining yawn. One of those times, the blond Ethen actually frowned at him.

“Stop that. I already know you’re still annoyed because of your name. I am, too.” He affirmed. The horse shook his mane and feigned ignorance.

Some of the guards had insisted one past day that such a magnificent stallion needed to be given a suitable name and so Midaen’niel had obliged them. Only, according to the Eth guards, the name the Ethen had chosen was not suitable at all.

Lnora meant ‘Sunset’ in the Eth language. And while Midaen’niel had picked the name because the Gya’ana’s color and brilliance often resembled the colors of Meya’s beautiful sunsets, the Eths contested that the horse was a battle stallion, not a leisure mount to be called ‘sunset’.

Still, the Ethen didn’t back down (even if the horse gave the impression of disliking it, too). The name seemed to suit the Gya’ana somehow. But only when the captain of the convoy agreed with him and revealed his reasons, did he understand why.

“Well done, Milessin. Lnora is a perfectly suitable name for a warrior. It feels like we’re evoking our great Lord General Lnorien Erephine!”

In fact, the Erephine heir’s first name was a derivation of sunset and light, mixed into one word. Lnorien meant something like ‘ray of sunset’. Midaen’niel was shocked that even when naming a horse, his subconscious was thinking about his betrothed, who had gifted him the stallion. And that really annoyed him.

After that, the Ethen had thought about changing the name to something else. But, by then, no Eth dared to question the Gya’ana’s name. Instead, everyone started respectfully referring to him as Lnora, and so Midaen’niel didn’t have another say in matter and the name remained.

Midaen’niel stopped talking with Lnora when the guards came to feed the horse and practically ordered the Ethen to go eat something before the caravan was ready to leave. Going back to his wagon, the blond found his knight still immersed in sleep and heaving a deep sigh settled down next to him, with some fruit in hand.

Half an hour later, the military convoy resumed its journey.

&&&&&&&

When Yari’niel finally woke up from his deep slumber, it was past midday already and Midaen’niel was all set to kill someone due to frustration.

It didn’t help that the first thing Yari’niel did upon hearing his plead for information was smirk at his flushed cheeks.

“You’re beautiful when you’re upset, Milessin.” He declared, enjoying the situation. The Ethen glared at the man. The latter chuckled.

“Calm down, I will tell you everything… After I eat. I’m starving!” Midaen’niel looked at the Eth knight disbelievingly as he got up. But the man was serious. So, the Ethen didn’t have another choice but to sit in front of the noble Eth, watching him eat, with barely contained impatience, for the second time since he had returned. Yari’niel didn’t utter a single word throughout the whole meal but spared him many playful looks.

Noticing the worried, nearly teary sapphire eyes, Yari’niel extended a hand to caress a flushed cheek and finally took pity on the poor Ethen. Pushing the empty trays of food away from them, the knight motioned Midaen’niel to sit closer to him, in order to lessen their chances of being overheard. Well, that was the official reason anyway.

“Everything is going better than expected. I personally escorted Lessin Iararin’ne to N’Alaera’s border.” Midaen’niel’s eyes widened.

“So he’s already safe in N’Alaera?” He asked, not daring to celebrate before he was sure.

“Somehow your cousin’s guard, Lord Athios, was already waiting there with a ship to take him to N’Alaera’s capitol city. I know he’s a good man because Nlie’sieri absolutely hates him.” Yari’niel said, smirking. Midaen’niel almost cried in relief.

“Iadden must have predicted my move. Thank Maguenta! I put Iararin’ne to it. Knowing he’s safe in my cousin’s protection is great news. Thank you for helping him, as well.” Yari’niel smiled at the beautiful Ethen, but then smirked again as an idea popped in his head.

“Actually, I’m just doing my work for Prince Nlie’sieri…”

“What?!” Midaen’niel exclaimed, frowning. The Eth laughed at him.

“It’s true! You have no idea what happened.…”

And that was how Yari’niel started relating his adventures to Midaen’niel. The Ethen listened gladly, finally getting the answers he wanted, and thanking Maguenta many times for putting the noble spy in his way.

&&&&&&&

Squashing several white fragile petals with his feet, Edyane advanced through the stone path in the middle of ancient columns.

The flower field and temple ruins extending in front of him were familiar from previous dreams, but every time he stepped into the beautiful set, his heart always missed a few beats. Not because of the landscape, per say, but the mesmerizing creature living in it.

Edyane had started with these dreams some months ago and they had become more frequent as of late.

If nothing else, they were a pleasant variation from his typical nightmares where he relived the deaths of his comrades and friends.

However, their timing was also blessed, for they came whenever he felt sadder or disheartened and he was always better when he woke up the next day.

He didn’t know how, but the dreams conveyed the feelings of confidence and hope he needed to keep leading his army. His own confidence and hope had vanished a long time ago.

It was not unusual for the prince of N’Alaera to show a courageous and strong façade in front of his men and then surrender to despair on the solitude of his tent. By now, he was so good in hiding his thoughts from others that even Andro, Quera, Tenaii, Delaen and Lnorien had a hard time seeing through his barriers. But his friends knew he was fighting hopelessness just like the rest of the army. They all were.

He, like his generals, was simply not allowed to show it. His men, his people, needed his strength and he could not fail them. He would not fail them. Still, he had been farther away from breaking down.

Solace had returned to some of the warriors when the news of the Peace treaty had arrived. But, like many others, mostly the other generals, Edyane didn’t really believe in such a treaty. Not with the supposed conditions that had been explained to him. Or lack thereof.

He didn’t believe in it purely because it didn’t make any sense. Why would the Death Whisperers want White peace when they were closer to the ultimate win, now more than ever? Their resources were limitless and the Alliance’s army was becoming more tired and disenchanted by the day.

No. Ten years in a deadly war, where his enemy grew stronger and crueler by the day, taught the prince many things. One of them was that, no matter what anyone else said, the Whisperers were not peaceful creatures. Only one who had yet to witness what they were capable of could say they were.

Thus, what this treaty brought to Edyane was not relief, but worry. It made him restless like few things did. He couldn’t help feeling like something big and unknown was happening. Something he could not foresee. And not even he was able to stop what he didn’t know was occurring. Edyane feared for his army, for his people and for his country. He didn’t want his years of sacrifice to be for nothing…

The butterfly in front of him flapped her colorful wings in distress, distracting him from his worrisome thoughts. Edyane immediately caught her warning.

Lost in thought, he had wandered too far into the flower field. Taking some steps back, he stopped moving (and breathing) when the Ethen sitting under the shadow of an aged tree raised his head as if trying to identify something in the air. Probably the distortion of magic the prince had caused when invading the Ethen’s mystic garden.

The same butterfly had alerted him in his first dream: he wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. Practically, his physical body was not really there and thus could not be seen, but just by moving, his spirit was changing the flow of natural magic. The Ethen could easily catch that with his growing powers if Edyane got close enough.

So, in order not to be sensed, the prince had to remain as far from the Ethen as possible, so that the ripples of disturbed magic would not reach the beautiful creature. The butterfly had given him the privilege of seeing the dark-haired Ethen and he should be grateful, not greedy. The Ethen would kill the butterfly if he knew she had brought the prince to that place without his consent.

That was one of the rules of that dreamworld of his. He was allowed to look at the dark-haired Ethen, but he was not allowed to really see him. He had to be always so far away, he hadn’t once gazed attentively at the Ethen’s face. His features became lost in the distance and he wasn’t even able to see the color of the Ethen’s eyes or lips.

Strangely, it was enough for him. The prince usually sat down on the edge of the path, against one of the columns marked with ancient runes, and he spent hours watching the Ethen in the distance.

The dark-haired boy was absolutely fascinating and unmistakably gorgeous, even from afar.

With the Ethen wearing scarce spring clothing, it was easy for Edyane to contemplate his desirable frame.

His slender body was perfect in every way, not exactly muscled but toned in all the adequate places. His creamy white legs were especially tempting: long, lean and shaped. The prince had many shameful thoughts regarding those legs. The rest of the Ethen, too, he wasn't going to deny, but those legs made him feel like a lewd old man.

N'Alaera's prince liked to admire the Ethen's silky ebony hair, too. It created a pleasant contrast with the pale skin of the face, long neck and small shoulders. He often wondered what would feel like to touch it and what kind of man had that privilege.

Contrarily to what the prince would have expected, the Ethen didn't seem very tall, with an average height for his kin. He also possessed the Ethen's natural grace, of course. Or even more.

In some of his gestures, the fluidity of his movements reminded Edyane of Meanea (and the prince had to admit that in the beginning the fact an Ethen more enchanting than his first love might exist, even if maybe only in his mind, had been a shock.)

Still, the prince was not a boy anymore, and he wasn't completely fooled. Edyane could tell that behind the utter loveliness of the creature was hidden an incredible power.

His aura was intense in a familiar manner, too. Like Edyane had felt it someplace before. But the serenity and wisdom he sensed from it were something he did not recognize. It was kind of confusing...

Most of the times the raven-haired beauty was like he was today: sitting under a tree reading old books with magic flowing in colorful waves around him. Other times he was practicing spells in different locations on the large mountain field. Those times he could even faintly catch his crystalline voice. A tone so pure and serene, it erased all the worries from his heart. Only once the prince had caught the raven-haired Ethen dancing with the wind, and it shouldn’t be something he did very often because even the butterfly and his guardians seemed surprised.

For some breathless moments, the Ethen looked around carefully, some of his dark tresses rising softly with the summer breeze. The prince was still too far away from him, though, and he couldn’t immediately discover where the distortion had begun. Still, it was too soon to celebrate. The ripples of waving magic were probably still colliding with him, even when Edyane had stopped moving (even breathing) for quite some time. They weren’t off the hook yet.

A large shadow covered the sun for a second, passing right above the prince’s head and startling him. Large wings flapped with slow and steady movements, dislodging large quantities of air but also redirecting the flow of natural magic. The Ethen looked up at the large blue bird and relaxed. He shook his head and went back to his book at the same time the butterfly next to the prince sighed in relief.

The large bird landed next to them and lay down with his beak under a large wing. Opening his beady black eyes lazily, he glanced in the prince’s direction. Edyane got the feeling the bird not only did see him, but was smirking at him as well. Either way, the prince owed him one.

That was another rule of that dreamworld. The Ethen was never alone. Others occasionally too, but at least one beast was always with him: that big bird with bright blue feathers and a golden beak.

The first time Edyane had seen the monster, he had mistaken the large bird for a dragon, flying over his head, but the butterfly had immediately corrected him. That was Iadden, the Holy Seraph. He was in the mortal world to always assist and watch over the black-haired Ethen.

Inevitably, from that day on, every time he saw the bird, the auburn-haired man wondered about the child in N’Alaera that shared his name (and perhaps also the power) with the beast.

Going back all the way to the only entrance of the flower field connecting to a building, Edyane sat against the wall, on the right side of the archway leading to some bottomless stairs.

The mountains on the other side of the valley were somewhat identifiable, but Edyane couldn’t say from where. His memory was hazy in those dreams. And the multitude of vaguely familiar but at the same time unfamiliar sights and scents was confusing. So, he had stopped trying to recognize the peaceful sanctuary many dreams ago.

The butterfly landed on his shoulder and started chastising him. His mind automatically shut her rambling and with his eyes still watching the lazy bird, the prince’s thoughts naturally wandered back to Iadden.

When he had done it, he had thought he would, but, like in many other things, he had been wrong. If there was something he did not regret in his life was sparing little Iadden from the last ten years in the battlefield. Only Maguenta knew how the kid was doing after the consecutive blows as it was. The rejection of his people, the conflicts with his family and the death of his cousin...

Edyane wished with all his heart that he was managing it well, aided by his strong personality. He hoped that the belligerent boy had become a trustworthy man like his cousins Delaen’niel and Ryaen’ne, but several times stronger and wiser. The kid surely had had the potential.

Of course Iadden wasn’t the only one in his thoughts. Meanea was there as well. But, not as often as in the beginning, though. Time and circumstances had dulled his intense feelings. He had made an effort to forget about Meanea, too, especially after he learned of the existence of his brother. A brother he had yet to know. He often wondered who the kid looked like. A little Meanea, perhaps…or an impossible Iadden.

Maguenta, he hoped not. The world wouldn’t survive another child like Iadden. One Iadden in human form was enough…

Either way, the prince didn’t know yet if he had been successful in forgetting his first love. Meanea was still there and he couldn’t deny that sometimes he just wanted to go back to him and forget everything else. Especially the bloody war…

Edyane sighed. Little Iadden, Meanea, his father, his country… They all seemed so far away. Like from another lifetime.

Maguenta, how he missed the past… The kind, proud smile King Fenaleos saved just for his spoiled Edyane in the mornings. The carefree days, training just for the sake of being the best. His trysts in the pubs along with Tenaii, partying all night long only to be chided by Quera in the morning. The market days full of activity. Falling in love with Meanea. Fighting with Iadden…

Steps coming from the stairs to his left alerted the prince to another person entering the ancient ruins. Turning to the unexpected visit (the Ethen never had human visits while he was there) Edyane was not surprised at seeing an unknown face.

The beautiful Ethen of long silvery hair and coffee brown eyes was not as alluring as the raven-haired one, but he had something regal about him that told Edyane he was also someone influent and important.

Finding the Ethen of legends with a quick look around, the visiting Ethen smiled softly and quickly went to the black-haired boy under the shadow of the tall evergreens.

Noticing his arrival, the other Ethen closed his book and got up. The two boys spoke briefly. Edyane couldn't hear what they said at first, but when they started walking in his direction the wind brought some words to him. Unfortunately, that also meant his time was up.

Indeed, the next time he blinked, he was hearing the morning sounds of a wakening camp. But one thing remained from his dream. The words the dark-haired Ethen had last said to his friend.

«Saen’le tha er. Arn’ne le de suna tha.»

(Don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright.)

&&&&&&&

Another week of traveling brought the convoy to a place located deep in the Sandaer mountains, on N’Alaera’s side of the border. Apparently, and contrarily to what Yari’niel had believed at first, his brothers’ camp was not located in Meya but in the south of N’Alaera, very near the Sacred Wall. Thus, they still had another several days to travel until they could join them.

Midaen’niel didn’t really mind. These days of joyful traveling beside Yari’niel had been among the best in his life. For once, in all his existence, he didn’t have to worry about his actions or the effect these would have in his social status. He was free of responsibility and duty. Even his predictive dreams had miraculously disappeared.

Yari’niel contributed largely to the blond Ethen’s moment of happiness. It was obvious that the low noble was interested in him. He did everything he could to please Midaen’niel in every way. And the inhibitions the knight would have in the court due to their difference in status didn’t exist in the present situation.

He was caring but also boldly passionate and the Ethen had had to refuse him on several occasions. But the former spy’s persistence and affections were weakening the Ethen’s defenses. It was getting more and more difficult to deny his mutual interest and remember he had a betrothed he owed fidelity to.

Midaen’niel was slowly falling for Yari’niel. For his unrepressed infatuation, for his forwardness and his strong desire to be requited. No one had ever wanted the Ethen prince like that. And Yari’niel was a very attractive man who knew how to beautifully use all the subtle (and unsubtle) gallantries the nobles from the court did. He cleverly hid his forcefulness with the refined charm he had acquired by living all his life in the Capitol, often making Midaen’niel laugh or feel really good about himself.

Little by little, the discomfort the Ethen had felt at the beginning with the then unfamiliar Eth, had all but vanished in the past week. He still blushed whenever the man touched him in a more intimate manner, but he was becoming used to it and letting himself fall into the caresses more often than not.

He couldn’t deny that thoughts about his betrothed still plagued his mind from time to time, but they were a lot fewer now. After everything the knight had done for him, Lnorien Erephine couldn’t even begin to compare. No quantity of gifts or status would erase the devotion of Yari’niel. And Midaen’niel would favor those who took care of him. Lnorien Erephine would have to resign himself with his glory and the praises of everyone else.

The other Eths in the caravan had noticed Yari’niel’s interest, too. They didn’t say anything to them, of course, but rumors had it that their journey to meet the noble’s brothers in the war camp was to announce their engagement. Midaen’niel was happy enough not to discourage those. After all, they served their secret purpose.

The Ethen was so happy, that even his mission didn’t seem that important anymore. As they entered N’Alaera’s lands everything was so quiet that it was hard to believe his previous dreams of destruction. And with Iararin’ne safe and Iadden already warned about the Death Whisperers’ plans, Midaen’niel was certain there was nothing more to fear. Everything was going well. The worst had passed. He could enjoy his voyage without worries…

Upon orders of the captain, the convoy stopped and the Eths started setting up camp for the night a little away from the main road. The tents were placed in a large empty space, next to a small stream, in the middle of the dense forest covering the mountains.

A small waterfall could be heard in the distance and Midaen’niel decided to explore the unknown forest and stretch his legs a little while it wasn’t completely dark yet. As it was, everyone else was busy with the camp and he wasn’t allowed to do a single thing, so he had time to spare.

Seeing the Ethen stepping away from the camp and move deeper into the forest, one of the guards warned Yari’niel who was finishing tying the horses to a makeshift stable.

“I’ll do that, milord. Why don’t you accompany Milessin? These mountains are famous for the dragon dens.” Yari’niel nodded, grateful, and followed the unsuspecting Ethen.

&&&&&&&

Midaen’niel stopped in awe at the beautiful sight in front of him. The waterfall, which could be heard to the east of the camp, consisted of small cascades of water flowing from openings high in the rocky 50 feet cliff. The falling water created a very large pool at the base, forming a compacted watercourse further ahead. That watercourse ended up in the stream further ahead next to which the camp had been built.

Rays of the setting sun fell onto everything, making the clear water shine and creating several rainbows alongside its falls. The multicolor sky that could be seen between the green treetops bathed the grass and many flowers blooming around the water in a soft shade of gold. Birds and small animals could be heard and seen here and there, readying themselves for the night. It was beautiful. Nearly magical.

Water splashed the blond Ethen as he moved closer to one of the cascades. There, he noticed for the first time a neatly concealed cave behind the waterfall. Smiling to himself, he took off his shoes and began climbing the slippery rocky steps leading up to it. He was almost in the opening when he miscalculated the jump and landed with his ass and back on a small puddle between two previous steps.

He thanked Maguenta he hadn’t fallen onto solid rock or the lake down below, but immediately after damned his luck when he heard the loud, distinctly Eth laugh coming from the bushes where he had left his shoes. Looking down he smiled sheepishly at the tall knight.

Yari’niel smirked up at him.

“If you wanted to bathe, you should have just taken off your clothes and dove directly into the water.” He yelled. Midaen’niel glared at him. Rising, he shrugged off some of the water in his hair and clothes and carefully jumped the few steps left to the waterfall grotto.

Kneeling on the moldy floor, the Ethen yelled back at the Eth, so that he could also hear him despite the sounds of the waterfall.

“I don’t see you doing it any better!” Yari’niel smirked again and accepted the challenge.

Surprisingly, he didn’t do it much faster than the agile Ethen, even though he managed not to fall. Midaen’niel smiled at him when he finally entered the grotto where he was waiting.

“You’re all wet, as well…” The blond spoke playfully. The former spy glanced at his clothes and laughed.

“That I am. But, you know what? It’s your fault.” Midaen’niel chuckled, joyfully, and gave an apologetic nod.

Walking to the edge of the cave, the Ethen peeked through the water to the glen beneath them. The golden rays were almost nonexistent now, the sun already down below the horizon between the mountains. A silvery glow was taking over the shadows created by the ending day and the evening sounds were gradually subsiding.

“This place is so beautiful.” Midaen’niel commented. “It makes you feel so at peace.”

Yari’niel closed the small distance between him and the Ethen with soft steps.

“I feel the same thing when I’m with you.” He said quietly, fingering a wet lock of golden hair. The blond turned and looked up at him.

“You shouldn’t say those things to me.” He warned, sincere. But, like all the other times this kind of situation had played itself, the Eth didn’t appear to mind his words. With his right hand, he gently brushed aside the rebel golden curls that had escaped the loose braid and fallen in the Ethen’s face.

“It’s the truth.” He replied. “I feel like you’re the answer to my prayers…” Midaen’niel flushed at that and lowered his eyes. His conscience supplied a brief thought about his betrothed, but his heart rejected it and for the first time in all his life, the Dreamseer surrendered to persuasion.

The warm hand at the side of his face moved to his chin, the Eth’s thumb gently stroking Midaen’niel’s plush lower lip.

At that, the blond dared to look up at the Eth’s lustful eyes.

Yari’niel smiled hopefully when the royal Ethen did not refuse him right away like he used to. Interpreting it as the permission he needed, the brown-haired Eth grabbed Midaen’niel’s face with both hands and softly tasted his gorgeous lips with his own.

Midaen’niel tasted as sweetly as he looked, Yari’niel decided. Brushing their lips again, he felt more than see the Ethen closing his eyes in pleasure.

With a raising certainty of success, the brown-haired Eth grew bold in his caresses. He had finally conquered the beautiful, righteous Ethen he had craved for so long.

Their lips continued their almost innocent caresses while the Eth let his hand slip between the golden braid to hold the Ethen’s head in place.

His other hand traveled from the blonde’s left ear, along the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling his barely covered chest to stop at the junction between waist and hip. A soft moan coming from his lover encouraged Yari’niel to deepen their kiss and push the Ethen against the wall of the grotto with his body.

Inexperienced as he was, Midaen’niel opened his eyes wide when he felt the Eth’s tongue enter his mouth and stroke his own. Suddenly realizing he was trapped between the cave’s moist wall and the Eth’s solid warmth, the discomfort he always felt around Yari’niel returned tenfold.

The man was moving too fast.

Despite himself, the blond made an effort to endure and even return the kiss and the advances the best he knew. Forcing his frightened heart to calm down, he reasoned that this was what lovers did. He had agreed to this, he had wanted this passion, too.

Yari’niel obviously knew what he was doing. Some things actually felt quite nice. It just wasn’t the rush of excitement and pleasure Midaen’niel had expected and desired. Something was off, somehow.

Maybe it was like that the first time, he thought, when he felt the urge to push the Eth as the latter took hold of his leg, hooked it to his own waist and started grinding his hard erection against Midan’niel’s groin.

When the Eth broke their kiss and the inexperienced blond was allowed to breathe again, he felt a huge amount of relief. But that was short-lived for then Yari’niel lowered his head to lick the soft flesh at his neck, starting unlacing his pants at the same time and Midaen’niel’s panic began anew.

The blond pondered briefly on his options and made a resolute decision. He was probably afraid because it was his first time. And only Maguenta knew what would be Yari’niel’s reaction if he rejected him now when he had given his silent consent already.

Maguenta, he was not that fickle. He liked Yari’niel, didn’t he? Midaen’niel didn’t know if it was love or not yet, but it was a strong emotion. It would most likely evolve to love. And some of Yari’niel’s ministrations felt really good. He would go forth with this and he would enjoy it.

Nevertheless, in the end, Midaen’niel’s plans to give himself completely despite his fears were denied to him. When they were about to lay down on the soft grassy mold that covered the grotto’s floor, a terrifying scream echoed in the distance, between the mountains.

Yari’niel turned his head to the sound, alarmed.

“Did you hear that?” He asked, a little breathlessly. The blond merely nodded, his cheeks red. With the sound of the falling water, it was a little muffled. But yes, he had heard it.

Yari’niel clearly looked divided. He glanced at Midaen’niel and then in the direction of the sound again, not knowing what to do. Eventually, the decision was taken from his hands.

A chain of screams followed the first one, all coming from the same direction. Without other things distracting them, this time, the two lovers clearly heard the suffering cries.

“It’s coming from the south!” Midaen’niel said, rising and going to the opening of the cave, not caring that he was half dressed. Yari’niel quickly joined him, but took some time to at least fasten his pants, first. The sight that welcomed them both was an alarming one.

Tall, orange flames lighted the night sky, as if the sun had not set an hour ago, while the dark, heavy smoke did a good job of hiding the silvery moon. The wind that had picked up later in the evening was leading the smoke to the north.

“Isn’t that where we are camped?” Midaen’niel cried with worry. Yari’niel nodded.

“Those aren’t natural flames. Maybe a dragon?” He questioned. The Ethen looked at him and then going back inside to fetch his things, stated with strong determination.

“We have to help them.”

Yari’niel almost fell from the cliff in disbelief.

“No.” He said returning to the inside of the grotto, as well. “I’m going to see what’s going on. You stay here. Hidden!” Midaen’niel crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at the Eth.

“What?! No, I’m not. I can fight, too!” Yari’niel glared back.

“You stay here. End of discussion! I’ll be back for you.”

The blond huffed and tried to argue. “But-“

The brunet interrupted him, however.

“No buts. I can’t focus on helping them if I’m worried about you. Please, stay here in the cave!” Midaen’niel frowned at his orders, displeased at be considered a burden.

With a resigned sigh, he eventually realized they were wasting precious time quarrelling and ended up nodding.

“I’ll be here waiting. Be careful.” Yari’niel nodded, satisfied and kissed him briefly. He then grabbed his sword and left the cave in a hurry.

&&&&&&&

It was dark and cold. Midaen’niel had been sitting inside the grotto for a long time, though he couldn’t exactly say how much. To him it felt like eternity, but he suspected it wasn’t more than a few hours.

Outside, the constant falling of water was his only company. An owl hooted in the distance. He could clearly hear the animals now since the screams had stopped some time ago and quietness had returned to the mountains.

Even the flames had greatly diminished. The only thing that remained was heavy smoke filling the air and flowing steadily to the north, following the wind’s lead.

He didn’t know what to think. His heart feared the worst had attacked his camp. And the worst he could think of were not dragons, even though some could be equally dangerous as well.

What was mainly worrying his mind was the ominous feeling that something awful had happened because he had been too immersed in his happiness to be alert. And the guilt was eating him from the inside.

Midaen’niel had thought about leaving his hideout many times, but he was afraid of not being there if Yari’niel happened to return for him and make him worry unnecessarily. But he was becoming too restless. He didn’t know if he would be able to sit still much longer.

For the better or the worst, everything seemed to be solved in the distance. So, if Yari’niel ever came for him, he was surely going to do it shortly.

Midaen’niel had not yet finished having this thought when he heard noise coming from the bushes next to the steps leading to his cave. Utterly relieved that Yari’niel was finally there, he left his hideout and jumped from the concealed entrance into the rocks beside the cascade.

He couldn’t see much. It was too dark and the smoke still obscured the moonlight. But looking down, there was no mistaking the human figure. Midaen’niel started descending the slippery steps carefully, so that Yari’niel wouldn’t have to climb them in the dark.

Meanwhile, the human figure finally looked up at him. All at the same time, a ray of silvery light managed to peek between the clouds of smoke to bathe the man below and Midaen’niel froze. That was not Yari’niel.

The Ethen didn’t exactly know who the man was, but he could tell what he was. Not human, not Eth. With the white hair, pale skin and bloody eyes, that man was a Black Wizard.

His worse fears had been confirmed. The dread he felt right now could only be surpassed by the guilt that would plague his heart for as long as he lived. How could he have been so irresponsible? So careless?

Now, the army would never know N’Alaera was under attack.

Midaen’niel thought about trying to run away, but he knew it was pointless. He had seen in his dreams what these wizards could do. Even if the man was not a supreme wizard, the Ethen’s powers and speed were not enough to survive against him.

The only way he had to win had been left behind, hid in Lnora’s saddle. Even that he had lost. A national treasure. The second greatest weapon that was effective against these sorcerers…

Only Maguenta knew what had happened to them. Lnora, the bow of Lvek’kia, Yari’niel, everyone else.

They had probably been destroyed by the wizards that had attacked them. If something served as consolation was that at least he would share the same fate of his traveling companions really soon.

The moonlight was covered once again and the wizard evoked a large light. Midaen’niel tried to avoid the white light coming for him, but all that he managed to do was trip and fall into the pool down below. Or he would have, if the light hadn’t caught him in mid air and made him float gently in the Black Wizard’s direction.

Chained by the otherwise harmless light, Midaen’niel was placed on the floor. Looking closely at the blonde’s face and body, the wizard smiled smugly.

“Oh, I had never seen one of you before. I am right, am I not? You are an Ethen.” He asked in a rough version of the Eth language. But even though the blond still understood him, he merely glared at the man. The wizard laughed.

“I told the others that I felt that God of yours around here. They did not believe me. But I knew he was protecting something. It was you. He always protects his Ethen.” The man said, clapping his hands, apparently unbothered by the Ethen’s glares and unresponsiveness.

“Now, what will I do with you?” He asked himself, with a long black nail tapping his chin. Midaen’niel thought of a small incantation to get rid of the weak spell binding him. Lost in his thoughts, the man didn’t notice his whispered words.

“Oh, I know!” The wizard exclaimed, startling Midaen’niel and making him interrupt his incantation. ” I could gift you to our great leader Kizaì Arën. The one he really wants is the dark-haired Ethen, but, in the meantime, he could have his fun with you. What do you say?”

Midaen’niel smiled beautifully and then spat at him. “I would rather die!” He said, loudly.

The wizard laughed, in an artificial joyful manner.

“Uh, we have a personality, haven’t we? Beauty and character. A marvelous combination. Even if you are not lucky enough to be wanted by our prince, other leaders will love to break you. In every way.”

Midaen’niel smiled at the man again. “I dare you to try!” The Ethen said, lunging at the man with all his body. The binding spell, weakened by the incantation, wasn’t able to contain the blonde’s strong movement and gave in. Midaen’niel might have no chance against the wizard, but he wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

Used to battle, the wizard side-stepped the Ethen easily and the latter landed heavily on the floor with a huff. However, fed up with his insolence, especially when he was contemplating letting him live, the white-haired wizard aimed a new spell at the blond. Midaen’niel got to his knees and turned in time to see the harmful spell fly at him. This time he just knew that the witchcraft would hurt him.

With no time to prepare a shield of his own, he closed his eyes, raised his arms to protect his face and braced himself for the impact.

But it never came. Opening his eyes, he saw the milky light of a high level magic shield faintly disappearing before him after having absorbed whatever spell the wizard had come up with. The white-haired wizard had his bloody eyes glued at someone behind the Ethen and they were wide with fear.

Midaen’niel wondered who could make the wizard display such a frightened look. Turning around, the Ethen could only make the figure of a really tall man, but nothing else due to the dark. It was probably an Eth, though. They were the only ones able to create a magic shield.

“How come you are here?!” The wizard asked, his voice and breath ragged with fear. But the tall man did not answer him. He merely raised his hand into an attack spell.

Instead of trying to combat with another spell, the wizard turned his back on them and started running as fast as he could toward the forest.

Midaen’niel heard a ‘humph’ behind himself. “They always run when they’re alone…”

The Eth’s deep voice wasn’t familiar at all, but it had a sexy rougher edge to it and a strong southern accent that made it very pleasant and uncommon. The Ethen imagined a big, southern, middle-aged, commoner warrior, with very dark eyes, grizzled hair, tanned skin and big muscles.

Then a flying object passed by, shining in the reappearing silvery moonlight and startled the blond. Only when it ended up imbedded into a thick tree trunk up ahead, decapitating the wizard in the process, did the blond realize with wide eyes that it was a very long and large Nla’dryea.

Still a little shocked at the huge amount of supremacy and strength displayed in front of his eyes, and not hearing the silent footsteps approaching him, Midaen’niel practically jumped when a warm large hand landed on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked gently.

Turning to the man behind him, his heart skipped a few beats, and for the life of him he couldn’t say a single word. It was only slightly comforting the man also seemed to be in a similar condition after taking a good look at him.

With the full moon finally freely illuminating everything around him, the royal Ethen was clearly able to see his savior, at last. And the only thing he could think of was that this kind of perfect hero existed in fairy tales only.

The Ethen had to agree he had been a little wrong in his first assumptions. The owner of that rough and delightfully accented voice was not a bulkier, middle-aged man. However, he wasn’t quite like the refined young nobles the Ethen was used to in the capitol, either. He was an exotic mix of both.

Indeed tall (towering over Midaen’niel) and big (with broad shoulders and a strong chest), the man did not appear to be a brute, though. Instead, he was a hunky, ruggedly handsome male in his late twenties, early thirties, bearing a gigantic aura of power.

Shamelessly staring at the Eth’s fine masculine attributes, Midaen’niel felt an unknown heat coursing through his blood, threatening to burn him from the inside. He had never felt anything like it before. Blushing profusely, he wasn’t able to think about anything else but the man in front of him.

The warrior had a nice suntanned complexion, visible in his long neck, collarbones and bare arms. His short hair was very dark, falling haphazardly into his tall forehead and a few days stubble decorated his sculpted face.

But the most impressive feature of his was the intelligent and penetrating pair of clear ice-blue eyes, reduced to mere thin circles around wide pupils in the dark. Eyes that were at the same time honest and tender. Midaen’niel had memory of a similar pair of eyes, but couldn’t exactly recall from where.

The first to wake up from the surprised stupor they had both fell in was the Eth, of course. Midaen’niel was still breathless just from looking at the imposing and powerful man in front of him.

“You’re an Ethen? What is an Ethen doing with a military supply caravan?” He asked in his deep voice, furrowing his brows at the same time.

The lie. Midaen’niel had to tell him the lie. But somehow he couldn’t. Not to those strong, sincere eyes. Instead he took the cowards’ way.

“Who are you?” He enquired. It was absurd to not trust a man who had just saved him, but anything else that came to his mind was too revealing to share with a stranger. The Eth drew his brows together again in suspicion and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“The question here, Milessin, is who are you?” And with those words, the Ethen realized he wasn’t the only one with a secret there.

TBC…

Ending notes: So yeah, I think this is the worse chapter I’ve ever written! Not only did it take over a month to complete itself, it also sucks! But I wanted to post something for you so here it is. It was very hard to write. I don’t know if that was because I’m still tired from my exams or not. Well, it’s another chapter closer to Edyane and introduces one of, if not, my favorite supporting character. (I think you can tell. =P) Lnorien Erephine. Believe it or not, he was the first supporting character I created for this story. Pity the chapter is so bad. Anyway, sorry for the late of it.