Part One: Shadow Warrior

In that misty hour before dawn, when shadows slowly retreat before the seeking fingers of the sun, the spirit of the forest comes alive. In a small clearing in the middle of the woods, the trees seemed to breathe, fog swirling around their gnarled trunks as if they actually inhaled and exhaled. At the base of the biggest tree, an ancient slowan whose leafy crown appeared to lightly brush the clouds above, a mass of shadows slowly coalesced, taking on the appearance of human form. The shadow sighed as it glanced around the clearing and began to pace beneath the canopy of the tree.

“Late, as usual.” The shadow muttered to itself, glancing occasionally to the sky. Suddenly, in the middle of the clearing, a ball of light appeared, burning steadily brighter until it became a miniature sun. The shadow averted its face, wincing as the light reached the edges of his shadow form. Then, just like that, the light dimmed.

“Must you always arrive in the most conspicuous way possible, Verian?” the shadow called across the clearing. There, where the ball of light had been, stood a glowing humanoid shape. It threw back its head and laughed merrily.

“Come now, Darius, you know we of the Illarian Court love to make a scene!” Verian chuckled again as he made his way across the clearing toward the shadow. He stopped just shy of stepping beneath the tree’s canopy. Darius cringed slightly.

“Careful, Verian, any closer and you’ll set me ablaze!”

“I wouldn't dream of it, old friend!" Verian stepped back and Darius sighed in relief. They regarded each other in silence for a moment, Verian of the Illarian Court of the Duare and Darius of the Shadow Court. Verian was the first to break the silence.

“So, we are sure of the information?” he asked. Darius nodded reluctantly.

“There is no doubt. Baskin is assembling forces as we speak.”

“And there is no chance of gaining more time? She knows nothing of this world, of us… I think we made a mistake, keeping her ignorant all these years.”

Darius shook his head adamantly. “No, it could not have been a mistake, my friend. Had she been aware, Baskin would have found her and slaughtered her, or worse, enslaved her. We would have been unable to stop him. No… her ignorance is what saved her. It just makes our jobs a bit more difficult.” Verian snorted at that, rolling his eyes.

“A bit? Yes. Telling a girl who up until now believed herself nothing more than a mere mortal that she is the key to saving not only her own world but an entire world that she doesn’t even believe exists is only going to be a bit difficult.”

“You know, for an Elven lord of the Illarian Court, you seem to relish finding the dark side in things. I thought that was my job.” Darius said, grinning.

Verian scowled at him. “Bah! What of the traitor? Have we made any progress in identifying the bastard?”

Darius shook his head, grimacing. “None at all. Whoever it is, they are very skilled at covering their tracks. At least we can be grateful that we, as her guardians, are the only ones who were entrusted with her identity.” Verian rolled his eyes again.

“Yes, now all we have to do is convince her that faerie tales are true.” Darius grinned at Verian.

“I have a funny feeling that that will be the easiest part. Now come, we’d better return before we are missed.” Verian nodded and all of a sudden Darius’ shadow form dispersed. Verian sighed, shaking his head, and then his form, too, abruptly dissolved, tiny motes of light dancing away until the clearing was empty once more.



Veraia Sloan moved silently through the wood, booted feet soundless on the leaf covered ground beneath them. The sayan was grazing quietly fifty feet away, and Rai, as she was known to family and friends, was scarcely breathing as she edged around a massive fallow tree. The bowstring scraped her cheek slightly as she held it stretched as far back as it could go, the arrow nocked and ready to fly. She stopped moving, sighting down the length of the arrow as she tested the wind and gauged the arrow’s trajectory. Standing as still as stone, except for the slight trembling in the muscles of her arms from holding the bow at full draw, she watched the sayan dip its head toward the moss it was eating. She exhaled slowly and released the bowstring, holding her stance as the arrow raced toward the sayan. A second later, the sayan dropped to the ground, the arrow buried right behind its foreleg. Rai smiled, finally dropping her arms as she ran towards her kill.

“Clean shot, right through the heart.” She murmured, grinning delightedly. Papa would be proud. She quickly removed the arrow and tied the animal’s legs together. Unstringing her bow, Rai slid it into the quiver with her arrows and slung it on her shoulder before bending to hoist the carcass up. Grunting and staggering a bit under the weight, she succeeded in draping the animal across her shoulders. At 5’3, Rai was a small thing, but sturdily built and muscular from life on a farm. Born and raised in a small cabin on the outskirt of Andea, a small village bordered by the Neverwood, Rai was no stranger to hard work and pulling her own weight. The Neverwood marked the end of the kingdom of Tern, and was widely known to be haunted by any manner of ghoul, ghost, and monster. Very few ventured into the Neverwood, but Rai loved to hunt there. Settling the sayan a little more comfortably on her shoulders, she started down the game trail that would lead her back to the edge of the forest, moving silently despite the burden she carried. You could never be too cautious in the Neverwood, as her Papa liked to say.