Shalyndrial sat, watching the surf come in as the day waned. This was by far her most favorite part of being alive—watching the sunset across ocean waters stretching off into infinity. Such peace and tranquility could not be captured by the hand of any artist. The mere thought made the high elf chuckle softly to herself as she sat in awe of the deep reds and oranges streaking across the sky. The billowing clouds hung low over the sea, defying the laws of gravity as though it were no greater a feat than defying the paltry laws of mortal man. Truly it was a spectacle to behold, held in reverence to those who took the time to appreciate it.

The soft-spoken enchantress not only took the time to appreciate these moments, but she savored them like the finest cuisine of the gods. Her eyes feasted on Norrath’s beauty every chance she got, realizing that no matter how many sunsets she watched, each one held a unique beauty that would never be seen again except in her flawless memory.

The high elf took in a deep breath, the sweet scent of the sea air filling her nostrils. Closing her eyes, she listened to the waves lapping against the shore below. Her feet dangled over the edge of the wooden dock, swirling their naked way through the ripping waters of the high tide. The sensation was like the caress of a long-time lover who knew every inch of her body—where to touch and how to give her the greatest pleasure possible. Though numerous lovers had graced her bed in the centuries of her life, none filled her with so much satisfaction than the firm, but tender hand of Norrath itself.

Raising a hand of her own to cradle her snowy face, Shalyndrial pretended that it was the hand of the world seducing her with its gentle touch. It was a silly and foolish fantasy of hers, but it was one she enjoyed.

The fanciful high elf was prone to such indulgences—she didn’t care who saw her. As far as she was concerned, most other people were too wrapped up in their petty concerns to appreciate the true ecstasies Norrath had to offer, if only they would let it. So what if they thought she appeared foolish? It only served to prove how sad and empty their lives truly were.

Day to day life was no excuse. As an enchantress, she found that the demands made on a spellcaster were often excruciating, with many expectations to live up to. Of necessity, all the arcane disciplines were strict, leading most of its constituents toward dourness. It was expected. Shalyndrial rejected that option, however, and strove to retain the gentle and kindhearted nature with which she was born.

She was fortunate, as her gift of perfect recollection afforded her this luxury. While her peers pored over their research time after time to commit the complex spells to memory, Shalyndrial would read something only once and it would be hers instantly and forever. It was a source of angst among her colleagues, certainly, but the ceaselessly sweet nature of the gifted high elf made any open displays of bitterness a rarity.

Her flawless memory also provided the high elf with a means of preserving unique experiences such as the sunset before her. From that point on, all Shalyndrial must do was close her eyes, and she could relive the experience in perfect detail again and again.

Out of the burning aura of the dipping sun emerged the dark outline of a seafaring vessel on its approach to port, arriving to deliver the latest batch of Faydwer’s visitors and immigrants from Antonica. The high elf watched the sails as they caught the breath of Norrath’s wind, propelling the ship toward its destination.

Shalyndrial marveled at it, thinking how so rarely did technology portray such an intimate coupling with nature in order to go about its task. Typically, it was the tendency of machinery to go against nature’s grain. Reshaping it. Transcending it. Defying it. But every time she watched a seafaring vessel unfurl its mighty sails, she marveled at the stylish and subtle means of traveling the seas—graceful in its clever elegance.

Even closer the ship approached, the high elf watching it grow in size with each serene moment that passed. Sitting there observing the vessel’s languid motion among the waves, Shalyndrial admitted to herself that it was little wonder such ships were given names. Somehow, without merit of magic or any mystical power, these inanimate creations of man seemed to take on personalities all their own. She could almost feel the approaching ship’s palpable awareness, as it made its winsome way through the rippling waters toward her.

“If she could speak, what stories would she tell?” Shalyndrial asked herself in wonder.

Larger and larger the ship grew until finally its masts towered over the tiny high elf sitting on the docks, its flags waving in the breeze. Shalyndrial discovered the vessel’s personality became even more pronounced up close, as she could see it in sharp detail. The polished wood of the hull swirled in graceful arcs, identifying it uniquely in much the same way as a person’s fingerprint. The finery of the ship’s craftsmanship gave the vessel an ornate sense of character as the sailors went about caring for it as they would a loved one.

Shalyndrial smiled at her overdeveloped sense of romanticism.

The boat came to a precarious halt at the end of the pier, its motions only slight in the meager waves near the shore. The sailors’ voices broke the silence as they made ready the moors and gangplank in their docking procedures.

Before long, the passengers began disembarking, and the high elf sat placidly watching each individual’s reaction to their arrival. She picked out those whom she could tell were seasoned travelers, blandly accustomed to seeing the usual sights one can find in every seaport. Others looked about themselves in wonder, obviously never having visited the continent before in their lives.

Simply sitting back and observing the actions of others was yet another diversion that never wore on Shalyndrial. She found it delightfully amusing how people behaved when they didn’t realize they were being watched. Even though all the individuals she watched were uniquely different in their own manner, the high elf did start to notice the emergence of some generalizations that could be made. For instance, high elves and Erudites typically kept to themselves silently, while dwarves and halfling folk tended to talk more. The many other races possessed their own usual habits, but the humans delivered the most varied reactions she’d ever seen. Some were marveling while others remained stoically indifferent. Most were any number of steps in between. Some were smiling and happily talking to whomever would listen, while others…

Shalyndrial tilted her head curiously. Now that was certainly odd. Normally wood elves donned a cheerful demeanor, particularly when arriving at their homeland after a long trip at sea. It was very unseemly to observe one returning to Faydwer from Antonica with a dull, somber expression. The high elf had seen many of her wood elf cousins in her time. She had seen happy ones, sad ones, timid ones, and even the occasional hot-tempered ones. But never before had she seen one with an expression quite like this young woman.

As the wood elf in question approached along the pier, the enchantress discovered that this person was not only somber, but she was making a valiant effort to hold back a deluge of tears behind those green eyes of hers. It became increasingly obvious to the high elf with every small step this young woman took that something was dreadfully wrong.

With a splash of water, Shalyndrial pulled her delicate white feet out of the waves below and rose to stand barefoot on the wooden dock. Concern shadowed her refined features as she stepped lightly along the wooden planks toward the distressed girl.

“Pardon me,” the high elf spoke with a musical voice as she reached out to gently waylay the wood elf. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, miss.”

The wood elf stopped to look up, her thin lips not muttering a word.

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with the routes,” Shalyndrial said, placing a hand to her own chest in a self-deprecating manner. “Is this ship leaving soon for Antonica by chance?”

“I think so,” the wood elf shrugged. “But it won’t be for a while. The crew were saying something about a heavy fog setting in tonight.”

“Oh my!” the enchantress breathed. “Do they know how long the voyage will be delayed?”

The wood elf shook her head.

“They didn’t say, but I wouldn’t expect to be on your way until at least morning. Now, please excuse me…”

Considering the discussion closed, the fretful wood elf made as though to depart when Shalyndrial interrupted her a second time with a sojourning hand.

“Pardon me again,” she said in her usual gentle tone. “But I’m afraid I am also unfamiliar with this area. Might there be a safe place close by to settle for the night?”

“I really wouldn’t know. I’m just passing through,” the wood elf replied.

“On your way to Kelethin, are you?” Shalyndrial asked.

For some reason this had the effect of upsetting the small wood elf. The young woman looked up sharply, pausing a brief moment to compose herself before replying.

“I-I’m not… really sure,” she said in a small voice. Raising her hand, she swiped quickly at her eye.

Shalyndrial craned her head down to see tears beginning to spill down the wood elf’s cheeks. This was most unusual, the enchantress thought to herself. Something dreadful must have happened to this poor girl on her journey.

“My dear, I see something is terribly wrong,” the high elf said softly, her voice filled with genuine concern. “May I invite you to join me here for a while? It would be dangerous for you to travel the wilds in this condition. Adding to that, the fog that is on its way, I would hate to see you fall victim to the many dangers out there alone.”

The young wood elf placed a small finger up against her nose, a sniffle escaping her control.

“I’ll be okay,” she whispered, elbowing her way past the high elf.

“Please?” Shalyndrial asked, her tone carefully mild. “I would love your company for dinner. You don’t even have to talk about it. Just take a moment to calm yourself before pressing on. That’s all I ask.”

The wood elf stopped, the highlights of her hair catching the fiery shades of the sunset behind her, causing the auburn strands to shimmer red against the darkening background of Faydwer. She turned around cautiously, no longer attempting to hide the tears that glistened on her cheeks.

“Why?” she asked in a choked voice.

Shalyndrial smiled sweetly as she stepped forward.

“Because I spend a lot of time at these docks, my dear. I have seen many different people from all walks of life come through this way. I’ve seen reunions of happiness and excitement. I’ve seen separations bringing sorrow and sadness.” The high elf reached out to place a finger under the small wood elf’s chin. She could feel the wet sensation of tears on her hand as she lifted the young woman’s gaze to meet her own. “But never before have I seen such hopelessness as I see in your eyes right now, sweet one.”

The wood elf backed away slowly, a distrustful look aimed toward the mysterious person standing before her. Who was this high elf? What interest did she have in making her feel better? Why would she even bother? What did she want in return?

Then the wood elf closed her eyes, berating herself with a sigh as she ran an agitated hand through her hair. Had it truly come to this? Had she allowed recent events to taint her so much that she instinctively questioned every kind hand extended her way? Looking into the eyes of this high elf standing across from her, she could see no hint of malevolence or deceit. A few months earlier, it would not have even crossed her mind to look. What had happened to change her so much? She began to wonder who she really was anymore.

Slowly, the wood elf’s features distorted into a pained expression, her shoulders heaving as she was overcome with silent sobs wracking her body. Shalyndrial quickly stepped over to the wood elf, taking the distressed girl in her arms, the young druid’s head to rest against her shoulder.

“I’m in so much trouble,” the wood elf sobbed bitterly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, I-”

“It’s okay,” the high elf whispered soothingly. “Don’t think about it right now. Here, come with me to my room at the inn over there. You’ll be safe inside, and eating something will make you feel worlds better. It always does.”

“Thank you,” Laera whispered, breaking their embrace. Together, the two stepped down the pier onto dry land, one comforting the other with a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly the wood elf stopped short, turning a suspicious eye toward Shalyndrial.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “I thought you said you didn’t have a place to stay?”

“Yes, well…” Shalyndrial looked at the young woman with a sheepish grin. “You looked as if you needed a friend. So, I had to come up with something on the spur of the moment to keep you from marching off.”

Looking up to the high elf’s porcelain features, the young woman couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face. A small chuckle escaped her lips, lending a peculiar contrast to the tears that remained on her cheek.

“I see,” she said, her smile broadening.

The high elf extended a graceful hand.

“My name is Shalyndrial,” she said, introducing herself cordially.

“Laera Nellynwae,” the wood elf said softly, sniffling meekly before accepting the enchantress’s hand.

A knowing grin extended across Shalyndrial’s face.

“A sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Nellynwae.”

Laera couldn’t decide if it was Shalyndrial’s ceaselessly kind demeanor, the food, or the familiar surroundings, but the druid felt so much better after spending time with the high elf in her rented room. The entire building was designed to mimic the style of Kelethin, all decked out in stained and polished wood and open-air windows. The fragrant scent of cedar pervaded the room, bringing the memory of her home even more vividly to mind.

Dinner consisted of sourdough bread and a steaming bowl of soup laden thick with succulent meat and vegetables. Laera thought her taste buds would leap right out of her mouth at the flavor, after so many weeks of eating nothing but standard rations and whatever else she could scrounge up.

The conversation remained lighthearted as the two elves discussed the idle pleasures of life in Faydwer, for which Laera was devoutly grateful. Instead of the doom and gloom of the Pact of Zeranon, the wood elf was granted leave to focus on the lovely, simple things that made her happy. For once, it was refreshing to hold a polite conversation with someone who deviated from the dourness and cynicism of her former traveling companion. Finally, she found someone she could relate to.

“You should have seen his face when he realized his swimming trunks were long gone,” Laera said, her eyes alight with mirth. “I never knew an elf could turn that shade of pink!”

The sound of Shalyndrial’s heartfelt laughter floated merrily through the room as she let show her appreciation for Laera’s tale at the fishing pond in Felwithe.

“Oh dear,” the high elf said once she caught her breath. “A future paladin! May the gods protect us all!”

Laera shook her head good-naturedly, sipping another spoonful of her soup.

“So, what happened then?” Shalyndrial asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“I have no idea,” the wood elf shrugged. She popped a portion of the sourdough in her mouth. “I left.”

“You left him there?” The enchantress was astonished. “What ever happened to his trunks? Did he ever retrieve them?”

Laera tilted her head, absently chewing on the bread as she tried to remember.

“You know,” she said, swallowing. “Come to think of it, I have no idea. I tossed them behind the boulder as I left.”

The high elf’s face froze solidly in place, a half-smile gracing her stunned features as she stared at the druid sitting across from her.

“No…”

The wood elf grinned and nodded emphatically as she stuffed more bread into her mouth.

“No!” Shalyndrial insisted comically. “I can’t believe it! You, my dear, have a heightened sense of vengeance! I, for one, shudder at the thought of having you angry at me.”

“That’s what Rigel said,” Laera laughed.

“Rigel…?” the high elf inquired.

“Mmm,” Laera muttered, her mouth full. Chewing hurriedly, she swallowed to explain. “He’s…well…I guess you could say he was my boyfriend.”

Shalyndrial opened her mouth wide in a silent “ah” motion, allowing the wood elf to continue.

“He’s a real sweetie. And he’s talented, too. He made this tunic for me,” she said, placing two thumbs proudly beneath her leather shoulder straps.

“May I…?” the high elf asked, gesturing to the tunic.

“Sure, please do.”

Shalyndrial’s graceful white hand reached out to feel the tunic, inspecting the smooth leather with her fingertips. The enchantress’s appreciative expression turned curious at running her fingers over the tunic’s edge where it met the druid’s skin.

“What’s this lining?” she asked.

“Rabbit fur.” Laera smiled.

“It’s so soft!” Shalyndrial declared, her voice filled with amazement. “With this lining, you could easily go without-”

“I do,” the wood elf interrupted with a small grin.

“Ah, I see.” Shalyndrial returned Laera’s grin, politely removing her hand. “I admit, I am no savant at tailoring. Still, it seems to be quite a fine piece of armor.”

“Thank you. I think so, too,” Laera replied, downing a chunk of potato from the soup. “I never knew Rigel had it in him. It’s amazing how you think you know someone over the years and then they pull something like this on you. It came as such a surprise when he gave it to me.”

“A lover’s gift?” the high elf asked with a decidedly mischievous grin.

The wood elf’s own smile faded slightly, her eyes losing their cheer.

“Ah, no…” she said softly. “A goodbye gift.”

“Oh, I see,” Shalyndrial said, her demeanor respectfully growing solemn. “I’m terribly sorry. It looks as if he took quite a shine to you at one time.”

Laera looked down at the tunic she wore.

“I believe he did,” she said softly, more to herself than to the high elf. “And I him at one time, even if I was too blind to see it.”

The enchantress ate a few spoonfuls of soup, leaving the wood elf to her own thoughts for a few moments before speaking.

“If I may be so bold…” she began, clearing her throat.

“Certainly.” Laera looked up at the high elf.

“May I ask what happened to separate you?”

The wood elf’s gaze turned abstracted as she searched for the words to answer properly.

“My life turned upside-down,” she said at last, not finding any. “It changed into something it should never have been. It became warped and twisted until it was unrecognizable.” Laera placed her bowl down firmly on the table, the spoon clinking. “Until I became unrecognizable!”

Looking up, Laera saw the beautiful enchantress sitting across from her, listening with a genuinely sympathetic ear. The wood elf realized she was heading down a dangerous path with this thread of conversation.

“You know, you have been so kind and considerate,” she said hurriedly, rising from her seat to a half-crouch. She busied her hands with cleaning up her dinner’s mess. “You really don’t need to hear the life troubles of a stranger, and here I’ve kept you up until three in the morning. I really should be heading out, even if-”

The porcelain white skin of the high elf’s fingers halted Laera’s tan hands in mid-shuffle. Looking up, the wood elf’s gaze met the clear blue eyes of the enchantress.

“Go, if you must,” Shalyndrial said in a near-whisper. “Just understand that I didn’t stop you because you looked hungry. I didn’t stop you for pleasant conversation, either. I saw another person in pain, and I wanted to help.” The high elf paused, allowing her words to sink in a moment before continuing. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t wish to. But believe me, I have come to know the value of a compassionate ear. A very kind man extended me his one time when I needed it most. Please allow me the privilege of extending mine to you now?”

Laera looked from one eye to the other as she considered Shalyndrial’s words. Slowly, the wood elf sank back down into her wooden chair, her gaze falling to look on the enchantress’s hand resting on hers against the tabletop. She swallowed nervously, forcing herself to speak before she changed her mind.

“Remember what I said at the dock?” she asked, her face blank as though in a daze.

“You said you were in trouble,” Shalyndrial answered, nodding gently.

The wood elf rubbed her forehead nervously, letting out a small sigh.

“Trouble… doesn’t come close to doing it justice. You see, I-” Laera’s voice caught in her throat. She swallowed again to speak, her voice quivering slightly. “I abandoned my companion, and broke a solemn oath.”

Shalyndrial waited to see if the distressed wood elf had anything to add. Moments passed before she spoke.

“And you regret your decision?”

Laera’s jaw worked, but no words came out. The wood elf began to tremble, causing Shalyndrial to bring her other hand forth, taking the frightened young woman’s hands in both her own.

“I-I don’t… know.” Tears began to well in the druid’s eyes as she spoke. “I shouldn’t have left… but I couldn’t stay…”

“What made you leave?” Shalyndrial’s voice was filled with kind concern.

Laera rolled her eyes, wondering where to begin. Rather than spend the time relating the long, drawn-out story, the wood elf decided to spit out the short version instead.

“She… she was a… a Teir’Dal.”

The enchantress sat erect, her face seemingly even paler, if that were possible.

“A dark elf?” she asked in apparent disbelief, to which Laera nodded in confirmation. “What on Norrath possessed you to travel with one of their kind?”

“It-it… I can’t go into it right now,” Laera said, tripping over her own tongue. Breaking the high elf’s hold on her hands, she waved them about. “It’s a long story, and I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“No, no. That’s fine,” Shalyndrial reassured. Bereft of their charge, the high elf pulled her hands back to place them in her lap beneath the table. “So, you are afraid this… dark elf companion of yours will come seeking revenge?”

Laera sighed, closing her eyes.

“If only it were that simple,” she said wearily. “Dreketh’s temper is the least of my problems right now.”

“Oh,” the high elf said, confused. “Then, I’m not sure I see the problem?”

The wood elf’s mind raced with the dilemma of how she was to explain things without revealing anything about the Pact. She wasn’t even sure how much was a secret or how much would be safe to tell.

“The problem…You-if I… I don’t-” she said in a jumble.

Shalyndrial interrupted by making soft shushing noises, as though pacifying an infant.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Take a deep breath. Relax. If you feel it may violate a confidence, I understand perfectly. Why don’t you just tell me about this companion of yours instead? Dreketh, was it?”

“Dreketh,” Laera said absently, taking a moment to calm herself. “What’s to say about her? She’s a scheming, murdering Teir’Dal like they all are.”

“What happened that made you leave her?” Shalyndrial asked.

Laera pressed her lips together angrily.

“She killed a man. A human,” she said bitterly. Taking a long breath through her nose, she steeled herself for her next statement. “What was worse is…I helped her.”

The wood elf looked up hesitantly, finding the enchantress’s face serious, but not recriminating.

“She tricked me into doing it,” Laera burst out, at last finding a release. “I thought everything was well in hand. I had no idea what she intended, I swear it on Tunare’s faith! I didn’t know! I didn’t!”

“Shh, it’s okay. Calm down. I believe you, Laera. I promise. Truly, I do.” Shalyndrial placated the insistent wood elf. “What happened next?”

“I-I couldn’t take it,” the wood elf said resignedly. “After all that happened—after screaming at her for tricking me into betraying my faith, I-… that’s when I left.”

“You turned your back and walked away?”

“Well, no…I, erm…I cast the Gate spell.”

“You opened a Gate?” Shalyndrial asked with mild surprise. “Where on Norrath did this take place?”

Laera winced and spoke timidly.

“Qeynos Hills?”

The high elf’s eyebrows shot up. Leaning forward, she whispered confidentially.

“You abandoned a Teir’Dal clear on the other side of Antonica?”

The wood elf nodded, still wincing.

Shalyndrial looked around herself in disbelief as she sat back in her chair.

“Is she about your level of training?”

Again the wood elf nodded.

“Oh dear,” the high elf said. “The gods alone would be able to deliver her from those lands by herself.”

Laera looked up at Shalyndrial’s matter-of-fact tone.

“You really think so?”

The enchantress returned the wood elf’s gaze with a serious nod.

A pang of guilt pulled at Laera. After completing her spell and appearing before the entrance to Freeport, the wood elf had felt a number of emotions. It didn’t take her long before realizing the impact of what she had done. A flood of unforeseen questions entered her mind. What was to happen next? Was the Pact still binding? Did Tunare still expect her to seek the Chalice, or was this truly the end? Moreover, was she going to return to Kelethin and admit her failure before Headmistress Netheel. Or worse, Yeolarn Bronzeleaf himself? The memory she held of their last encounter when the high priest reluctantly selected her for the Pact sent chills down her spine.

Not once did she stop to consider these questions on her companion’s behalf. What did Innoruuk expect of Dreketh? Was she, in fact, going to continue seeking the Chalice on her own? Where was she to go now that Laera had left?

An inexplicable heaviness pressed against the wood elf’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. For all her overtures of respecting life and her refusal of being a party to murder, she realized she might be singularly responsible for the death of her companion. True, the dark elf was the result of a perverse creation of Innoruuk, but for some reason that didn’t matter to Laera just then. Even though she meant every word she had said in the Hills, the thought of Dreketh lying torn and bleeding after falling victim to the dangers of central Antonica sent the druid’s stomach to nausea.

“Sweet Tunare, beloved Mother,” Laera said fervently. “If she dies, it will be my fault. There would be no trickery or excuse this time, it would be my fault because I wasn’t there!”

Shalyndrial’s calm expression offered no comment.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” the wood elf demanded, standing suddenly. “She might already be dead right now, and I’m the one responsible! Dear gods above…”

The high elf pressed her lips together, her expression thoughtful as she raised her hand to quiet the panicked wood elf.

“Child, I really don’t wish to upset you. Please think rationally about this. You don’t know for certain what, if anything, has happened-”

“No. No, I don’t,” Laera responded, shaking her head violently. “That’s because I’m not there to see! I’m not where I belong!”

“Laera, please.” Shalyndrial spoke in such a serene voice, it affected the wood elf more profoundly than if the enchantress had stood up and demanded her silence. Laera slowly resumed her seat to hear what the high elf had to say, her look of alarm still unwavering.

The high elf interlaced her fingers together, trying to decide how best to proceed.

“My dear,” she said with sincerity. “I don’t know what your situation is exactly, so please understand that I cannot say anything with certainty. I don’t know who your friend is, or if what you did was the right or wrong thing to do.”

Laera glanced up sharply at the high elf’s usage of the word “friend,” but made no comment as she listened.

“Only you can determine what the consequences of your actions have been. There is only one thing I can say with full confidence, and that is you cannot undo what you have done. Once you realize what the consequences of your actions may be, you must choose what you will do about them in the here and now. That is all any of us have to work with, really,” she finished with a shrug.

Laera swallowed hard, listening to the high elf’s words of wisdom. Of course, what Shalyndrial said was true. As much as she wished it, nothing could turn the clock around—not even the power of gods could do that. The lucid part of Laera took over, making her realize that panic was not going to help matters any. Gradually, her heart stopped pounding so hard. She breathed easier and began to think more clearly.

“Now,” the enchantress continued. “From what you know of your companion, what would be the first thing she would do after you left?”

“Before or after she swore eternal damnation on my soul?” Laera asked wryly.

“After that,” Shalyndrial said, finding it difficult to keep the grin from her face.

“Well, I figure her first goal would be to get as far away from the west as possible,” the wood elf said. “The people of the Karanas…well, they didn’t take to her kindly. That means going back through some dangerous places alone—including Kithicor. She might have returned to Odus instead, but I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Why not?” the high elf urged.

“It would be as bad or worse than the alternative,” Laera explained. “Together, we managed to sneak through Qeynos, but without me as a lookout, her chances of making it through the city are slim. I think it would be her preferred choice, but I really doubt she would try it on her own.”

Laera toyed with her spoon, swirling it through the cooling soup in the bowl before her.

“I have to go back, don’t I?” she asked, her small mouth frowning. “I have to go look for her.”

Shalyndrial merely sat in silence, knowing that the wood elf wasn’t truly seeking an answer, or any sort of confirmation. The enchanter could see that Laera had already made up her mind about what needed to be done. The only question remaining was if she would actually go through with it or not. The power struggle taking place within left its mark on the outside.

“And if I find her, I’ll have to stay with her until our task is done,” Laera continued, her expression reminding Shalyndrial strongly of a child who was loath to take her medicine, but swallowed the bitter amalgam nonetheless. A single tear crept down the wood elf’s cheek as she stole a small glance up at her high elf friend.

Shalyndrial could think of no proper reaction to make, outside of a resigned, friendly smile.

“Thank you so much, Lady Shalyndrial, for giving me this respite,” the wood elf said, returning the smile sadly. “Our time together has reminded me of who I am. I think I forgot in all the tumult my life has become lately.”

“The decision you make is not an easy one, Laera,” Shalyndrial replied. “Most individuals I know would not have the courage to choose the path you have. As time progresses, sometimes I begin to think that responsibility for one’s actions is becoming an outmoded concept in place of narcissism and selfishness.” The high elf’s smile broadened. “Then someone like you comes along who gives me hope. Believe me, whatever gift I might have given you tonight has been repaid tenfold.”

Laera felt her cheeks flush slightly at the enchantress’s compliment.

Second only to sunsets was Shalyndrial’s passion for sunrises. Even though nothing could rival the fiery reds and oranges darkening to the deep blue shades of night, she could not deny that the peaches and yellows of a new day’s birth were breathtaking in their own right. The rays of the rising sun streaked across the sky to fall against the top of the ship’s masts in the early morning.

The seaport was filled with numerous people boarding the ship, the official word being that she was scheduled to depart shortly after dawn. Though the fog had long ago lifted at the approach of daybreak, a thin layer of frost remained to dust the ground in the chill morning.

Shalyndrial pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders as she leaned against the doorframe to the small inn. In the distance, she watched her wood elf friend-in-passing step up the gangplank. The small, leather-clad figure stopped only once to turn and wave her final goodbyes. The high elf smiled sadly, raising her own hand in return. Though Laera wished to Gate back to Antonica so as to begin her search as quickly as possible, Shalyndrial convinced the young druid that the time spent sailing back could be well spent in thought as she decided who she was, and what role she wished to play once she was reunited with her friend.

“May you take Erollisi’s Love with you in your journey. May it light all the dark places you must walk, sweet one,” she whispered, watching Laera disappear among the crowd. “Erollisi’s divine love, and my own.”

“The prayer of parting?” a furtive voice spoke from around the corner of the inn. “If I am not mistaken, such a prayer is reserved for close friends—even family. She travels by sea. Perhaps a hymn to Prexus would be in order, if you care so deeply for her welfare?”

The enchantress’s placid eyes didn’t flinch once at the familiar sound of the ranger’s voice.

“If Prexus listened to the words of elves, I would offer it without pause,” she said softly, watching the final preparations being made to set sail. “What are you doing here? I thought you returned to Antonica.”

“Who says I didn’t?” the ranger asked.

“The port has been fogged in all night,” Shalyndrial argued in her usual serene tone.

“There are more ways than one to cross the Ocean of Tears,” he said with finality. “The important thing is that I was successful.”

The high elf blinked slowly, turning her head toward the ranger’s voice.

“The dark elf is safe, then?” she asked, her voice carefully controlled.

The ranger paused at the unexpected question.

“She told you, did she?”

“What she told me is between me and she,” Shalyndrial said smoothly. “I asked you if her companion is safe.”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied evenly.

“Your encouragement overwhelms me, Ranin,” Shalyndrial said dryly, her eyes returning to the ship.

“She’s alive,” the ranger elaborated. “For now, that’s the best we can hope for.”

Reflected in the depths of the high elf’s tender eyes, the vessel began to move, veering away on its journey toward the west. Normally, the faultlessly romantic Shalyndrial would have composed a few words in her mind, fitfully honoring the setting’s awe-inspiring beauty. But that morning the mental words fell broken and useless at her feet as she watched the ship’s flight into the sea.

“I fear very shortly that will be true of us all.”

Chapter 15 - Homecomings