Chapter 32 Rhianelle #2
“That’s quite a chase you gave the frog.” There’s amusement in his tone. “I’ve been watching. You’re very determined.”
My face heats. “He ate my fish.”
“I saw.”
“I caught it fair and square in my trap,” I say, more forcefully now. “He just took it!”
“Frogs do that sometimes,” the High Elf says.
The frog croaks, apparently agreeing with him.
I glare at it. “It’s not fair.”
“No,” the High Elf says. “It’s not.”
I should say no and run away. Lady Deirdre always said not to talk to strangers, especially not strange warriors who appear out of nowhere looking perfect.
But I’m hungry and sad. The High Elf doesn’t feel dangerous. He just feels sad like me.
So I walk over slowly and climb onto the log carefully. I make sure the frog sits between us, just in case.
We sit in silence.
This is weird…
But it’s also nice and peaceful. Finally, I work up the courage to speak.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
The stranger looks at me with raised brows.
“Your face,” I explain. “You look tired.”
He stares at me for a beat. Then he smiles. It’s a sad smile.
“You’re very perceptive for one so young,” he says, studying me with renewed interest.
“I’m six,” I say proudly. “Almost seven.”
“Almost seven,” he repeats. “A very wise age.”
The frog croaks at his comment. I want to slap it.
The High Elf looks out at the forest, at the twisted trees and dark shadows and the wrongness that permeates everything.
“I made a mistake once,” he says softly.
“What kind of mistake?” I ask.
He’s quiet for a while, thinking, trying to figure out how to explain something complicated to a child and a frog.
“Have you ever tried to fix something and made it worse instead?” he finally says.
I think about my dress, about how I tried to sew up the tears and just made it look more ragged.
“Yes,” I say.
“I wanted to help and make things better. So I came here, to this land, and I tried to fix things,” he continues.
I tilt my head, curious. “What things?”
“Bad things,” he says vaguely. “Dangerous things. There were gods and monsters here. They were causing problems and hurting people. So I… I imprisoned them. I locked them away where they couldn’t hurt anyone.”
My eyes go wide. “You imprisoned gods?”
“I did,” he says, without sounding proud. “I sealed the worst monsters here. In Astefar. In this very forest. I trapped them so they couldn’t escape. I made it so they couldn’t spread across the world.”
I look around at the dark trees and the shadows that move when they shouldn’t.
“That’s why the forest is like this?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “I turned Astefar into a prison. In doing so, I cursed it and made it what it is now.”
His gaze moves across the twisted landscape around us, the bent trees and the shadows pooling where light should reach.
“I thought I was helping,” he continues. “But I was wrong.”
“So you made a mistake,” I mutter and shrug.
“A very big mistake,” the elf agrees.
The frog croaks sympathetically. My urge to slap it intensifies.
“But you can fix it,” I say, picking at a piece of moss on the log. “You just have to undo what you did.”
The older elf looks at me with those weary, ancient eyes. “It’s not that simple. I can’t undo it alone. It would take someone with different power. Someone who the gods trust. Someone favored by the Unyieldings.”
He stops and looks at me more closely.
“Will you help me?” he asks suddenly.
I blink. “What?”
“Someday,” he says, his expression turning serious. “Not today or tomorrow, but someday, when you’re older and stronger, will you help me correct my mistake?”
I don’t really understand what he’s asking.
But I see his face and how much it matters to him. I see the hope in his eyes, fighting against something heavy. I’m six years old and almost seven. Someone is asking for my help.
“Sure, of course,” I say easily. “I’ll help.”
His smile is brighter this time.
“Thank you, little one,” he says, his shoulders loosening as though a great weight has lifted from them. “That means more than you know.”
He reaches out and places his hand on my forehead. It’s warm like sunlight.
“May you walk between worlds and speak with the lost,” he says, his voice echoing through the trees. “This is my gift. This is my burden. This is my hope. I bless you, Rhianelle Wiolant of Volundr.”
Light explodes behind my eyes, bright, brilliant, and blinding.
I gasp and try to pull away, but I can’t.
The light fills me. It floods into every part of my being.
The sensation doesn’t hurt, but it’s overwhelming.
Every part of me feels too bright, too full, as though my small body cannot possibly contain it all.
This is too much.
I blink.
The light is gone and so is the High Elf. It’s just me and the frog, sitting on the log.
“What—” I look around frantically. “Where did he go?”
I twist around, searching behind the log and between the trees, but there is no High Elf. It is as though he was never here at all.
The frog stretches its legs and starts hopping again.
“Wait!” I scramble off the log. “Wait, where are you going? Who was that? What just happened?”
The frog doesn’t answer. It just hops away from the log and deeper into the forest.
I chase after it. My fish is still in its belly and I want it back.
“Come back here!” I shout, stick raised. “I’m not done with you!”
The frog croaks and hops.
I run after it into the twisted trees, into the cursed shadows of Astefar.
A little elven girl marked by Casimir the Brave.
I didn’t understand it then, the full weight of his request.