The mist surrounded the boat like a deceptively light veil that gradually turned into a dense layer as Lord Narthoss crossed the boundaries between the Mirror Forest and the Memory Forest. The shapes of the trees and the surrounding landscape disappeared behind the thick cloak as if the boat was floating in the middle of an infinite white sea without reflections nor horizons.

  A shiver ran through the elf's body, and he wrapped himself even more in his green cloak of golden embroidery. It was not unusual for the temperature to drop so low every time he made the crossing, but given the attack he had suffered some days before, his body felt more sensitive than ever.

  There was a small jolt as soon as the boat touched land. Feeling a little weak, Narthoss stood up and jumped to the shore. As soon as his feet touched the damp ground, there came the whistling of a breeze that lifted the edges of his clothing and wrapped around him like a soft, tender caress. The rustling of leaves reached him from the other side of the mist signaling that the forest recognized Willondal's blood in his veins.

  The mist began to recede into the forest as if someone was pulling a delicate sheet, giving way to a dense thicket of towering trees with amber leaves and twisted trunks covered with ancient inscriptions: Mnezanthoras, guardians of the elven memory, a living archive where thoughts, memories and knowledge that the ancient elves had engraved on its grayish bark using their own blood.

  However, gaining access to them had proved to be not so easy. As Narthoss moved deeper into the forest, the leaves rustled harder and gave off a faint glow as they sensed his presence. His fingers brushed against the bark that responded to the touch by transmitting to his mind visions of past events, whispers of poetry and fragments of stories. He was able to see his grandfather strolling among the gardens of his palace, his parents' wedding being blessed by the Nymph Nemertyss, and even the giant Yorgad making his way through the trees to visit the elves while being gently scolded by them when his huge hands snapped the branches.

  But all these scenes were nothing more than jumbled bits and pieces, little clues that the trees gave him as if they were playing a guessing game. If an elf wished to access specific information, he had to spend days, weeks, months, even years, waiting for the right tree to give him permission. But if for some reason the trees turned out to be fickle that day, they were capable of driving anyone crazy by flooding his mind with facts and knowledge that even for an elf could be too much, like an alcohol that poisons the blood.

  But if there was one thing the Mnezanthoras did not want to speak of, that was the war. Both he and Phrondyr, and even Daephennya, when the Great Forest still existed, had tried to find out about the events before the Great Flood that had occurred when they were only children. Their sister, quite a bit older than the twins, who were no more than tender sprouts at the time, didn't remember much either. Phrondyr had always believed that their parents had modified their memories so that they had no recollection of those tragic days. All that had remained was the skeleton of a legend that said nothing about his family's final moments.

  As far as Narthoss was concerned, it had always been he and his siblings ruling the ancient Great Forest. Because of the dragon's curse, he could not recall seeing a single giant in person, though he knew from the Mnezanthoras that Yorgad had attended the celebration of his birth. Then came the humans who were about to ravage the forest had not the elves made a deal to grant them a tiny share of their knowledge. But then his sister, consumed by her thirst for revenge, used the humans to retaliate against the chimeras. Her sister had never endured the idea that such inferior beings, who had fought alongside the giants, could roam free in the realm while the elves were trapped by the curse.

  As a result, the bond between Daephennya and her brothers was severed and the Great Forest ceased to exist as such.

  The glow of the leaves faded briefly as Narthoss' thoughts became increasingly melancholic.

  Perhaps to console him, the trees vibrated again and flooded his mind with a series of memories where he saw himself as a child running through the forest beside his siblings; his sister, recognized at a young age for her magical arts, teaching the twins their first steps; their mother's night dances in the light of the fireflies following the tender chords of their father's lute.

  Narthoss shook his head and moved his hands away from the bark. The leaves fell silent at once.

  Only his brother Phrondyr, keeper of that ancient library, could live there alone without falling into madness.

  Not for nothing was he known as the Lonely Elf. No one else lived in the Memory Forest except him, like a wandering wraith among ruins that millennia before had been part of the great palace of king Willondal.

  Phrondyr never meddled in the affairs of his siblings, though indeed he formed an alliance with Narthoss during the massacre of the chimeras. Not because he felt any special esteem for those beings, but simply to stay on good terms with his brother. In truth, Phrondyr felt no esteem for any other being except perhaps for his twin. His only interest lay in the guarded memory of the Mnezanthoras and the sacred legacy of his ancestors. He lived in the past, unlike Narthoss who had to take care of the present and that his sister did not provoke another disaster.

  As he moved through the trees, the silhouette of the old ruins emerged through the last vestiges of the mist. The white stone walls and columns, once imposing and polished, had been devoured by moss and thorny vines. The great pointed windows, where stained glass once glowed with scenes of great elven events, were now nothing more than empty sockets gazing sadly into the forest. He avoided entering through the main entrance whose door had collapsed. He had no intention of going back through those icy corridors where the only thing that circulated was a wind that seemed to carry murmurs of times past as if the memory of the palace was still imprisoned within its walls.

  He took a shortcut through the ruins, crossing the various shady gardens that surrounded the palace. There was nothing left but parched earth and dry leaves. Gone were the golden lilies and white roses from which he had once created a wreath for his mother.

  He found his brother in the main garden, leaning against a dry fountain with a cracked base. His eyes were closed though his face was far from relaxed, as if he were in the middle of a troubled sleep. He wore as usual dark robes and, unlike Narthoss and Daephennya, whose hair was blond the color of the sun's beams, Phrondyr's was ashen as the moon's glow.

  Narthoss supposed he must have gone to sleep since the attack they had suffered. He had tried to communicate with him but never heard back. Yet it was not weird to find him in that pose. The stone floor was his brother's favorite resting place, as if he expected his body to be absorbed by the ruins.

  “Brother...” Narthoss' voice was soft. “Phrondyr...”

  His twin's eyelids fluttered. The sunlight barely reached that shadowy place, but he still found it hard to slowly open his violet eyes, and after a deep sigh he looked up at his brother.

  “If you come for answers,” said he, “it will be in vain... The trees refuse to speak.”

  “They never will.”

  “Someday, if we wait long enough.”

  “We've been having the same conversation for centuries...” Narthoss held out his hand to help him up. Phrondyr stretched to relieve the tension in his body. “What did you feel?”

  “The same as you, I suppose. A pain like no other, like I was burning alive. I've been sleeping for days now.” Phrondyr kept walking through the garden, followed by his brother. “What do you know about our sister?”

  “She doesn't respond to my calls... but that already should serve as an answer...” They both stopped in front of a delicate statue with the thoughtful figure of their grandmother, one of the few that Phrondyr had taken the trouble to restore. “The elementals have also felt it, though I don't know how much. They have not surfaced for days. The sirenians have confirmed it to me, and I am sure that both the hybrids on the island and the chimeras in the mountains have gone through the same thing.”

  “Except for the humans,” Phrondyr said.

  His twin nodded. “Then you know what I'm talking about.”

  “I don't need to consult the trees to know that someone has meddled with the dragon's seal...” Phrondyr's voice took on a dismissive tone. “Humans perhaps... Though I cannot explain how–”

  Narthoss slowly shook his head.

  “It was not humans... but a chimera... using nothing less than a fragment of elven blood and something else...”

  Phrondyr grabbed his arm.

  “How?”

  “With the help of our sister and her offspring.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “Daephennya had a daughter with the Count of Shadowrock.”

  Out of surprise Phrondyr let go and stepped back.

  “She would never–”

  “Mix her elven blood with humans? She has, and it is not hard to understand why. The girl is immune to the curse. Daephennya thought to use her to attack the human kingdom, but something has gone wrong.”

  Narthoss went on to tell his twin everything that Rovenna and Olivia had been able to reveal to him. As the narration progressed Phrondyr's weary countenance began to take on a dark tone.

  “So...” he said when Narthoss finished speaking. “The hybrids will now have a powerful weapon in their hands.”

  “The hybrids do not seek war. We don't know if they will accept Olivia either. The ones who worry me the most are those unknown beings, the witches.”

  Phrondyr shook his head. “There was never any mention of those creatures.”

  “Still, I would like you to consult the Mnezanthoras. Perhaps this time, the trees will be kind enough to help us in our urgency.”

  “I will do as you ask, but do not expect any results soon.”

  “There must be some trace. How did Daephennya manage to reach out to them? How is it that her own daughter is a witch?”

  “Her daughter...” Phrondyr mumbled with contempt.

  Narthoss understood his astonishment. He himself found it hard to understand how that had happened right under their noses. “There had to be a strange reason for the Count not to introduce his heiress to us. Now we know.”

  “He serves our sister then?”

  “According to Rovenna, he does not.”

  “And you still trust her?” Phrondyr's voice reflected the disgust he felt for Narthoss' affection for that human. He would never do anything to hurt other beings, but mixing with them was another matter.

  “Not only do I trust her,” Narthoss assured. “But I have decided that I must intervene. If we are to stop our sister, we must have an advantage she cannot match.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “What does that mean?” Phrondyr looked at him suspiciously, as if guessing the folly he was about to commit.

  “To extend her influence outside the forest, she not only made a pact with the wizards, but had a daughter with a human.”

  Phrondyr's disgusted gaze pierced through him. “Are you saying we should do the same?”

  “There is no time...” Narthoss let out a sigh. “Rovenna and I could have had a child or many more... but she was reluctant to keep her promise of returning.”

  “At least one of you was thinking clearly... So you're going to make a pact with the wizards?” That idea did not seem to please Phrondyr at all either.

  Narthoss shook his head again. “My method is much more effective.” That statement earned him another distrustful look from his brother. “I have given it a lot of thought. Rovenna does not have long to live, especially if she does not keep her promise, or if the Council decides to punish her... If I act in time, perhaps I can help her.”

  “Brother...” interrupted Phrondyr with a fearful voice.

  Narthoss paused before continuing. The dark look of his brother almost made him hesitate, but he was determined to carry on with his decision. “As soon as my body recovers, I will leave the forest to head towards Nemertya.”

  A draft exploded around them, and the shadows of the surrounding trees seemed to grow larger. However, that sudden impulsiveness caused Phrondyr to fall to his knees. Like his twin, he had not yet fully recovered. Narthoss wanted to help him up, but Phrondyr refused and turned away with a pained expression.

  When he finally spoke, his breathing was heavy.

  “You've... lost... your... mind.”

  “No.”

  “A true... elf would... never... renounce... his immortality.”

  Narthoss' gaze saddened.

  “We have lived for millennia, Phrondyr.”

  “Are you... telling me... that you are... tired... of living?”

  “No... but I've been wondering... Humans live a very short life and yet... they are able to fill it with purpose... like Rovenna... who has dedicated her life to something she considers far greater... something that far surpasses her love for me.”

  “You are... a fool... if you think... she loves... you.”

  Narthoss ignored his brother's remark. “What have we done all this time but watch from afar as the rest of the world goes on? Someone has to take care of the mess our sister is about to cause.”

  “You're... pathetic,” Phrondyr spat. “You will give up... your immortal life... a gift from the Eternals... granted... to our... noble race... for a human... whose days are already... counted.”

  “Rovenna is like a star, Phrondyr... A rebellious and fiery star... even if I have to give up everything... I want to be there when her last glow fades away.”

  Phrondyr rolled over on the floor until he was on his back. His chest heaved up and down with effort. “It's your fault... if you... wanted her... to stay so badly... you should– ”

  “Lock her up like humans do with the lovely birds?” Narthoss shook his head. “I have not come for your approval but for a favor.”

  Phrondyr raised his head in disbelief. “You... have now... the nerve... to ask... a favor of me?”

  “I have come to beg you to look after my forest and my subjects.”

  “Your subjects... they do not... tolerate me. I am... a stranger to them.”

  “They will learn to love you... It may take a couple of centuries, but I trust they will soften in time. You can hate me all you want, but spare them from your resentment.”

  “So... that's it? You came... all the way here... to say... goodbye?”

  “Not right now. First I must be sure that my power is restored.” Narthoss began to turn around to go back the way he had come. “I would like you to be there when I leave the forest. It would be much easier for everyone to make official your appointment as Lord of the Mirror Forest.”

  “I have not accepted!” Phrondyr's cry was heard like the squawk of a wounded bird.

  Narthoss turned and gave him a warm smile.

  “You are my twin. I know you won't disappoint me.” He turned his back on his brother again. “See you in a few days. I'll send for you when I'm ready to leave.”

  “Narthoss!”

  Phrondyr's desperate cries continued to echo through the forest even after Narthoss began to drift away in the boat. Although he was unwilling to turn back, every beat of his heart felt like a stab of pain.

  The next few days were spent healing his body, something that took longer than he would have liked, while arranging everything for his journey. He did not share the news of his departure with the rest of the elves, until the day before when he announced that a final farewell banquet would be held at which he would announce Phrondyr as his heir.

  The rest of the elves, barely recovered from the unprecedented illness, were once again unhappy after hearing the news. Many of them even became more daring, rebelling against their natural modesty, and begged their lord not to abandon them. It was not easy for Narthoss to listen to them. A part of him was actually afraid, something that was hard to accept, but the only way to overcome Daephennya was to be willing to sacrifice something she would never do.

  As he had told Phrondyr, a message was sent to him across the waters to announce Narthoss' departure. The ceremony began at sunset. All the elves of the forest gathered in the White Tower and there was no one who did not pay tribute to their lord in the form of gentle melodies and graceful dances. That night the food tasted sweeter and more tender to Narthoss than ever, as he wondered if human food could ever satisfy his palate. If Rovenna could have known what he thought, she would mock him.

  The ceremony went on until dawn. By then Narthoss already believed that his brother would not attend. It could be that Phrondyr thought his absence would make him change his mind, but that would do no good at all. Even if his brother was unwilling to take his place, Narthoss planned to go through with it. Sooner or later, he knew his twin's strong sense of duty would make him see reason.

  However, as the waters of the lake began to turn golden, he spotted his brother on his way up the steps of the White Tower. As soon as Narthoss saw him, her heart was reassured, knowing that his people would be in good hands.

  Phrondyr's ascent was slow, as if he wanted to delay as much as possible the meeting that finally took place on the great balcony where the ceremony was taking place. As soon as he arrived, the other elves backed away, as their brother's surly manners tended to intimidate them.

  Phrondyr stood in front of him with his hands clasped and keeping his distance.

  Narthoss bowed his head in greeting. “I'm very glad you came.”

  Phrondyr did not respond to his greeting but got straight to the point. “Is there nothing I can say to persuade you?” His face reflected a deep sadness that caused Narthoss to lower his gaze.

  “I'm afraid not.”

  Phrondyr nodded, crestfallen. “I've been giving it a lot of thought...” he said. Narthoss looked up and watched as his twin's eyes had grown darker like angry storm clouds. A strong wind picked up between them shaking his hair. “You leave me no choice.”

  Only an instant passed while Narthoss watched how small golden circles formed around his brother and took the shape of arrows that shot straight towards him. With an elegant wave of his hand he traced an arc of green light that was composed of a shield of vines. Phrondyr's golden arrows slammed into the barrier and shattered into sparks.

  The rest of the elves watched without knowing what to do. Some surrounded Phrondyr, preparing to defend their lord.

  “Do not intervene!” Narthoss ordered. “This is between him and me!” he gave Phrondyr a fierce look. “If you felt so nostalgic for our childhood duels, you could have asked nicely.”

  His brother said nothing. His gaze was confident, as if he already knew what the outcome of that dispute would be.

  Narthoss did not feel any desire to fight against him, but while he hesitated to fight back, Phrondyr conjured a spear of silver light that materialized in his hand and threw it straight towards him. Narthos' shield shattered into dark pieces that fluttered like leaves. As soon as his brother's shield crumbled, Phrondyr was already lunging at him again, but this time he was stopped by dark snaking roots that were born from Narthoss' own shadow.

  The roots clung to Phrondyr's ankles and climbed up his legs with relentless speed and strength. But Narthoss knew that it would not be so easy to defeat, as the shadows dissolved behind the bluish glow emanating from two long swords that Phrondyr brandished in his direction.

  Narthoss reacted immediately, summoning in his hands two curved swords of emerald green, like leaves forged by the wind.

  The impact of the swords resounded like thunder and raised waves of energy between them that vibrated the ground and dragged the elves who were observing from far away.

  For an instant, they both stood motionless, their faces almost touching. Their breaths were agitated, their gazes steady and charged with recriminations.

  Narthoss' lips twisted into a grimace.

  “I must say, brother, that I myself could not have planned a better farewell.”

  They engaged in a fierce dance of thrusts and blocks, each seeking the slightest opening in the other's defense. Blue and green sparks lit up the air each time their blades met, like shooting stars exploding between them. The speed of the attacks increased to the point where their bodies merged with the swords in a whirlwind of light and darkness.

  Such a dance could last a long time, but Narthoss could not wait any longer. Both brothers were in equal conditions of strength and power. The only thing that could make the difference was their cunning.

  Narthoss realized that it was his moment when Phrondyr pushed him to the edge of the balcony. He then jumped back and rushed into the void. His brother also jumped behind him.

  Still in the air, they resumed the combat, clashing swords and sliding like two leaves cradled by the morning breeze. An intense lunge separated them as an explosion pushed them in opposite directions.

  Without taking their eyes off each other they both landed softly on the surface of the lake causing delicate ripples. Narthoss's spirit calmed. Now he had the advantage.

  This, after all, was his forest.

  Beneath his feet the water released a throbbing sound. When he looked down he found his own reflection distorting into two dark shadows that were multiplying at an overwhelming speed. The reflections of Narthoss emerged from the surface and like a swarm advanced towards Phrondyr who was attacked from several points without being able to get rid of them. His swords managed to dissolve the shadows with each blow, but for each reflection he destroyed, more emerged from the surface of the water, multiplying and surrounding him with increasing speed.

  Narthoss took advantage of his brother's distraction, and with a single movement two waves rose on both sides of him until they became two giant hands that surrounded his brother and wrapped him completely forming a bubble. Phrondyr's blades dissolved as he floated inside the liquid with his eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep.

  Narthoss watched him sadly. The game was over.

  But something suddenly changed. Phrondyr's violet eyes opened and sparkled like two gems. Like a crystal ball, the surface of the bubble began to crack until it burst into a rain that covered Narthoss.

  The Lord of the Mirror Forest could not understand how his brother had been able to circumvent the waters of his domain until an amber-colored leaf crawled up to him.

  Mnezanthoras.

  Before Narthoss could understand what it meant the leaf landed on his chest and clung to him like a clawed creature. A dizzying series of images flooded his mind with the force of a stream, although it felt as sweet as a warm summer evening. Rovenna stood before him, training her magic among the trees. Her first attempts were very clumsy and weak. He watched her from a distance, with a smirk, letting out the occasional light chuckle. Rovenna, frustrated, would shoot him angry glances, her lips sealed in a rictus of impatience and rebellion. He wasted no opportunity to tease her, and she, in retaliation, kept disrespecting him with biting words, something that always amused him.

  The scene changed and they were now in the gardens of the White Tower. Rovenna was sitting on a bench surrounded by a circle of elven girls, laughing and chatting as she enjoyed the afternoon. She did not allow him to participate in these small gatherings, but from the shadows of a tree, he watched them with a mixture of curiosity and frustration.

  Then it was the night she told him with tearful eyes the story of her family and her marriage to the baron. He wanted to help her to forget. He took her by the hand and led her to the moonlit lake. Scared to death, she could not help but fear that she would fall into the water at any moment, but Narthoss held her firmly in his arms, guiding her gently and patiently as they had their first dance.

  From then on, new images followed one after the other. Rovenna practicing various crafts with the elves while meditating in silence. Both of them reading by the fire. Her joy after learning a new spell. Their innocent duels in which she could never beat him. Him teaching her to read the elven symbols. Their fingers touching each other over the pages. Their walks through the forest gathering herbs. The recurring parties Narthoss organized to cheer her up. Their first kiss. His confession. Rovenna's decision to return to the human world. Their last night. The night she said goodbye to him.

  As Narthoss' mind found its way through the memories, his mouth snapped open to inhale deeply as if all that time someone had kept him imprisoned underwater.

  “After so long, you still can't beat me.”

  Hearing Phrondyr's voice, Narthoss opened his eyes to discover that a large part of his body was covered by a rock that his brother had raised from the depths of the lake. He could not move. The only part that was free was his head.

  “That's because you're a cheater,” he replied.

  Phrondyr wrinkled his lips and raised his eyebrows. “From time to time, the Mnezanthoras grant me the knowledge of some new trick. Perks of being the Lord of the Memory Forest.”

  “You'll stay here to see that I don't escape?”, Narthoss mocked.

  “Sooner or later you will, but first you will have to solve the seals I have used to lock you up. By then, I'll be long gone.”

  Phrondyr turned and walked away across the surface of the lake.

  “Gone where?” his twin shouted. “Phrondyr!”

  “I'm sorry to make you postpone your romantic meeting, but, unlike me, you have subjects who depend on you. I hope, brother, that you will do me the favor of taking care of my forest, though I know you are not very fond of it.”

  Narthoss' body boiled with fury. If only that was enough to melt the rock that imprisoned him.

  “You said I was pathetic!”

  Phrondyr continued to walk away without looking back. “You're the one who doesn't mind risking everything for a mortal woman! As for me, I'm just saving my foolish brother!”

  “You are the foolish, Phrondyr! Come back!”

  The confrontation over, Narthoss' subjects descended from the tower but their attempts to help their lord were in vain. Phrondyr had sealed the stone with a special mechanism that was only deactivated a while later when a huge glow shone in the distance and thin beams of light snaked across the sky. It was then that the stone shattered into small fragments and Narthoss was finally free.

  But there was nothing to be done. It was too late.

  That light in the sky was the signal.

  Lord Phrondyr of the Memory Forest had now crossed into the human world.

  Thank you for reading!

  I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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