Page 3

Killing Akares

“ W hat do you want, Keelan?”

The stick slices through the air. I spin, roll across the ground, and attack the thick branch, an opponent that must die. As I practice my agility and accuracy, the cold breeze bites at my damp skin, and my wheezing lungs exhale steam that looks like rain clouds into the chilly air.

“That wasn’t very nice, you know,” Kelandil Llaeyenit points out from behind.

I hit the branch harder with my stick. In the distance, the landscape stretches out, soft and white, like sugar dusted across a baker’s board.

The eucalyptus and pine forest, a deep, spinach-green, forms a protective wall against the outside world.

Far beyond, dark-blue and black mountains loom, their peaks cloaked in white—wild, dark, and brooding.

“I’m not a very nice elf, am I?”

“You’re grumpy.”

Everything here is enormous. The tree trunks are as wide as twenty sun elves laid head to toe.

The animals are tall and stately, and the landscape is breathtaking, with valleys, mountains, ravines, and gorges stretching as far as the eye can see.

I would’ve loved to live here if the war hadn’t cast its shadow over us, like a solar eclipse.

In Aarilion, the sun is weak, its magic and light nearly extinguished.

“Very attentive of you, Keelan,” I mumble.

“Why are you so grumpy?”

We’re sun elves. We need the sun to function, to bring out our abilities, to walk and run and live. We need the sun the way all creatures need food and water.

“Can you look at me?” Keelan asks.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Some of us, like Naeva Vínnoel, are more affected by the constant darkness.

I’m one of the lucky few who feel it less.

Every day, the sun appears briefly at midday, its light barely piercing through the thick blanket of clouds.

Then dusk arrives and steals it away. Day after day, night after night, it’s the same. No heat, no summer.

Our seasons are Orethres, the deep blackness; Llyavesamsa, the long winter; and Na’elalirith, the falling leaves. Each one brings snow, darkness, and subzero temperatures. The magic has never been weaker.

“Iszaelda.”

I sigh and turn around. “Yes? What is it?” My lip curls as I glance at him.

In the dim light, Keelan’s hair frames his face like wild, flowing seaweed, a thin band of twisted leaves resting on his forehead.

“Why are you so grumpy, kindred?” he asks, bright green eyes wide with confusion beneath his straight brows.

“If you had to guess, what do you think?”

“Tell me.”

“As you wish. You and Aeralon tried to pull me away from Garalas, as if I were a child of three sun cycles. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Calm down. We didn’t want you to be seen.”

I turn away and strike the thick bark, sending splinters flying. My body vibrates with each heavy blow.

“I understand, but it’s not your decision. It’s mine.” My voice shakes with the strain of my outburst.

Keelan steps over, kicks the stick aside, and grips my shoulders. “Hey, I’ll remember that next time.”

“You didn’t come to reprimand me, like everyone else?”

His laugh is loud and snorting, like a boar’s piglet. “Not this time.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Dúera e ambra ‘Krosno isn’ar a.” You are a strong warrior.

“Stop. You’re being sarcastic. And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’re moody today.”

He moves closer, too close. My nostrils fill with the scent of sweet honey and leather as my back presses against the branch.

Keelan leans in, his tight-fitting, earthy-brown leather brushing against my chest. The light linen fabric grazes my bare neck, and the frozen wood creaks beneath his weight.

I nudge him. “For all the fires, I’m not moody!”

“No?”

He runs his fingers along my jaw, locking eyes with me. His pointed ears are exposed, and I stare at them as he presses his body even closer. His breath is hot, stinging my skin like nettles.

“What in the fires do you want, Keelan? I’m not in the mood.” I push down the nausea rising in my stomach.

I can’t breathe. I need space.

“Not in the mood for what?”

“For—”

He presses his lips against mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

I slap him hard across the cheek.

“You hit me?”

“You kissed me!” My voice is hoarse. He’s kissed me before, but never like this, never without asking.

“So what?”

“So what!” I punch the air, my hands ready for another slap.

He backs off. “We’re promised. We are supposed to kiss. We should want to?—”

“We’re not doing anything.”

“Last time?—”

“I wasn’t moody, was I?”

He rubs his cheekbone with his fingertips, looking as if he doesn’t understand.

“One piece of advice,” I hiss. “Don’t kiss someone who’s moody. You might end up getting hurt.”

“But—”

“But what, Keelan?”

I roll my eyes and lean against the branch I’ve mangled. I might as well stand comfortably if he’s about to tell me his life story. The bark is rough and flaky under my palm, unmoved by my weight.

“We haven’t kissed in a long time, you know.”

“And maybe there’s a reason for that.”

“What are you talking about?” He stares at me, bending his fingers in the wrong direction until they crack. The sound makes me shudder.

I pick up the long stick again, shaking it hard to rid it of the snow clinging to it like a tight dress.

I plant one end on the ground and rest the other under my chin.

“We shouldn’t feel like it’s been forever since we kissed, and only kiss because it feels like we have to. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“That’s how it is, though. What are we going to do about it?” He presses a finger to his temple, pulling the skin until his eye narrows into a slit.

“Here’s an absurd thought. Maybe we shouldn’t be together?”

Keelan’s body stiffens, and he blinks several times before taking a few quick steps across the snow, which crunches beneath his feet. “How can you say that?” he mutters, his gaze fixed on the ground.

I turn and strike the stick against the tree branch again.

“You can answer me, can’t you?” he presses.

The sound of wood hitting wood echoes around us.

“We’ve been promised since we… were five!”

“Everybody has been,” I say through clenched teeth.

“The sun chose us. Sesta itself chose us. The goddesses Sakelia and Elda, along with the sun’s rays, shone first on me, then on you. Don’t you remember?”

Wood chips fly in all directions. “There was hardly any sun that day. The few rays that broke through were probably defective, don’t you think?”

“We belong together, you and I.”

“Like kinsmen, sure. We’re good friends, aren’t we?”

“You can’t break the bond. Those who are promised are promised forever.”

The branch creaks under the force of my blows, on the verge of giving way.

“Do you hear me?” Keelan continues. “We can’t?—”

“There are ways. I’ll ask Panrielya.”

“No, Iszaelda!” He grabs my shoulders, spinning me around, forcing me to meet his gaze.

How dare he touch me? He knows how I feel about that.

His eyes glisten like those of a baby rabbit, and his lips tremble like those of a small child. Sesta!

“Don’t you want to be with someone who loves you just as much?” I ask derisively, trying to ignore the sting of his fingers digging into my collarbones. The sensation sends shivers down my spine, like thousands of earthworms crawling beneath my skin.

“It’s you I want to be with. And who else would you be with if not me?”

“I don’t know.” My jaw clenches, straining to endure his touch. It’ll soon be over. “Let go of me!”

“You don’t know?” His shoulders slump.

The wind whistles through the snow crystals caught in the vines, sending them soaring over Keelan’s chest.

“I wouldn’t choose anyone else. I’d be alone.”

“All women must?—”

I hiss at him. “All the women here, all the women there. I’m fiery tired of hearing that.” I try to wriggle free, but his fingers tighten in an ironclad grip, nails digging into my muscles. “Let go of me, Keelan!”

“Don’t you see? I’ll end up all alone!”

“For all the fires, let go!”

“Everyone’s taken. Already promised.”

I attempt to twist out from under his grip and step back, but he follows, holding me so tightly I can’t escape.

If anyone understands what I’ve been through, it’s him. He’s the only one who knows the truth. So why won’t he let go?

“There are other villages, aren’t there?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Other places that don’t have the same rules. After the war?—”

“Should I have to wait until then to be joined?”

His lips press into a thin line as he looks out toward the cliff and the wild nature beyond. Around us, a network of vines and snowclad branches hangs like a frozen web. High above, the jagged peaks of the forest form a sea of ice.

I seize the moment, pushing his hands away and finally breaking free of his grasp. My shoulders throb as I quickly back away. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re cold-hearted.” He rubs his rosy hands, still looking away.

“Sorry, Keelan.” I soften my tone, trying to sound sincere. “I didn’t mean to be.”

“You seem angrier than usual. If that’s even possible.”

He walks toward the tree trunk, vanishing from my view.

I sink to my knees, burying my hands in the cold, slushy ground. I don’t want to lose Keelan, too. I have so few friends left. Could I learn to love him the way he deserves to be loved?

Oh, I can’t bear it. I don’t care.

I stand, return to the branch, and continue my assault, this time with my fists. The pain is sharp as my knuckles are scraped bare, but I keep going.

It must’ve been easier in the past, before the war.

Before we had to hide, living in locked-down villages.

Back when we thrived in mighty cities with floor-to-ceiling glass walls offering views of raging waterfalls, sloping cliffs, towering mountains, and bottomless valleys.

When we wore clothes of silk, jewelry of Delarian silver, and shoes of Vasvinennian glass.

Our crown city was Insisriel, located in the southeast, near Eytherthlarn, the eternal forest. My ancestors lived there.

My family and many of the elves I know today lived there.

We had professions, roles to fill. We lived in peace and were happy.

It was sunny and warm, and in those days, we weren’t hunted.

Now everything is different. All the cities are gone.

Insisriel, Tella, Saewyn, and Aevamer no longer exist. Some have been rebuilt under new names, with new owners.

The only true city left is the tree elves’ crown city of Talador, far on the southeastern tip of the country.

So far, we haven’t heard if the war has reached it, if it’s been taken over.

But it’s only a matter of time. The star elves, under their ruler Akares Dorne, now control the remaining cities.

Akares . The one who exterminated the sea and wind elves intends to do the same to us and the tree elves.

Once, we were all interconnected, a single, powerful elvish race.

Stronger than any other species in Sarador.

But when the balance was disturbed, the goddesses divided us into our elements, believing we would complement each other.

One race split into five: sun elves, tree elves, star elves, sea elves, and wind elves.

Those who lived in the deserts and sunny plains became sun elves, while those in the deep forests became tree elves. Dwellers of cold, dark caves became the star elves. Those who’d settled near water became sea elves, while mountain inhabitants became wind elves.

Together, they were strong. With an elf from each race, they could bend nature to their will. Divided, they were weaker. The idea was that when split into five, they would have to work together to wield the most powerful magic.

But the star elves grew tired and greedy. They broke free and declared war on the rest of us. With each race they exterminated, the remaining ones grew stronger. The star elves grew more potent. And now, they’re coming for us.

It was Akares who made sure the sun weakened. It’s his fault we live in an endless winter of darkness, in trees instead of cities. His fault that Naeva is sick. She won’t survive another sun cycle without sunlight. The only way to save her is to end the war.

To kill Akares.

I throw my weight into the stick, striking it violently against the thick branch. Wood chips scatter at my feet, the scent of fresh sap filling my nostrils like water filling a vessel. It mingles with the faint smell of the frozen forest, of crisp air, damp snow, and frostbitten moss.

The peaceful, muted sound of nothing.

I strike again. And again. And again. Pretending the branch is Akares.