The clouds gathered in the sky, forming big thunderheads. The birds flew swiftly, searching for shelter. The trees shook in the wind; groaning. The smell of rain was in the air, crisp and cool. Aryia loved the rain; she loved the sound, smell, the tranquility of it, and the way it made her feel. Ever since she was little, Aryia would walk in the woods before the rain came. She visited the woods frequently, just to be by herself in the peace and quiet. To read, write or sing, she would spend hours just lying in the mossy grass, looking at the canopy of trees, listening to the trees talk to each other.

Her mother and father did not mind when she went on these treks, their castle was not far from where she would go. The woods were magical, deep and full of woodland creatures; Dryads, Fauns, Centaurs, Griffins, Nymphs, Faeries and tree beings. Aryia liked them all. They were all friendly to her, as she was friendly to them. The elves had an alliance with the woodland creatures, they became the guardians of the elves, some of them came to live at the castle, and some stayed in the woods, watching for unwanted enemies. The elves usually kept to themselves and often took in lost knights and healed their wounds from battle. The elves were kind hearted and peaceful beings. Trouble rarely found them, but when it did, they were more than prepared. Archery is second nature to the elves, as well as healing. The Centaurs were warriors, Fauns hunters.

Aryia placed a quilt on the ground to sit and reached in her basket to get out the jasmine tea and shortbread. “Mind if I join you?” Aryia looked behind her, Tathar was standing a few paces away from her. “Not at all,” Aryia smiled. Tathar was handsome, he was a warrior in her father’s army. His hair was silver and his eyes were ice blue. When Aryia was little, Tathar would play hide-and-seek with Aryia in the forest. He would always find her and tease her about her hiding spots. When they were fifteen, Tathar confessed his love for Aryia, and he joined her father’s army to get his approval. “No practice today?” Aryia asked. Tathar grabbed a piece of shortbread and stuffed it into his mouth. “As far as I know, no.” He said with a mouthful. “I wish you wouldn’t talk with your mouth full, Tathar.” Aryia said. “And I wish you would give me an answer, Aryia.”

“An answer to what?” Aryia asked in confusion. Tathar poured himself some tea and gulped it down before he spoke. “Your father came to me today,” Oh no Aryia thought, this isn’t going to be good. Tathar took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Aryia, we have been best friends for a long time, and as you know I am deeply in love with you and-“ he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver ring “I want you to be my wife, I want you to be mine; forever.” Aryia looked at the ring in his hand, it was silver and had tiny leaves and swirls carved into it. Aryia sighed, “it is beautiful Tathar…but I cannot accept it.” “But why? I have sacrificed my life to have your father’s approval so I could finally ask you this and you deny my love?” Tathar said and shoved the ring back into his pocket.

“I never asked you to sacrifice your life for me. Tathar, I love you dearly, but I feel I am not ready.” Aryia said and caressed his face. “I understand, my love. We needn’t hurry, we have the rest of our lives together.” He said smiling and kissed her forehead. “Well my dear, you enjoy your tea, I have a class to teach.” Tathar took one last bite of shortbread and walked away. Aryia fell back and sighed looking up at the sky. She loved Tathar, but why did she feel so alone when she was with him? The heat of the sun made Aryia sleepy; she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, she noticed the woods growing more quiet than usual, and for the first time she felt uneasy being in the woods. Aryia sat up and looked about her, and when she saw nothing she relaxed a little. She poured the tea into her silver goblet and drank, nibbling on shortbread she felt more relaxed. After she was done she set them aside and lay on her back once more to look at the trees. Even the trees were silent. She looked in between the trees, at the sky; she noticed something there, something black. Probably a bird, she thought. It was getting closer, she narrowed her eyes and saw it was definitely a bird, it had wings, but something was not right. Whatever was falling looked like it had silver, blue and black flames around it. That is strange, it cannot be she thought. As it came closer Aryia moved quickly.

Thoughts were racing through her head. What could it be, a phoenix? She hid behind an old oak tree, just in case. “Is something the matter, milady?” Tree being called Finn asked. Aryia looked behind her to see Finn standing bright-eyed and cautious. He was tall of course, and thin. He had no human flesh, just bark, branches, leaves, moss, and the occasional owl. He had a face, one that was weary and kind. Tree beings were close to harmless, unless their kin or friends were harmed. They appeared to be weak, but when threatened they were strong and angry and could smash you to bits. “Look to the sky, dear Finn, there seems to be a phoenix falling.” Aryia pointed and Finn looked, his already wide eyes grew wider and he stood at attention. “Should I catch it?” Finn asked wearily. Aryia shook her head “no, it has flames around it; you would catch fire and die.” Finn made a scared sound in his throat and nodded. “Finn, would you please fetch some water?” Aryia said. Finn nodded, “yes milady.”

Aryia watched Finn leave, and heard a big thump. The bird had fallen where she once was drinking tea and eating shortbread. She felt her heart race with each step that she took toward the bird. She got close enough to see that it was not a bird but a man. A man, surrounded by black, silver and blue flames. And what really confused Aryia was that he had enormous silver white wings. As the flames died down around him she could see him. He had hair the color of honey, and it was well past his shoulders. He was big and strong. Instantly Aryia was blushing, she felt embarrassed looking at a half naked man in the woods, one that was strangely alluring to her.

She stepped closer and noticed his wings. They were the color of her hair, silvery white and they were glowing. She gently touched them. They were warm to the touch and she could feel the energy flow through her. He was obviously an angel, but why had he fallen? She kneeled and leaned over him and put her hand on his warm chest. She closed her eyes and felt the wood’s energy pulsing through her veins, mixing with her own. She focused on his energy and how the light was slowly fading from him. She inhaled the cool air and her whole body became hot with light and she vibrated with energy.

She could feel his slowing heart, his shallow breathing, his soul. She exhaled and all of that energy that was inside her was now inside of him. She put her head on his chest, listening to his heart. His heart beat was back to normal, and his breathing too. She heard a small cry, startled, she quickly moved away and turned to see Finn with a chalice of water. She put her finger over her mouth to shush him and beckoned him to come. He obeyed and walked toward her. He handed her the chalice and she lifted the man’s head up and put the cup to his lips.

He came to and drank all of the water. Aryia ordered Finn to get more, as the man was parched. She lay his head in her lap for comfort. Involuntarily she stroked his hair, he was beautiful. His face was well structured and flawless. She hummed quietly while stroking his hair, her hand brushed against his cheek and he opened his eyes. She stopped humming and just stared into his eyes. They were green as emeralds and sparkled with life. She felt her face getting hotter by the minute. She couldn’t look away. “I have more water milady,” Finn drew nearer and saw that the angel was awake. “Well, the poor soul is awake, here have a drink.” The man got up from Aryia’s lap and took it in his hands and drank. After he was done he set it down and looked at Aryia and Finn. Aryia spoke “what is your name winged one?” He smiled at her. “I am Elijah, guardian and the angel of truth, son of Gadriel, ruler of the fifth heaven.“ Ayria and Finn looked at each other in amazement.

Finn broke the silence. “My name is Finn Pine, protector of the Darcassan elves, son of Bran Pine, protector of the tree beings.” Elijah nodded in respect and his dark green eyes looked at Aryia. “And what is your name, violet eyes?” Aryia blushed slightly. “My name is Aryia Merith, healer, daughter of Zelphar Merith, king of the Darcassan elves.” “That makes you princess of the Darcassan elves, Miss Aryia.” Elijah said in a tone that was neither nice nor hostile. “Yes, but I do not like calling attention to it.” Aryia pushed herself off the ground and went to retrieve her quilt and basket. She spread the blanket over Elijah and gave him some shortbread. “Thank you, my lady.” Elijah devoured the shortbread. “We should get you to the castle. Come on Finn; help me get him on his feet.”

Elijah found his way down the stairs into the hallway, he had no idea where to go; he just needed some air. His emotions were on edge and he wanted to fly. Something was happening to him; it felt like something was fiercely pulling at him, stretching his insides. It must be the demons, he thought. They were trying to make him become one of them, twisting his thoughts, his body. He couldn’t let them take his soul. Immersed in his thoughts he managed to get himself lost. He looked at his surroundings; a huge room with candle lit wall sconces, huge framed pictures of men, women and children, Elijah assumed the pictures were of the Darcassan families. In the middle of the room was a throne that looked to be made of some sort of bone, it took form in the shape of a tree, but the tree was purely made of celtic knots. It was truly beautiful craftsmanship. 
“It is quite something, isn’t it?” A deep voice echoed through the room, Elijah swiftly turned behind him. It was king Zelphar. Elijah hesitated and kneeled before him, the king lifted Elijah’s chin and shook his head. “No need for that…Elijah, is it?” Elijah got up and nodded, “yes…your grace.” “Will you be staying here long?” Elijah said nothing and looked at his hands. “Aryia seems to like you; though she seems to like everyone…she sees the good in them. Her heart is pure.” “Yes, she is very kind.” The king walked over to the table by one of the pictures and poured himself and Elijah a glass of wine from the flagon. “Battle is upon us, I fear we haven’t enough men. I assume you will be long gone by the time they come.” Elijah furrowed his brow and said, “With all due respect your grace; I do not see what you are getting at.” Zelphar handed Elijah the cup but didn’t let go until he was done speaking, “You will not leave until this war is over. Our people are in danger on your account, I will not have you running away from something you started, whether it is your fault or not.”
Elijah understood and nodded. “I will help defend your people, your grace.” Zelphar took a big gulp from his cup and looked at Elijah sternly, “one more thing, winged one. You will do anything in your power to protect my daughter. She is very fragile. If one of those hellions so much as scratches her I will have your head. I hope you understand.” Elijah swallowed hard; he tried not to show his fear. “Yes, your grace.” Zelphar smiled and led Elijah outside. Finally, he thought, I can breathe. Elijah walked toward the spring, and back toward the woods where he could be free and fly.
Aryia headed down to the stables where her handsome horse would be. “Falcon, I’ve brought you some apples.” She heard a neigh at the end of the stable. She smiled when she saw him, “how is my sweet prince today?” She handed him a crisp apple, he sniffed it and swallowed it whole. Aryia giggled and led him out of the stables. She geared him up and was ready to ride. She gave him a quick hug and then hopped on. She didn’t need to direct him where to go, he knew and he galloped off. Aryia loved the wind blowing through her hair; she loved the feeling of being free. Falcon jumped over a fallen tree, startled, Aryia gripped on tighter. “Be more careful, Falcon.” She said. Falcon let up and started to trot. The sky above seemed gloomy, dark clouds gathered, and the air turned cold.
Aryia pulled her cloak nearer. She heard whispers in the thicket ahead of her. She wondered if it was the Darcassan guardians. Aryia steered Falcon to the left and went up a hill, the farther they went, the deeper the woods got. By now the sky had grown darker and Aryia wished she’d brought an oil lantern. Soon there came fog and Aryia felt tired. She leaned forward and positioned herself to where she was somewhat comfortable and closed her eyes. “I am going to close my eyes for just a minute, Falcon.” Falcon snorted and soon Aryia was fast asleep.
Aryia awoke to Falcon squealing and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. “Falcon!” she hissed. He had stopped abruptly and Aryia looked around. They were still in the woods, but these woods did not look inviting. The trees had no leaves, the ground was pitch and fog was everywhere. She remembered her mother and father talk about these woods when she was little. “Sweet Aryia, never go into the dark woods, always the light.” They never spoke of what was in these woods but Aryia could sense that they were evil. She saw spirits in the fog, watching her every move. Aryia dismounted Falcon and started to walk. Falcon protested; he didn’t want to go any further. “Fine, you stay here and I will go find…something.” Aryia said. Falcon nudged her in the arm. She turned toward him and pet his velvety soft nose. “If you don’t want me to walk by myself then come with me.” He stomped his hooves in the ground and snorted. 
Aryia shrugged and walked. Falcon softly neighed and followed her close behind. The woods were so dark, she adjusted her eyes and she could see the woods as clear as day. Elves had a good sense of eyesight as well as a good sense of aim. She grunted, realizing she had no weapon to defend herself if danger came her way. With the sudden realization she grew terrified, but kept going. After walking for what seemed forever Aryia began to see a faint light ahead of her. She almost squealed from excitement. As they walked closer Aryia noticed an outline of a house in the fog. The house was small and was covered in vines and moss. Soft yellow light was coming from the windows. Aryia cautiously went up the steps and quietly knocked on the door. 
She heard movement inside and her stomach flipped. The door opened. It was a young woman, a couple of years older than Aryia. She was beautiful, her hair was auburn red and her eyes were ice blue. Aryia had not expected someone like her to live out here in the desolate black woods. Aryia stuttered, “h-hello, I am Aryia and I am a bit lost…” The woman interrupted her, “Oh dear, come in, come in! It is freezing out here.” Aryia hesitated, and then looked at Falcon. He plopped himself down on some hay. Aryia nodded and came inside. Inside the house was warm and cozy; the woman had a fire going in the fireplace. The house smelled of sage and lemongrass. “Please, make yourself at home.” The woman said and went into the kitchen.
Aryia sat on the bearskin chair in the corner by the fire, she looked around. The woman seemed to be a collector of sorts; she had jars of herbs and oddities on the mantle, various animal skins hanging on the wall and on the floor. In the corner on the right side of the fireplace Aryia saw a table; it looked like it had been carved. There were strange markings on it, almost like the one’s she saw earlier on Elijah’s back. Aryia put her hand on her mouth and got up from the chair to take a closer look. In the center of the table was a steel goblet, and red liquid in it, must be wine, she thought. To the right of the goblet was a mortar and pestle, for grinding up herbs, to the left, a crow’s skull, and below the goblet was a dagger, but what scared Aryia the most was that the dagger had what seemed to be fresh blood on it. Aryia gulped and touched the blade. The woman called out from the kitchen, startled, Aryia knocked into the table and the blade fell on the floor, the blood from the dagger got on Aryia’s white and gold gown. The blood inside the goblet sloshed around the sides and Aryia hoped the woman didn’t hear. Aryia quickly put the dagger back on the table and sat down.
“I hope you like tea.” She came out with a tray of tea and what looked like little cakes with strawberry jam in the middle. The woman sat opposite of Aryia and poured her a cup. “Thank you…I never caught your name,” Aryia sipped the tea, ginger and lemongrass. The hot liquid soothed and relaxed Aryia. “Ah, yes I do apologize, it has been some time since I had a visitor, and my manners aren’t what they used to be. My name is Moira Graylin.” “What a pretty name.” Aryia said and looked at the cakes, she wondered if the jam was really blood. Moira saw her look at them, “you can have as many as you would like. I made a big batch. They are my mother’s recipe, they are scrumptious.” Aryia half smiled and took one. As she took a bite Moira watched her intently. Aryia swallowed. Her tummy rumbled loudly in the silence. Aryia was mortified. Moira giggled, “you must be hungry, I’ll fix some soup, come.” Aryia followed her into the kitchen; it was small and had more jars of herbs. 
“So, tell me how you managed to get yourself all the way here, Aryia.” The way she said Aryia’s name gave her chills, she was like a snake. “I was just riding my horse in the woods and I just closed my eyes for a moment…” Aryia looked out the window, outside was black, the only light was inside the house, the moon and stars. Her parents must be worried sick, “I better get home, my parents are probably worried.” Moira looked up from cutting squash. “Nonsense, stay for dinner, rest up, and then we will head out.” “I hate to intrude…” Moira continued chopping away. “I insi-ssst.” Aryia got gooseflesh, she sounded like a hissing snake. Still looking out the window, Aryia sighed heavily. Moira looked at her with concern. “What is the matter?” Aryia shrugged, never looking away from the window.
“Something is weighing on your mind, child. What is it?” “I was in the woods yesterday, and I found something…someone; a fallen angel. I healed him, and took care of him, and he just disappeared after saying horrible things to me.” Moira’s eyebrow lifted, she was definitely interested in what Aryia had to say about the angel. “So, a love interest, huh?” Aryia glared at her, “that’s absurd, I only met him yesterday and he is rude.” Moira turned serious, “his soul is slowly being ripped from his core, darkness is seeping into his heart, he cannot help his outbursts.” Aryia felt guilty. “I can see you are drawn to him.” Aryia blushed, she couldn’t deny it. “I see his heart…I felt his heart, he is troubled, but his heart is good.” Moira nodded, after putting all the ingredients in the pot she put it on the fire and sat down. “Just be careful, love can be foul.” Moira said with a malicious grin. Aryia looked at Moira cautiously, Moira just smiled.

After dinner Aryia went to see Falcon. He jumped up and nuzzled her face. She laughed and hugged him. She grabbed some carrots from the kitchen before she came outside. Falcon whinnied and snorted happily. Aryia looked back at the house and saw Moira in the living room looking at her creepy altar. She was mixing something in the mortar and pestle. Aryia hoped it was just herbs for tea. Aryia looked to the sky and saw a shooting star. She closed her eyes and wished upon it then opened her eyes again; her face was full of disappointment as she realized it wasn’t a shooting star but Elijah flying over her. “Oh, Elijah.” She said, sighing. She heard a flap of wings behind her “yes?” Aryia turned in surprise, he was glowing and had a grin on his face. “How did you-where have you—“ “Ever since you did your elf-voodoo thing in the woods everything is heightened times a billion, and also I guess we are kind of connected somehow, well-could be because I am an angel and it is my duty to be a guardian-or it was your magic that…” he trailed off.
“What?” Aryia asked, purely interested. He hesitated for a moment then spat it out, “bound us.” Her heart fluttered at those words. He looked at his feet, “listen, Aryia, I want to apologize for the way I acted earlier. It was cruel of me. My intentions are not to hurt you, but to protect you. You saved my life, and I am forever in your debt.” Aryia smiled and replied, “I forgive you, Elijah, your soul is being ripped from you slowly, you cannot control your emotions. It’s okay I understand.” Elijah sighed and turned away. Aryia wanted to embrace him, to let him feel her energy, let him know everything would be all right. Just do it, Aryia! She took a deep breath. “Elijah?” he turned toward her, she stepped closer. Tears were streaming down his face and he tried to hide them by quickly wiping them away. His eyes wandered around, he didn’t look at her. He was embarrassed. 
Aryia put her hand on his cheek and wiped away a tear. She cupped his face in her hands, and at that moment, she wanted so badly to kiss him. She smiled at him, hoping for a smile back. He closed his eyes, lips quivering. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. He hugged her back. He caught a whiff of her hair, smelled of lavender. He felt her warmth and her energy. He didn’t want to let go. She pulled away, looked into his eyes and whispered “everything is going to be all right, Elijah.” He smiled a half smile, “I hope so.” The door to the house slammed and startled both of them. Moira was on the porch heading toward them. “Well, this must be Elijah.” She said with a grin. “Aryia and I were just talking about you, please, come in, have sss-some tea.” Elijah looked at Aryia and she nodded. 
Moira poured some tea and sat near Elijah. Aryia didn’t like the way she was looking at him, or the way she spoke to him. Aryia took a sip of the tea, it tasted different from the kind she had earlier, it almost tasted sour. Elijah took a sip and made a face. “Do you like the tea?” Moira asked with a gleam in her eye. He swallowed hard and shook his head. Aryia’s eyes felt heavy, she dropped the cup and it clanged against the floor. Her body went numb and she couldn’t move. “What…did…you…do?” Aryia managed to say but she was soon out cold. 
Aryia opened her eyes, her vision was blurry and she had an awful headache. She felt the cold of the night. In the distance she heard Falcon screaming. She tried to look to see where she was but all she could see was orange. Fire, she thought. She heard footsteps coming her way. The figure was sideways, Aryia was laying face down on the ground. Moira. She kneeled down and touched Aryia’s face. “I hope you like sleeping, because you will never wake up.” She laughed maniacally. Aryia felt her eyes close again. The last thing she heard was Moira speaking in latin, Aryia couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the last thing she heard was Diabolus; devil.

 

Ayria, blurry eyed and groggy awoke feeling sick to her stomach. She slowly got up and stumbled, her legs felt like lead. Her head was throbbing and she could feel the bile in her throat rise. She fell to her knees and wretched. Hot tears stung her fair cheeks. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and looked around her. The air was grey with smoke, the place where the cottage was, was nothing but a charred mess. She burned it so that no one would believe me... she thought. She frantically searched for Elijah but he was nowhere to be seen. She managed to get to her feet. She brushed the dirt from her gown and yelled for Falcon. Her throat ached, as well as her whole body. She stood alone, cold and terrified. She wanted so much to get home to her parents, her home.  All of this was too much for her to take.  Nothing bad ever happened to the Darcassan Elves.  Nothing bad ever happened to her.  Aryia plopped down and cried.  Her mother was right, she was naïve, and she was fragile and unprepared for what was to come.  How could she ever become a queen and lead her people when she was weak and a coward?  She wished so much to be like her mother; strong and fearless. 

            Aryia looked up at the sky, through the smoke she could see birds flying in the sun.  She whistled, hoping that one of them would answer her back.  One of the birds whistled back at her and swooped down to where she was.  The bird sounded like an eagle, but when the bird descended toward Aryia it wasn’t just a bird, it was a Griffin, a beautiful white Griffin.  It had the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle and sharp talons.  The flapping motion of its wings made the dirt and smoke swirl around Aryia and it stung her eyes.  She coughed and crossed her arms, covering her face in defense.  The Griffin landed in front of her and bowed its head.  Aryia slowly reached her hand out to pet its furry head.  Its hair was thick and course and had spots of black mixed in with the white.  He was truly magnificent.

            Aryia had only ridden on a griffin once before with her father when she was a little girl.  She remembered how much fun she had when they were up in the air.  The Griffons were her father’s favorite creature and they were chosen to be mounts of the Guards.  Aryia climbed and straddled the Griffin.  She grabbed his fur and held on tight.  The griffin started to gallop and then he was flapping his wings.  They ascended into the air swiftly, the brisk wind stung Aryia’s face.  Aryia buried her face into the neck of the griffin and slept.  She dreamt of fire and war, of her father and his army sword fighting evil.  There were too many of them and not enough Darcassan soldiers to defeat them.  There was a bone shattering shriek that came from the sky, and through the smoke and flames came a huge dragon, one that was dark as night and as big as a castle.  His eyes burned red with fury and his sharp teeth were dripping with the blood of its foes. The dragon landed on the ground, inches from Zelphar.

 As the smoke started to clear, a figure formed on the dragon’s head.  It was cloaked, only a shadow.  The figure stepped forward and took off their cloak.  The Darcassan army yelled in an uproar when they saw who it was, and the evil creatures hissed and cheered.  It was Moira.  Her gown was as red as the dragon’s eyes; her head was adorned with a crown of twisted bone.  She laughed maniacally, “you fools. Do you really think you can beat the darkness? So few of you and so many of us-sss.”  She stepped down from the dragon’s head and walked toward Zelphar.  “I will make you a deal, king.” She spat.  “If you can beat my best strongest soldier I will let you and your people live. And if you don’t, I will take over your land, and you and yours will live…elsewhere.”  She smiled as if she was leaving out major details.  King Zelphar spoke, “who will I have the pleasure to fight?” 

Moira chuckled. “Oh, Elias!” Lightning cracked and the sky lit up, thunder roared and in the sky there appeared a winged creature, and as the creature came into view, Zephar gasped.  There, standing in front of Zelphar was a man with blue black wings and his skin was pale grey with black markings all over his body. His hair was glowing silver.  He stood at least six feet tall and his eyes were black as pitch. He opened his mouth and he bore fangs.  “We meet again, elf.” Elias’ voice echoed.  The king drew his blade “indeed we do, Elijah.”