The Elf King's Shadow

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, or so the saying goes. And while this may seem a snippet of profound advice, in my case it came to fruition in ways I never could have anticipated. I was raised for times such as these. Some may even go so far as to say my destiny was predetermined generations before my inception and subsequent birth, and while I resisted this notion with all I had in me from the moment I was old enough to speak my mind, I look at what lay before me and realize they were right all along. This was who I was always going to be, and now it is all I can do not to crumble under the weight, to succumb to the pressure of being the daughter of an elf king several centuries into his illustrious reign.

For you see, it was my father, King Gowan, who had delivered the final blow and subsequent lasting peace treaties with the vampire clans of the north. Before my father, the wars seemed never ending. Two immortal factions vying for a foothold in the old country, both equally unwilling to compromise when in reality there was more than enough land and resources for us all to live lavishly for centuries to come. King Gowan came to power at just eighty years old. I’m sure to a human it seems odd to call eighty years of age young, but when you are immortal as we are, eighty is only a beginning. Perhaps his youth was what granted him an uncommon ability to see peace where others saw mistrust and violence. But his age is not the core of what has made my father so beloved. My grandfather and the longest ruling member of our clan, King Ophir, was out on a mission to visit the outlying villages of his kingdom. The ones who had been hit the hardest by the hundreds of years at war needed to see that their king had not forgotten them, and so King Ophir packed up and headed onwards with a smaller than advised travel party to spend a month amongst his people. My father, though known to be an overwhelming optimist, begged King Ophir to rethink his plans, offering to lead the travel party himself with the addition of a dozen of the kingdoms best spies at their behest. For what King Ophir did not realize is the outlying villages had grown weary of feeling themselves ignored, discarded and undervalued and in their anger, had formed an alliance with a small faction of illustrious vampires.

What the Chamillet clan lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in mythos and unmatched abilities. For the Chamillet clan had one thing no other vampire family had attained; magic the likes of which only a select few elves had mastered. The head of the family, Sheelin, was of elfin birth but had found herself falling in love with a vampire named Orna. The families raged upon discovering the girls torrid affair and in their anger, attempted to rip them apart.

Orna’s family was all but decimated by Sheelin’s four brothers after Orna, the most powerful amongst them, was lured away after receiving a forged letter asking her to meet at their favorite tree beside the hanalei river. It took some time for Sheelin to convince Orna she had nothing to do with the rouse, that she would take her life before she would ever dream of betraying her love. To which Orna of course scolded Sheelin for being so flippant about the value of her life. The two made informal vows to one another that day, forming their own clan and set out deep into the arikaree forest to start their new lives together.

Over time, Orna and Sheelin would take in six other vampires and three elves who had each been cast out and declared unfit to carry their family names for one reason or another, and so the Chamillet clan was born. As stories of their abilities and ruthlessness spread, so too did the wariness of King Ophir. He knew what few would bother to recognize, for it would require elves and vampires alike to take stock of their own morals and values. The Chamillet family was powerful, yes, but the tales of their ruthlessness had been vastly exaggerated and spread far and wide by the families who had disowned them in response to the outrage in each community the nine outcasts had belonged to. For it is not a fate dolled out lightly in either species, yet these nine families had done exactly that. Discarding their children for lack of understanding and unwillingness to change or grow, the retaliation was swift and harsh, seeing several families nearly wiped out in an effort to remove and retain the integrity of all respective clans. But as is often the case, it was far easier to convince the world it was these outliers, these few children of the night hidden away in the arikaree forest practicing forbidden magics, that they were the perpetrators.

With this understanding of factors, King Ophir declined his sons’ offer of protection and set out on his tour of the villages that needed him most. Not accustomed to being told no, Prince Gowan set out in secret with three of their best spies and his closest friends. All was well until they reached the final village on the tour. The village, which had aligned with the Chamillet clan some months prior, had caught wind of Prince Gowan and his spies and viewed the intrusion as a blitz attack after having been vocal about their anger with King Ophir. They had been unwilling to send any of their sons or daughters to serve in his army as tradition dictated. Fearing retribution, the village begged the Chamillet clan for protection and by the time King Ophir and his caravan reached the outskirts of town, they were ambushed.

As King Ophir lay dying in Prince Gowan’s arms, he pulled his son close and left him with a lesson he would carry on long into his rule, “It does not one speck of good to see only the bad in others. Choose instead to see the beauty in difference, my son. Believe in the unbelievable.”, and with a few more gasping breaths, the king was gone. In his grief, the now King Gowan promised revenge against not only the Chamillet clan but the eleven families who had cast out their children and caused the clan to be formed in the first place. And so for the next two hundred years, war continued to dominate the land. Fathers turned against sons, daughters against mothers, anyone who was suspected to have been affiliated with the Chamillet clan was a target. As time went on however, King Gowan’s heart began to heal in ways only love can usher in. First with the love and understanding guidance of his wife, Queen Elaria and further with the birth of his son Prince Javaid. By the time I was born, my father had loosened restrictions, called off his forces as each area was brought to peace, and signed the treaty we live under today on my fiftieth birthday. My father called me Ololara, meaning ‘born at the right time’ for that was exactly how I came to be. I was the last push he needed to return to that once soft hearted, optimistic elfin prince who saw the potential for good in the world.

As I concealed myself within the base of a tree deep inside the arikaree forest, measuring my breath so as to not give away my location, I was reminded of the tales we told one another as children about the Chamillet clan. In spite of my father attempting to dispel these myths, I retained the mythos as though the stories were some conspiracy hidden away from our view in order to make it all the more alluring. We viewed ourselves as truth seekers and deemed ourselves fit to explore exactly how true the stories had been. And so when Imogen dared me to blindfold myself and ride as deep into the forest as I dared, I had not hesitated to take up the challenge. For what was there to fear? My father had never been one to lie to me and so while I enjoyed the games I played with my friends as we would take turns pretending to be magic wielding vampires, that playfulness vanished when my horse Meira bucked me off, sending me catapulting down the side of a steep ridge. Moments after she vanished from sight, I could feel the ground quake as a group of horses approached, and so hiding inside of the base of a massive tree was the only option I could think of in the moment, holding my breath as the horses past.

“You know, you picked probably the worst place to hide. That is, unless you are fond of being engulfed by a horde of hoop snakes?” Her voice was alluring and smooth in a way I had never—wait did she say snakes?

I shot out of my hiding place as though propelled via cannon, just in time to hear the thrashing of hoop snakes surfacing from their burrows within the base of the tree, and there she was not but a few feet in front of me. As glorious if not more so than her voice had been, the smirk that danced across her face threatened to melt me into a puddle where I stood. “I um…I’m not exactly the biggest fan of snakes. I appreciate the warning, but I best get going.” As I turned to leave, “Going so soon, princess?” her voice stopped me dead in my tracks. Was she calling me princess because she knew who I was? Or was she simply poking fun at the way I had all but leapt out of my own skin, shaking out my pants and flowing tunic to be certain I had not brought any stowaway snakes along for the ride? I had to admit that if the roles had been reversed, I’m certain I'd have had a good chuckle at her expense at the very least.

She took a few steps forward, her legs seeming to go on forever, easily closing the gap between us. It was only then that I noticed the orange tones swirled in with the deep brown of her eyes. The intensity was nearly enough to suck the air from my lungs once again, but I had to maintain my composure. I was an elfin princess lost deep in a forest the treaties dictated I was never to set foot in, she was a vampire and based on our location, most likely a member of the Chamillet clan. I decided to attempt to press her, to see what it was she did and did not know already. Clearing my throat as I often do when nervous, “I um, what did you mean when you called me a princess exactly? Because I can assure you, in spite of my previous blunder, I am not some damsel in distress.”, her hand slowly reaching upwards, I caught myself just after I flinched. The way her face dropped was enough to break my heart, in spite of having only met her mere moments before. Speaking rapidly, “I’m sorry. It isn’t you, it is absolutely me. I’m just a bit of a skittish person is all and we only just met, so you will have to forgive me for reacting to your hand. I only—“, her hand had returned to its previous motion, softly grazing my curls and then just as quickly retreating.

“Only removing a leaf from your hair, love. No need for dramatics. And no, I don’t think you’re a damsel in distress. You’re a princess in distress. There’s a big difference, right Princess Ololara?” Before I could turn to run, her hand firmly grasped my arm, “There’s truly no need princess and I…I apologize if I frightened you.” Her hand dropping, I still wanted to run but something in her voice had set me at ease. As fast as I was, she would always be faster. If she had wanted to devour me, she could have done so several times over by now or hell, she could have let me be overtaken by the hoop snakes. But she hadn’t. She had been calm, measured and patient with me and so perhaps it was my turn to allow her the benefit of the doubt.

“So tell me, what exactly is the princess of the south doing inside our humble arikaree forest, hmm? Thought you’d get yourself a taste of the fabled vampire clan?” I wanted to shoot back at her, put her in her place. For even amongst these trees, there was still an order to things. I was still an elfin princess and she, I assumed, a Chamillet. Though I had encroached upon their territory, there was a reverence and respect granted members of my family. But she didn’t seem to care about any of that and she certainly didn’t fear me in the slightest. Before I could say anything, a woman dressed in white appeared behind her and as perfect as she was to me, this woman was more sculpture than living being. It was as though her eyes could see through me, taking me in from head to toe and back up again, leaving me feeling naked and vulnerable. I felt the danger, the unpredictable nature of her energy rising to the surface and as she moved a step closer it was all I could do not to drop to the ground like a child afraid they were about to be punished.

“How many times must I tell you not to play with your food, Haizea?” Her eyes remained locked on me another moment before shifting to the younger vampire, the intensity only growing stronger as their eyes locked for what seemed like minutes but was in actuality less than a few seconds. They must be telepathic, I thought to myself only to quickly stop because hello? If they are telepathic the last thing I needed was for them to realize I’d caught on. But it was too late. “We are in fact able to read thoughts, child. Which means you needn’t concern yourself with explaining who you are nor your reasons for being where you ought not be. What would your precious King Gowan have to say, Ololara? How would he feel knowing his only daughter had laid herself at the mercy of the famed Chamillet clan for nothing more than a childish dare? A dare levied by a friend who does not seem at all concerned by your continued absence.” Haizea turned to face her full on, taking a long moment to steady herself as even she seemed to fear this woman in white. “As we know who she is and why she is here, should we not send her on her way? Or do you wish to see a return of the great wars, mother?” The woman cocked her head at the word ‘mother’, seeming both intrigued and surprised at Haizea for having used such a term. “My child, do not forget your place. You know as well as I we will do as the treaty demands. After all, if she were any other elf would we be sending her along her way? Would we not seek atonement for her intrusion?”

For a brief moment I was certain the two would break out in some sort of fight for dominance, with me as the prize awarded to the winner. But at the last second, Haizea simply sighed, took a step towards me and clasped her hand around my upper arm. I heard her whisper an apology, only to realize her mouth had not moved. Great, she was inside my mind now and wanted me to know it. I attempted to put on a brave face and keep my mind as clear as possible so as to not let on to either of them how terrified I was. But my mind had never been one much accustomed to stillness. Not one to do much of anything as tradition dictated, or by way of common sense according to my older brother Javaid, I would find myself lost in a maze of my own making. Where most would be concise and sure footed, I would take the so called “scenic route” more often than not. But it was how I had been born and in times of great stress or when my anxiety would rage on, these twisting and winding thoughts would take on a life of their own.

As we approached a clearing in the center of the arikaree forest, it was all I could do not to allow my jaw to audibly drop as I attempted to take it all in. Here, tucked away at the heart of the forest, was an entire community. A gorgeous village with an illustrious manor on a raised foundation in the center. As we approached the center of what appeared to be the village market, more and more vampires and elves walked to the openings of their shops and stands to get a glimpse of me, I assumed. But as I looked closer, their eyes were transfixed on the woman in white. Haizea sat me down on the edge of a gorgeous fountain. At the center was a stunning sculpture of two women, one vampire and one elfin, forehead to forehead as they held one another. All at once I realized exactly who the woman in white was. I had been captured by Orna Chamillet herself, and what appeared to be her daughter. I was not sure how that was possible, but I was not going to allow myself the mental freedom in order to attempt to piece it all together. Only I was too late, hearing Haizea in my mind once more. “Yes, she is my mother in the traditional sense and no, I will not go into detail of how I was conceived. Magic is magic, now be still princess.”

Before I could protest or push back, a woman in a mossy green and flowing traditional elfin dress came gliding towards us. While elves are known for their gracefulness, something about her was different. The stillness and ease with which she approached was closer to a dance than walking. I knew from our teachings this was Sheelin, the elf who fell in love with a vampire and chose love over her own kind. While I had never understood her choosing to abandon her family, the moment I witnessed their love, their connection, I knew all at once it was a love unlike any I’d seen. Sheelin pressed her forehead to Orna’s a moment before allowing their noses to touch as they took a deep inhale and exhale together in time. The breath exchange, known simply as breath of life or ha, was a symbol of unity passed down through a line of elves hailing from a distant island in the pacific ocean. Sheelin sharing this with Orna symbolized a great deal of mutual respect and absolute equality, and as I took them in another moment longer, I wondered how the stories we had been told about these two star-crossed lovers could have been so wrong. How it could be they were able to build an entire community in this forest and go from eleven members to what must have been hundreds.

Turning her attention to me, I felt a warm calmness wash over my entire body as her voice settled upon my ears. “You have nothing to fear, my child. No harm will come to you during your stay with us here in Cimarron.” Before I could catch myself, I quickly fired back, “I won’t be staying here and as much as I appreciate what your daughter did for me, I must be getting back home before I am missed.” and with that, Orna was inches from my face. “You will forgive us if we don’t share your urgency, Princess.” In the time it took Orna to speak the words through gritted teeth, Sheelin was beside her, a hand gently resting on Orna’s forearm as they exchanged a few words telepathically.

Taking me by the hand, Sheelin guided me forward and up the cobblestone path to the manor at the center of the village. “What you must understand Princess Ololara, is that you have already been missed. When you did not return, your friend Imogen ran back to the castle to alert your personal guard and subsequently your father, of your whereabouts. We must keep you here in the manor, our home, tucked away safely while Orna and myself do what we swore we never would. We will ride out of the sanctity of this forest we have called home, in order to meet with your father in hopes we are not too late. For you see, the penalty for crossing into the Arikaree forest without permission, for trespassing essentially, is death.”

All at once the pressure in my chest grew to be almost unbearable. We had not been taught any such part of the treaty between the Chamillet clan and my father’s kingdom, only told myths and campfire stories as a way to allow fear to outweigh any curiosity or notion of sneaking into the forest. On a dare, I may have propelled us all back into the throws of war and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I sat in the stone archway of the window of the bedroom I was to be locked in. Orna volunteered Haizea’s room and Haizea herself as my personal jailer. Looking down, I watched as Orna and Sheelin mounted their horses, joined by three elfin and two vampire members of their all female guard. The seven of them rode off to attempt to undue what I’d so clumsily done and as I felt Haizea’s anger as she perched on the bed behind me, it was all I could do not to audibly sob as tears stung my cheeks. All at once I took in the fact that this gorgeous woman I stumbled upon, a woman who owed me nothing but had begged her mothers to let me go rather than heading off themselves, may have just seen them alive for the last time. If my father assumed me dead, his rage would know no bounds. Not even mother would be able to squelch him.

“I hope your little dare was worth all of this, princess. Worth the lives that may now be lost, beginning with my mothers.” The pain in Haizea’s voice was raw, unrestrained, and yet all I wanted to do was hold her and simultaneously comfort her while begging for her forgiveness.

It went on this way for three weeks. For three weeks we did not know if troops would storm Cimarron, destroying the sanctuary love had built. But as time went on, Haizea softened. While I did not share her optimism, she assured me things were going as well as could be hoped for. When I finally got up the nerve to compile a well thought out questioning of her certainty, she simply sighed, “How many times must I remind you of our connection? Mother or Mama send me a little snippet at sundown each day. Something including a code that lets me know they are not in distress or being forced to make contact. And no, princess, you sneaking out and back home is still not an advisable option so I suggest you remove the notion from your mind.”, and then with that she was heading out of the bedroom door. How I hated when she would do that. Creep into the sanctity of my mind and find any piece she wanted. Just as I began to pout, I felt her behind me. Her hands gently rubbing my shoulders as her calmness transferred to me. She started doing this regularly after finding me curled up in a ball having an anxiety fueled attack after a particularly brutal nightmare.

What Haizea didn’t know is I was escaping tonight. I had been able to convince her brother Fenian, an elf and spy in training, to assist me in my efforts. For my dreams were not simply dreams. I had been discovered to be a seer when I was but five years old. The youngest elf in centuries to be gifted the ability, my father thought it prudent to tell no one. And so I was taught all these years to manage and harness the ability. While my dreams could be varied in intensity, the nightmares were always visions of what was to come suddenly and with seemingly no warning. I had seen my fathers great table, Orna and Sheelin sat across from my father and mother, peacefully discussing further amendments to the treaty which would see the Chamillet clan free to come and go from the arikaree forest as they pleased. The centuries of them being forced outcasts was coming to an end, but there was a snake amongst them. A young elf who had lost his brothers in battle to Orna herself and as his rage boiled over having to witness her being welcomed as the first vampire to sit at the Kings table, he snapped. With a small force of twenty elves, he slaughtered Orna, Sheelin, King Gowan and Queen Elaria, setting in motion a mutiny and subsequent war that would see the entire arikaree forest burned to the ground.

Some time after Haizea fell into a deep slumber with the aide of a potion brewed at the behest of Fenian, I gently kissed her forehead as I awaited the cry of Fenian’s barn owl, Ozanne. It felt like an eternity as I watched Haizea sleeping peacefully. We had begun to find ourselves entranced by one another over our weeks together, and so leaving her was not something I’d chosen lightly. Just as the doubt began to overtake me, along came the call of Ozanne, splitting the aura of peace in half. I reluctantly kissed Haizea once more and then headed out the window and down to the waiting horse. Fenian and I rode with a speed I never knew possible as Ozanne flew ahead of us. She would call back to Fenian if she saw anyone on the path ahead of us that we would need to be prepared to dodge. His ability to communicate with animals kept the horses calm and steady and as we reached the edge of the forest, he wished me well and watched as I continued on towards the castle.

The relief upon Garrik’s face broke quickly into tears as I came running up to him, calling to him as I gasped for breath, “There isn’t time, Uncle. They will be betrayed….murdered. We must hurry.” I pushed past his embrace, unwilling to waste a moment for fear of being too late. Garrik ran behind me, signaling to each set of guards as we passed to follow but by the time we reached the doors of the great room, I knew. As the doors swung open, it took every ounce of strength I had to push past, only to realize the bodies of three guards who had already been struck down were the source of the problem. Almost too afraid to move any closer, Garrik and the men surged past me. “Protect your king, quickly!”. Swords clashing, armor clanging and that was when I saw her. My mother, Queen Elaria, shielding Orna with her body as Sheelin conjured orb after orb in an effort to protect them both.

By the time the insurrection was stifled, King Gowan was dead. He had given his life protecting Sheelin from an attack she had not sensed coming as she instead chose to use the last of her energy to conjure an orb to shield me from being assassinated by Haemir himself. The curse of a king being lost due to the actions of his child continued on with me, and with my brother Javaid struck down in his room prior to the attack in the great room, the crown fell to me.

In my grief and the shared grief of our people, the temptation to wage a cleansing was almost impossible to resist. But it was Sheelin who reminded me of the values of my father King Gowan and my grandfather King Ophir before him. I was reminded that even in grief, one must be wise and measured. Peace had to be maintained and so even in the face of the anger of my own people, I honored the expansion of the treaty my father gave his life to achieve. The name of the Chamillet clan was finally given the respect and honor it had always deserved, as was their right to freedom. But this was only the beginning of my story. A lesson hard learned but never forgotten. With the Chamillet clan and my mother Queen Elaria at my side, we all walked into the light of a new day. For we would need one another if we were to survive the coming onslaught of the orc forces from the west who viewed our treaty and the death of King Gowan as an invitation to insight war.

As I walked out onto the terrace to take in the sunset, hand in hand with my dearest Haizea, I realized what love could do. How love could shape and shift us into being more than we thought possible, and I knew the love she and I were discovering would be powerful enough to shift the foundation of our great country. That love could finally unite Aranyak. The days of vampire and elf being sworn enemies was coming to an end.