Kingdom of the Elves
Chapter 5 — Aisling
Each step that brought Princess Aisling closer to her room felt heavier than the last as uncertainty weighed heavily on her. Striding quickly, she ignored every guard and servant encountered on the way. Upon reaching her door, enchanted to resemble a lemon-green portal leading into a different world by her father, she paused. Taking in her surroundings, she contemplated what she might find in her room. Aware that nothing would be ordinary, she stepped through the door. True to her expectations and the original intent of her enchanted portal — a gateway to a different world.
Her room was no longer the familiar space she had left. Dragonroses adorned every corner, and the air carried the invigorating scent of summer at its freshest. A gentle warmth, reminiscent of an absent sun, caressed her skin. Suddenly, a deep, low rumble echoed from all directions, jolting her out of her distant daze. Anticipating a return to her original room, she instead found herself in a distant realm. From this otherworldly place, a tall figure emerged, appearing elven with pointed ears, a complete torso, and the gait of a warrior, yet distinctly red.
Blood, She thought.
Aisling felt a surge of fear. In a reflex, she opened her left fist and traced the familiar curve she made when wielding her elelm bow. Projecting the image of her bow in her mind, she expected it to materialize in her hand, but to her dismay, nothing happened. A complete blockage cut her off from her usual magic. She whimpered, swallowed hard, and considered running. Perhaps, by turning around, she could find herself back in front of her door. She made a silent promise to stay in the courtyard and heed her father’s words, should the gods be kind enough to return her.
As she turned around, the exact image she had shied away from returned to her vision, holding her in place. Aisling felt an overwhelming urge to apologize — for her perceived greed, her constant desire to escape her reality, and even for eating Faolán’s cake on his last birthday without offering him a single bite. She considered it unbecoming of her, believing that the gods had sent the Red Reaper to punish her for mistreating the elf sorcerer they particularly favored.
“I’m sorry,” She squeaked. Although her voice was no louder than a pixie’s, it echoed around her, resonating multiple times as if the very environment amplified her words.
“What do you apologize for, little princess?” The Red Reaper inquired. His voice resonated with an ancient depth that sent shivers down her spine, lacking allure and instead instilling a sense of unease.
She noticed that he was closer now, just a few feet away. If he took any more steps, he would encroach upon her personal space. Fortunately, he stopped. As she examined his full form, she found no additional details. He was simply red — like a cast molded to represent a male elf. He possessed a head with long, twitchy ears, but there were no discernible eyes, nostrils, lips, or hair. Aisling recalled reading about a Red Prince destined to confront humans who had once displaced her people to two different continents in the past. The being before her seemed to embody the closest approximation of such a prince.
Please, don’t make me marry you, she pleaded. Her mind flitted to the men who paraded around her father’s court, desperately vying for her attention. In retrospect, she wished she had granted them more consideration.
The Red Reaper laughed. His laughter, much like his unsettling appearance and her own vulnerability, sent shudders of fear through her.
“I am no reaper,” he clarified, shaking his head. Aisling couldn’t help but wonder how he managed such a movement with a seemingly stiff neck. “Neither am I here to marry you, princess.”
“You can hear my thoughts?” she asked, chiding herself for speaking aloud to someone who obviously had the ability to read minds, akin to the psychic mages.
“This,” he said, spreading his hands, “is your thought.” Aisling blinked in confusion. “I exist in your dreamscape, and I am here to tell you that you can do better things than spreading wings and flying.”
If she was indeed in her mind, she thought, then she could simply wish herself back to her actual room. However, the Red Man’s offer was so enticing that she decided she needed to hear more from him — especially since he claimed not to be a reaper.
“What is better than flying?” She asked, trying not to sound overly eager.
“The Endless Summer and the Dream of it,” He responded.
This wasn’t the first time she had heard about an eternal summer, a concept she dismissed as silly and redundant. Eldalindëa, after all, already existed in perpetual summer. They experienced no harsh winters, and the plants flourished year-round. Rainfall was at their beck and call — just a request from the Elven King, and the gates of Neamh would open, showering the realm until he deemed it enough.
“We already live in this Endless Summer,” she dismissed. “But what about the Dream? Will the Dreamer continue to see dragonroses?”
The Red Man laughed, and the entire dreamscape rumbled with him like a starving dragon’s stomach. She felt stupid for asking such a ridiculous question, not fully understanding why it sounded absurd.
“Eldalindëa does not truly live in the Endless Summer,” he emphasized. “What you experience is the favor of the gods, and their protection is not eternal. The Elder Elf still endures his punishment for directly aiding your kind in the First Homo-Alfean War. No deity would risk upsetting the balance by intervening if another war were to break out.”
Aisling frowned. She was told a different story. The Elder Elf was serving punishment for creating the first human and granting him the gift of procreation. Unless the history books are wrong, she thought with concern etched over her face.
“What will happen during the Endless Summer?” She inquired, momentarily setting aside her skepticism regarding the historical records she had access to.
“Everyone will live without the danger of being sent out of their homes,” He responded. There was a slight pause before he continued, and it made her wonder if he was saying the truth or a bit of it. “No one will try to take what is not his, and people will live knowing they are loved by everyone.”
Will the desires simply be wiped away? She wanted to ask, but another question took more importance. “What people? Just elves or humans as well?”
“Humans do not belong in a world that was created for the elves,” He said.
That did not sound right to her. The world was big enough to contain everyone. Eldalindëa had so many unsettled lands. If every elf left the main continent and moved to the island of Solaerii, they would be housed comfortably.
“I see you doubt my words,” The Red Man remarked. If he had any lips, he would probably be smirking. She realised she had been hearing thoughts throughout the conversation. “Let me show you a dream,” She heard in her mind.
Suddenly, her dreamscape transformed into a breathtaking realm. Though it radiated the beauty and wonders of Eldalindëa, she sensed a distinct difference — it was unmistakably not her homeland. She found herself in a place that felt like a second home, away from Eldalindëa.
“That’s because this should have been home!” His thoughts resonated within her mind. Indeed, everything seemed to be an extension of her consciousness, but she couldn’t fathom conjuring such vivid scenes and clear arguments on her own. Parts of her dreamscape appeared to be drawn from something beyond herself.
The dragonroses. She had more questions for Faolán.
“What happened to it?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. Perhaps she wanted him to say something else so she could attribute the strange experience to the dragonroses’ hallucinogenic properties.
“Humans!” his voice echoed, absolute and loud. “They were not content with the portions of land they received. They lacked respect for nature. They felled woods without replanting them, turning vibrant forests into deserts…”
Silly humans of course, She thought. His response was true and his remarks were factual, at least from what she had read.
“But if this was meant to be home,” She pondered out loud, “that means we are on the southern continent… Dùthchranach!”
“Yes,” The Red Man confirmed. “Homeland of the South. The humans call it Orijendo.”
She read about that. “Land of the Origins,” she whispered. It held a meaning as well, one that was profound to the people who occupied it instead of the elves.
“But they are never contented,” He pointed out again. “They followed your kind to Fad-Chladach — the Far Shore, and now, yet again, they try to gather their might to come to Eldalindëa. They renamed Fad-Chladach to Ostenus. What uninspiring name would they name here as well once they land with their ships?”
“What?” She asked, all the morning whistling going off in her head. “They are coming?”
“Yes!” The Red Man nodded. “And you can stop them.”
“But how?” She asked. All she could do was shoot arrows. If humans reproduced as quickly as the books said they did, she would not have enough arrows for them all.
“By learning to Dream, little princess,” He said, and in her mind, she pictured him with a sneer.
