Kingdom of the Elves
When Aisling’s subconscious departed from the dreamscape, she found herself seated in front of her dresser, gazing at the dragonroses now housed in a vase. She reached out tentatively, as if to touch the colorful petals, but hesitated, stopping just before making contact. The experience in the dreamscape had left her disoriented and troubled. She withdrew her hand, placing it on her thighs before clenching her fists. Thoughts of people who deserved a figurative punch in their pretty faces, particularly Faolán for delaying her exit from the court, filled her mind.
Upon further reflection, she shrugged. Maybe if she had heeded Faolán’s attempt to detain her, she wouldn’t have stumbled upon the maniac in her mind. However, the encounter felt too vivid to dismiss, like denying the roundness of Miwith. A gentle knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She swiftly checked her reflection in the mirror to ensure she appeared composed before responding.
“You may come in,” she announced to her unexpected visitor.
Through the mirror, she saw Faólan poke his head in. She frowned but said nothing and watched him come stand beside her.
“How insolent of you to step into my line of sight after the disgrace you caused me in the eyes of many,” She stated, looking at him through the mirror and refusing to meet his gaze.
The sorcerer smiled before taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. He paused for a moment, his face wrinkled in curiosity.
“Why do you smell of dragonroses?” He asked. “It’s like you made a tincture with its oil and took a bath with the mixture in your water…”
She squinted her eyes at him, then she tried to perceive the smell of her own body. He was right. The scent of dragonroses was too concentrated on her. She had not even handled them since she gave the flowers to the servant, so why was she smelling so strongly of it?
“I don’t know,” She shook her head. “Perhaps…”She stopped herself before revealing her encounter with the Red Man who wanted to usher in an Endless Summer.
“Perhaps what?” Faólan asked, raising his eyebrows.
In an attempt to buy herself some time, she uttered, “Uhm,” allowing her mind to navigate through possible explanations. “Just curious about the origins of the flowers and how you managed to obtain them,” she inquired, seeking a plausible diversion without revealing too much too soon.
Faólan appeared skeptical, his doubt evident in his expression, yet he refrained from challenging her. The sorcerer casually leaned against her dresser before speaking.
“I mentioned it was near a cave that was rumored to be a dragon’s lair.”
Curious, she probed further, “How do dragonroses typically grow?” Understanding their natural habitat might unravel the mysteries of what I witnessed, she left that unsaid.
“Well, they don’t grow in the conventional sense,” he explained, observing her growing frustration. Faólan grinned, adding, “They simply manifest when the omens align, my princess.”
“What omens?” Aisling asked, her tone betraying a mix of curiosity and skepticism. She was wary of Faólan diving into magical explanations that might sound like nonsense to her.
Faólan began, “Well, firstly, roses must be present in the area, and then a firebreathing dragon must be present for at least three days. Whenever dragons choose their lair, the area starts to exhibit the properties of the dragon’s magic. Dragons, you see, are creatures born directly from the elemental Chaos at the behest of the First Dragon, Ormiun. So, when a firebreathing dragon has roses near its chosen lair, they transform into dragonroses, highly sought after for their magical properties. One additional thing is required, and that is what makes them very rare; those three nights must have the Dreamer’s Scry constellation clearly visible.”
The princess blinked. She hated astrology and she never bothered to learn what the constellations were or what they signified.
“What is the Dreamer’s Scry?” She asked.
“When the Ormiun star, serving as a celestial compass for stargazers, aligns at the center of a cosmic arrangement formed by Ignium, Fulmiun, Glacium, Putrium, and Cogitatium — the stars representing Ormiun’s five children — that constellation is named the Dreamer’s Scry. Legend has it that Ormiun and his offspring are the earliest Dreamers. However, this claim is widely debated, so I’d caution against placing too much trust in it.”
He loved sharing his knowledge and could talk endlessly, but Aisling was grateful he kept it brief. She struggled to grasp everything he said, but having an intelligent friend was a delight. While her father, the Elven King, could also help, he already had plenty on his plate ruling Eldalindëa.
“What properties?” She simply asked. “The dragonroses.”
“Behold! Within the folds of these petals lies a precious elixir, a nectar that demands delicate extraction. This ethereal substance not only weaves intoxicating fragrances but is also the essence of the most formidable sleeping spell ever conceived. Mastered by a non-Dreamer, this enchantment unfurls the tapestry of dreams, allowing them to tread the nocturnal realms of those in close proximity.”
She thought the magic of Dreaming was the most creepy form of magic anyone could have. She didn’t need to ask for more before he continued sharing additional knowledge.
“The stamens, once dried and ground into a fine powder, unlock the ethereal realm of Dream magic. Inhaling this powder grants passage to the vivid landscapes of one’s dreams and imagination. However, beware the costly toll it extracts. The longer you dwell within, the more your soul succumbs to the insidious grip of the Chaos, a force that devours the very essence of your being. In the direst of outcomes, users risk disintegration into nothingness or a spectacular combustion, consumed by the flames of their own dreams.”
That sounded horrific. She knew she would never attempt to use either of these properties.
“Lastly, in the realm of enchantments, the elusive scent of dragonroses possesses a unique power: to subdue mythical monsters and creatures. Dragons, with their fiery breath, are the exception to its influence. Beware, for the fragrance, while enchanting, harbors peril for humans and giants. Prolonged inhalation may lead to a fate as ominous as the creatures it tames — death.”
Aisling pondered the potency of the blossoms in her possession, contemplating whether they held the power to thwart the invaders forewarned by the mysterious Red Man within her dreamscape.
“Have you ever heard tell of a creature, a spectral elf sculpted entirely from the hue of blood, crimson and dark?” She inquired
Faólan rose to his full height, his gaze penetrating as he looked down upon her. A shiver danced down her spine; did he truly know about her dream, or was it just a suspicion lingering in the air?
“Pray, how did you come by knowledge of the Red One?” He asked, his curiosity painted across his handsome features.
“The Red One?” she asked, her eyes widening in realization as she repeated after him, realizing she was on the brink of capturing the elusive name.
“Yes!” he responded, his voice rising with a mix of surprise and frustration. “You’re not one for books, so someone must have shared it with you.” Faólan rubbed the tip of his nose, a telltale sign of his anger surfacing. “How careless of them to whisper of the Red One beyond the Academy’s walls.”
“What?” she asked, a touch of disdain in her voice, uncertain about what he was mewling about.
“Look, I’ll spill the secret beans only because you’re the princess and, well, my best friend,” he pleaded with sincerity shining in his eyes. “But promise me, not a whisper of this to anyone else.”
When she nodded, he continued. “The tale of the Red One unfolds from the Elder Elf’s folly. In the chaos of the First Homo-Alfean War, driven by impatience, he sought to accelerate an age-old prophecy. This prophecy promised elven dominion over the world, foretelling an era marked by the emergence of a red being. The details beyond this were lost in the tides of time, fragments fading away. Complicating matters, the Elder Elf, once a mortal, possessed only limited knowledge.”
“So, did he attempt to bring the Red One into existence?” she asked, her mind speculating on whether this endeavor led to his punishment by the other deities.
“Yes,” Faólan replied. “He defiled the sacred elem tree on the southern continent, conducting a blood ritual to summon the Red One from its lifeblood. Yet, what unfolded in that moment remains a contentious point among many.”
“What unfolded?” she asked, curiosity lighting up her eyes.
“There came a sudden earth tremor that rudely interrupted the ritual. Some attribute it to giants, others point accusing fingers at dragons, and the skeptics insist it was a mere act of nature. Be that as it may, instead of the Red One, what emerged was the first man.”
At this point, Aisling burst into laughter. She had never delved into the origin of humans, despite the numerous tales that pointed fingers at them for displacing the elves from their ancestral home.
“You’re telling me the humans, our eternal nuisance, came into existence because someone messed up an elf ritual?” She quipped, eyebrows raised, as Faólan nodded in confirmation. “Well, it all clicks now. They weren’t meant to be; we sort of dragged them into this realm. No wonder they’re a perpetual thorn in our sides.”
After a moment of contemplation, Faólan nodded. “Your words just now have given me a fresh perspective.”
The princess smirked. “Naturally.” Her expression turned serious once more. “So, is that the extent of your knowledge about the Red One?” she inquired, her quest for knowledge hungry for additional revelations.
“Some scholars speculate that on that fateful day, two distinct events unfolded. The first was the creation of the first human, and concurrently, the emergence of a being diametrically opposed to the Red One. The mystery of how no one witnessed this creature’s birth hangs in the air. It’s foretold that this entity, while professing to prepare the world solely for the elves, harbors a destructive intent, seeking to obliterate all and sundry.”
Aisling felt her stomach tighten, a vivid recollection of the encounter in her dreamscape sending a shiver down her spine.
“In truth, the very moment we brought them into existence, we forged an unbreakable pact that solidified our coexistence. One cannot exist without the other!”
Faólan’s words echoed incessantly in her mind. Initially, she had been resolute in her belief that her mission was to vanquish the invaders, but now a seed of doubt sprouted within her. Is destruction the right course of action?
