The door slammed shut. The woman who had stepped inside turned around to face the two men with stern, dark eyes.

"You. Where are the others? I need to speak with all of you," she said, her voice laced with a heavy accent. She pulled down her white hood, revealing long dark hair. "Now."

"Yeah?" Isendir crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "And who are you?"

"I am the High Priestess of Drangok Tribe, younger sister of Chieftain Leravacha." Hakrynsif walked over to the two men. "I demand to speak with all of you."

Lorthrendel, finally finding his spare spectacles, slipped them on and blinked. "Ah, I remember you. Hakrynsif, right?"

It was obvious that Hakrynsif was no older than eighteen or nineteen. She was much smaller and slenderer than her elder sister and wasn't nearly as muscular. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, sticking out against her russet skin. The resemblance between her and Leravacha was remarkable, despite the fact that Leravacha was ten years her elder.

"What do you want?" Isendir frowned. "You and your sister lock us up and you expect us to do something for you?"

"Please hear me out," Hakrynsif said, her eyes soft. She turned to Lorthrendel. "You are mage, yes? I do not remember your name."

"Lorthrendel." The fae smiled charmingly. "And yes, I'm the mage."

"Huh." The High Priestess's brows furrowed as she looked him up and down. "I thought mages were supposed to be...scrawny. And what is with the long hair and warpaint? Are you trying to compensate for something?"

Isendir snorted. He patted the mage on his shoulder. "Aye, maybe he is."

Two bright splotches of color stained Lorthrendel's cheeks. "I-it's not warpaint; I was born with it, as the rest of my people are," he stammered. His eyes narrowed. "Did you come here to comment on my appearance or did you did you actually need something, you silly doxy?" He shrugged Isendir's hand off.

"I need to speak with all of you," Hakrysif repeated, turning to Isendir. "Where are they?"

"I'll uh, I'll go get them." Isendir cast an amused glance at Lorthrendel before walking off to find Varenyl, Aerysdren and Ragnus.

After he was gone, Hakrynsif, with wrinkled eyebrows, cocked her head at Lorthrendel and asked, "Are you a homosexual? Is that why your hair is so long?"

~-~-~-~

"We're all going to die, and I'll be damned well surprised if I'm wrong." Ragnus walked around the windowless room, lighting every candle he could find.

"You don't have to be so godsdamn pessimistic, you know," Aerysdren said, throwing his hands into the air from where he sat at the table. "I've had to look on the bright side of things my whole life in order to keep me alive. Hearing people complain all the time makes that rather hard on me. We're all going to get through this thing just fine, gramps. Just fine."

Ragnus stroked his beard, grumbling to himself in dwarven. He sat heavily down in a stone chair across from the elf and jabbed a finger at him. "When you live as long as I have, you get a right to complain about everything." His eyes softened. "But...I am sorry, lad. I am just very pissed off at all of this." He gestured widely with his gnarled hands. "We're stuck here until that damn Lera-what's-her-face lets us out, and when we do get out, we don't even know what the hell we're supposed to do."

Aerysdren absently swung his legs as a cold chill racked his spine. He averted his gaze to his nails. "I-I know what to do, sir. You just have to trust me and...the gods," he said softly. "I just can't tell you what it is."

Ragnus's bushy eyebrows lowered over his green eyes. He grunted. "So that's why you've been actin' all strange of late. Aye, alright lad. I can trust ya, so long as you don't go off 'n get yourself killed. I don't think Isendir could handle that very well. That man sees you the same way he did his own son."

"Yeah, I figured." Aerysdren smiled. His eyes welled up and he quickly wiped them to keep a traitorous tear from sliding down his cheek. "Don't worry about me though. I'll be fine. I think it's Varenyl you need to worry about. He's so bloody paranoid, gramps! When we were in Juliec, I accidentally dropped a glass and he drew out a short sword out of nowhere! I didn't even know he had one of those!"

"Bah! It's no tellin' what in Byrex's name that bastards hiding under that long cloak of his. You saw all those weapons those plainsmen found on him when they searched us." Ragnus drummed his fingers on the table. "But you 'n Isendir were no different. I don't even want to know how you keep all those daggers on you."

"The lady who raised me taught me a lot," Aerysdren admitted with a small smile. "She told me to never go off unarmed." He bent down, took his shoe off, and in a few moments was holding a small, slightly curved elvish knife. He let the dim orange light of the candle illuminate its silver blade. "See? I cut a secret pocket into my shoes so I can keep this in it. Mishka gave it to me years ago."

Ragnus's eyes squinted in the dim light as he admired the craftsmanship on the knife. The dwarf, who had been a metalsmith long ago, had always admired elven smithing. The elves may be weaklings in his eyes, with men who looked liked women and drank too much wine, but they made stunning and marvelous weapons. On that note and that note alone, Ragnus respected them.

"Aye, that's a beautiful weapon, lad," the dwarf grumbled. "I have always been conflicted over which elvish smithing I like the best. Sylvari is more...modern, if you know what I mean. Sylvanaar has more of an ancient feel to it."

"My people dislike change," Aerysdren said, putting the knife back in his shoe. "We hate it, and that is one reason why we shun the outside world. We do not want humans or dwarves moving into our forest and changing it. We love our home, and we want to keep it safe. We've not changed very much over the years, as you can probably guess." The boy shrugged. "To be honest, when I first saw Lorthrendel, I was in shock. I thought Eastern and Western Fae were just a myth."

"If only they were a myth." Varenyl suddenly stumbled into the room. He held a candle in his hand as he looked at Ragnus and Aerysdren. "What are you two doing here, sitting in the dark like cats?"

It was the first time Aerysdren had ever seen Varenyl without his cloak on. The elf was extremely muscular, which was a rare quality for an elf. A few scars criss crossed his arms and biceps, and he filled out his white and grey short sleeve undershirt quite nicely. Aerysdren briefly wondered how long it had taken the Sylvari to look like that. Elves were not built to be burly, as the humans, fae, and dwarves were.

"There are no windows in this room so we had to," Ragnus sharply returned. "There's no wood in the fireplace either."

"This room is pretty deep underground," Varenyl commented. He reached up and slid his hand over the doorway.

"Ain't you cold?" Aerysdren asked, cocking his head. He shivered again and rubbed his arms.

"'Aren't', Aerysdren, not 'ain't'." Varenyl sighed deeply. "Please do not pick up on the humans' and dwarves' bad speaking habits. And no, I am not. My people live in a land where the snow never melts. I hardly ever notice the cold anymore."

Ragnus grumbled something incoherent and brushed his palms together. The old dwarf squinted his eyes as he scanned the room for another candle to light. "Blasted dark. I can't see anything."

Aerysdren turned around in his chair so he could look at Varenyl more easily. "So how'd your talk with Lorthrendel go? It didn't last very long."

"It went very well. He's such a great, reasonable man." Varenyl heaved a deep sigh and leaned against the doorway of the room. "I love talking to him and hearing his voice."

Aerysdren's eyes narrowed as he processed the Sylvari's words. "Is that sarcasm?" He cocked his head. "I think that's sarcasm. I mean, I like listening to Lorthrendel. I like his accent. And his hair. And his little tattoo things are also pretty cool...I wish I had them." Seeing Varenyl's questioning eyes on him, Aerysdren quickly stammered, "B-but you two don't really get along that well."

"There you are." Isendir's abrupt voice caused Varenyl to jump.

"Dammit man." Varenyl groaned and massaged his temples, exaspered. He looked at Isendir through his fingers. "What the hell is it?"

"The Cheiftain's sister wants to speak with all of us," Isendir said, happy that the darkness of the corridor hid his grin.

"If she isn't going to let us out, then she isn't talking to me!" Ragnus shot back, jumping to his feet.

"Ragnus, this is important. I will drag you if I have to, and I mean it." Isendir stuck his thumbs in his belt. "Come on, before her and Lorthrendel get into a fight. I don't think he has anymore spectacles to spare."

***🐉***

hi yall♡

thank you so much for reading♡ if you have criticism or suggestions for me, please tell me :')

ive been going through a lot mentally and emotionally recently, and i just want to say thank you for always supporting me on this. it means a lot :') wattpad has been a blessing to me. i just remember how i was when i first joined...those are bad memories😵 past me is bad me.

anyway, thank you so much again, and until next time♡