She had sworn her oath. And now, Sylvariel stood, wondering what came next. The words had been spoken, carved into the fabric of the world, but how could she ever fulfill them? Doubt crept in like a shadow, whispering through the trees.
She stood barefoot, clothed only in a torn scrap of fabric. The sunlight had waned, and the forest shadows stretched long across the ground. With narrowed eyes, Sylvariel turned—not toward the light—but into the dark. She walked in the opposite direction of where the soldiers had gone.
"What do I do now?" she whispered.
There was no echo. Only her own ears heard her voice. Her steps were unsteady. Still, she kept walking. The rag clung to her chest and hips, tearing further with each branch that scratched her bare skin. Her legs and back were fully exposed, but she moved on. Blood welled at her feet as stones pierced her soles, but her tear-filled eyes stayed fixed ahead.
"I will build my own city... I will bring peace to the Elves..."
She paused, leaning back against a tree. Her breath came shallow. The tears that slipped down her face did not merely wet her cheeks—they soaked the depths of her soul.
"But... who am I? I know nothing. I have nothing. I am... powerless."
She rested her head against the tree and looked upward. Her eyes closed. Her breath trembled.
"Mother... I wish I hadn't gone to the river. Maybe... maybe I could have saved at least one of them..." "But I... I just... ran."
She rose again and walked on, silent. Only the sound of her footsteps, and the occasional tear of her clothing. Until...
"Water...?"
She began to run. She didn't care that her feet were bleeding, or that branches whipped at her back like lashes. A spark still burned inside her, the only flame that had survived.
And then she saw it.
A river.
Clear, pure, dancing with light. Fish moved gracefully through its waters. Sylvariel held her breath and stepped forward, falling to her knees. Without using her hands, she dipped her lips into the river. Her reflection trembled like a ghost in the current. Her lips quivered as she took her first sip.
"This... this is so clean... so sweet..."
Drop by drop, the knot in her throat loosened. But as she drank, her eyes filled again. This water was unlike any she had ever tasted.
"Why... why did we drink such foul water? Why... did we have to hide? What did we ever do wrong?"
She dipped her feet into the stream. The coolness touched her wounds, spreading a soothing relief. For a fleeting moment, she felt peace. Her hunger stirred, but the river's calm dulled it. She lay back on the stones. They pressed against her body but did not hurt. Her hair tangled in the rocks, mingling with the earth.
After some time, she sat up again. Her eyes followed the fish dancing in the current. She reached into the water, gently trying to catch one.
"Come on... come here, little one..."
One brushed past her hand. Another slipped away untouched. "Why... why is everything so hard..."
Weariness draped over her shoulders. As she drew back from the water, a rustling stopped her. From the bushes... a voice:
"What a beautiful lady we have here..."
The voice was deep and rough. Sylvariel turned. A dwarf. He carried a fishing rod and a small satchel. But his eyes were fixed on her naked body, and a soft smirk curled his lips. He stepped forward slowly.
"Are you alone? I can help you... Of course, not for free."
Sylvariel stepped back in fear. Her foot slipped. She fell into the water, shivering.
"Please... don't come closer...!"
But then the dwarf saw her ears.
"Y-y-you're an... an E-ELF?!"
His voice turned into a shriek. He stumbled back, tripping over a stone. His rod and bag fell to the ground. Sylvariel didn't know what to do. Her arms wrapped around her chest, her soaked rag clinging to her body.
The dwarf turned and fled.
Sylvariel stood in shock. Her gaze shifted to the bag and rod. She looked after the dwarf, then the other way. And she ran. She grabbed the belongings and fled into the trees.
Hours passed. The sun had set.
Sylvariel could no longer run. Her knees trembled. Her breath came in gasps. Her eyes were cloudy. Still deep in the forest. Entirely alone. She did not know how to light a fire. The cold crept into her bones. She leaned against a tree and opened the bag.
Inside were a few small loaves of bread, some dried meat, and a flask of water. And a little... money. Three bronze, one silver.
Sylvariel only recognized the food. The rest... to her, were just bits of dwarven metal. She didn't understand what money was. But she didn't care. She took a slow bite of the bread, the size of an apple. As it passed her throat, tears fell from her eyes.
"Why... why am I still here?" "Mother... Father... everyone is dead. Maybe... maybe I don't even deserve to survive."
She slowly looked up. Found a suitable tree trunk. Climbed up, as she had always done. The night's chill bit at her skin. Still... the height felt a little safer. Through the leaves, stars shone above.
She lay upon the branches, eyes closing slowly, whispering:
"I am alone." "I am afraid." "This world... does not want me." "But... I don't want to die."
"I just wish... someone, anyone... could understand me."
Two tears rolled down her cheeks. And in the heart of the dark forest, Sylvariel's heart... wept silently.