Chapter 15 - A Solo Performance

When midnight calls and silence sings,

The forest bends on unseen strings.

In moonlit breath the oath is sworn,

And fate anew is softly born.

Elanor was having the dream again. Back at home in Willowmere, she performed for her parents, only to find them burnt to ashes before her eyes.

She woke with a start in her cabin. Sweat pooled on the mattress beneath her. Her roommate was still fast asleep. Elanor was about to turn over and attempt to sleep without returning to that dream again, when something grabbed her attention.

“Chiiiiiild of sooooong. Briiiing your fluuuuute to the woooods. Entertaaaain uuuuus…”

Over the four years of training at The Widow’s Shroud, the spirits of the forest spoke to her often. It was this haunting melody of drawn out syllables that rang deep within her soul.

She never questioned the voices. Something about their ancient nature struck her as nothing but the truth gilded in millennia of wisdom.

So when they asked her to bring her flute, she did just that.

With her System enhancements, she truly only required an hour or two of sleep or meditation a day to remain clear-headed.

She’d been well past that when the nightmare woke her again.

Dressing silently in her assassin leathers, she caught a few glimpses of her body as the moonlight filtered through the window.

Eighteen years old now, Elanor was proud of her physique. Her elven heritage had gifted her with lustrous teal-blue hair that cascaded down past her shoulders in soft waves. In the moonlight, she could see her hair shifting as she moved from turquoise to sapphire. Looking down, her breasts were full, and her stomach wasn’t just flat, but chiseled.

Her arms and legs showed the result of four years of daily hard work and healthy eating. But, as she glanced in the mirror while she finished tying her leathers into place, it was her eyes that had changed the most. And also not at all.

She was still the innocent girl who was hailed as the genius of Willowmere. But she had also been through lifetimes worth of tribulations since. The kind of pain that left a mark on your soul. Aside from the innocence and the pain, however, her eyes shone brightly with a fervent determination.

A determination to be the very best. And the knowledge that she could achieve that goal.

Finished with her clothing, she tied her long hair into a simple ponytail. She sheathed her daggers, strung her bow over her shoulder, and flute in hand, jogged softly toward the woods north of the training grounds.

At the Shroud, there was a long course of basic knowledge required by everyone training there. But when it came to combat, the variations were as infinite as each trainee’s background, affinities, and intentions.

For Elanor, her combat training took the shape of an extreme stealth assassin. She could handle herself in wider fights, but it was the single target fighting where she excelled.

Her unique relationship with sound, honed through her musical development, helped her to focus that intent into a deadly fighting style that had no rivals at the camp.

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So as she tread softly toward the paths running through the forest, she was invisible to anyone but the most trained observers.

As she reached the edge of the woods, the voices came louder into her mind. Louder, in fact, than ever before.

They begged her to play for them, asking for a unique concerto just for their ancient ears.

Elanor smiled. The honor of being asked to perform for such august spirits… it was a challenge that she could never deny.

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Let it go.

Then she raised her silver flute to her lips and began playing.

She had no melody or classic tune in mind. She just let the music flow directly from her heart into the instrument.

As she did, faint golden notes floated into the air, swirling all around her.

The trees rustled in delight, the leaves dancing despite the lack of wind. When they moved, moonlight would shoot through the gaps in the canopy and illuminate the young woman.

The melody picked up its pace, and the notes began forming scenes in mid-air now. A great wolf alpha stood on a mountain ledge, his head tilted upward in a howl.

Far down below, a band of warriors brandished spear and bow, bent on revenge for the defeat of their village elder. The battle took place in the air, the golden notes forming persistent images of warrior and gigantic wolf.

Finally, the scene concluded with the defeat of the wolf, but only one warrior was left standing. Elanor’s melody took on a haunting tone once again, as the warrior, shoulders slumped in defeat despite his victory, walked slowly back to his village.

Elanor stopped playing, and the notes dissipated into a mist before fading away in the darkness.

“Youuuu aaaaare talented, young one… Weeee have wisdom tooooo impart. Siiiiit in meditation and receive it nooooow.”

Elanor was surprised, but sat on the forest floor, cross-legged, with her flute resting in her lap.

She closed her eyes, and it all came at once.

A rush of emotion, agony, dignity, determination, vision, reflection, and most of all ages of wisdom hit her like a storm buffeting a large stone.

It all whirled around her, circling her mind until she processed the concepts one at a time.

The emotions of spirits who had roamed the land of Evirond before it had a name. Witnessing the birth of intelligent life and civilization, watching it grow. Watching it get corrupted by evil and corrected by good.

The agony of spirits who saw their creation and inspiration being twisted into decay and corruption, and the powerlessness to only stand by and watch.

The dignity of spirits who were nigh eternal, knowing in their souls that they were needed and important. Never questioning their mission or purpose for a single moment as time marched on.

The determination of spirits who were driven to achieve their ultimate agenda: a world in harmony.

The vision of spirits who could see all, and who knew where all of their quiet efforts were to lead. The goal of harmony was ever present and would never fade to the backdrop.

The reflection of spirits who had made mistakes or fallen short time after time, watching living beings on their planet falter and grow dark. The reflection to know when direct action was required, not just the ethereal hand of fate.

All of it settled around Elanor like a soft, plush mantle to keep her warm in the winter months. She felt it almost like a real object.

Finally, the swirling and thoughts slowed and she opened her eyes.

Tears covered her cheeks and soaked her tunic.

She looked up at the trees, and all around her.

“I will not stray from my path,” she promised. “I will do my best to carry out your will. This, I vow.”

“Yoooour oooooath is witnessed aaaaand heard.”

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the spirits were quiet again. Elanor stood, brushed the leaves from her breeches, and walked back to the training camp.

She felt lighter somehow. Like questions about her future were suddenly all answered. The details weren’t there, of course. But she knew that her path was to be a dichotomy. Of music and joy. Of strife and death. One of beautiful sound, and one of utter silence.

As she strode back to her cabin, tears still flowed freely down her cheeks, but a faint smile reached her lips.

And watching the entire scene from far outside Elanor’s range of perception, Sapphire also smiled.

The spirits haven’t spoken to anyone in generations. Since Raven, as far as I know, she thought.

She retired to her cabin and got some sleep. This training cohort was almost complete, and Sapphire’s hopes for the cause burned brighter than they had in decades.