Above the realms of men, dance the Light Elves of Alfheim. Wise, immortal and captivating... These creatures are blessed by the Aesir and have harnessed the power of flight. But when war strikes down upon them with fire and doom; nothing can be saved except from the anger for those whom had committed such despicable acts. Text and illustrations copyright © A_Books_Magic_Moment 2014 The right of A_Books_Magic_Moment to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored as a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.


19. Steinar

Steinar's Rooms, Angabar

The night was long and dark. He ran and ran yet could not escape its unnerving reach. It seemed as if hands were pulling him from above, pulling him from below, pulling him from the sides. They were everywhere - tossing him this way and that, pricking at his skin, draining him of his last reserves. He was so tired. Why couldn't they just let him sleep? A few times, he dreamt of his mother's voice, calling for him from afar. His name rung out in her clear tones; soft like sunlight on a warm day. However, light was not always the kindest of things.

He felt his skin begin to burn with an intense power. Light broke through his immortal flesh. Screaming erupted from his throat. The cries of battle were around him - whispering and shouting all at once in his ears. The hurt came, with tears and blood both. There was nothing but the power; indecipherable words of some ancient Elvish breaking out in immense waves from his lips. It all became too much, and the boy feared whether he could hold it back for any longer... Smoke filled the air, a smell of combined sage and lavender. Hovering around him like a airy veil, it dampened the power that roared inside of him. It was uncontrollable. Nothing he could do would stop it. Nothing.

Draw on your power too much, and it will consume you, she spoke in is ear. Her dark hair tickled at his shoulders. Her delicate voice mumbling in his delicately pointed ears. Her hand guided his across the arrow shaft, his line of sight now straight. Draw on your power too much, and it will consume you. They let the arrow fly together, the light twirling from its head in a helix pattern. A satisfying thud sounded as it broke through the bulls eye. He turned to see her, with dark hair and eyes. But she was gone.

Lost from him.

Why am I remembering that? He asked himself as another wave of pain came on from his restricted magic. Why do I have so much power? Is this punishment, blessing, both? Frey, you truly make it hard, this life - and the next, and all to follow. The lordling thought as he lay there. He did not know where he was, who he was with, why he was there, what he was doing, which day it was... Any and all facts or recollections he had were gone from his mind. Dispersed in the immense pain he felt.

His mother's voice called for him to come out of the darkness again. This time she was closer. Welcoming was her voice in the infinite darkness. The lordling began to feel cold. Then warmth seeped quickly into his flesh, making him feel more alive with every passing second. Soon enough light was breaking through the darkness; cracks appearing all around him and flying down. Trying to break his empty mind where memories could come and go as they please - bringing him both good and bad times. As his hold on the dark reality came looser with every crack in the deep sky. I don't want to leave, the lordling realised as reality washed over him, It is much simpler here than there...

Yet he opened his eyes.

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