Vendetta's Rise - The Dragon Realms Saga: Book 1

Elucard hopped off of the rickety old boat with the day’s catch slung over his shoulder. The seaworn planks of the dock creaked as he bent down to tie up his father’s boat.

“Tie the knot tight, Elucard. Last thing we need is to have the boat drifting away. Storms haven’t been too kind to Ravenshore as of late,” the boy’s Father said sternly.

Elucard peered out towards the horizon. Winds blew through his dirty blonde hair. Dark heavy clouds were rolling in from the Eastern Sea and the air was laden with moisture. A cool salty film lined Elucard’s fair skin. His elven ears perked up as he heard his father call over to him.

“Get those fish to your mother before you scamper off and be home before dark.”

“Aw, Pa, but me and Jetta were going to catch fireflies to sell for ca–” Elucard caught himself. Candy wasn’t the ideal way to spend his hard earned coin in his father’s eyes. Angus’ general store had a selection of the stickiest and most dazzling candy in all of Ravenshore; not only this but he also moonlighted as the local ale master. He traded bubble brew and the best mouth watering butterscotch for a jar of fireflies. Angus let them go when the children left, but Elucard didn’t know that. Elucard usually spent the allowance he earned from fishing with his father on peppermint sticks. Not a wise investment, but that was the way of the youth of the old fishing village. And just another reason to keep his trap shut.

“For new trousers? A good idea, since you’ve run those worn.” His father hid a smile as he gave his son a roguish wink, while stroking his bushy dark red beard, “Hurry up now, I’ll convince your mother about extending your curfew since you’re planning a business venture with Jetta.”

“Thanks, Pa!”

“Salene, I’m home, what’s for dinner?” River called out as he entered the small cottage.

“River, don’t you dare enter this house without taking off those boots, you know they make this home stink of fish, and I won’t have it anymore!”

River smirked, setting his rubber boots outside the door, before hanging his long coat on a hook. They’d been married for twenty-four years, and every day she scolded him for not taking off his boots. That’s why he never did it; he liked consistency in his life. The cottage was small but cozy. Shafts of light illuminated the old shelves that held wooden figurines. River carved them himself for his wife when they were just children themselves. A carving of a stag or mermaid was a sure fire way to swoon Salene in their youth. These days they collected dust on the shelves, but they also had quite a collection of memories within them as well.

“Elucard went off in a hurry. Gave me a line of fish, pecked my cheek with a kiss, and was gone,” Salene said with a slight quiver in her voice.

“They won’t pick him this year, they didn’t last time. He’s small and skinny. They’ll pick the blacksmith’s apprentice, but not Elucard.” River walked over to comfort his wife.

She embraced him and began to sob. Another visit by the Black Rabbits fast approached and each time she struggled more and more to keep herself from falling apart.

“Why do they have to come here? Why do they have to take our children? We should fight back!” she said almost weeping.

River rubbed her back gently, attempting to calm her down.

“They protect our town and many others. Our country doesn’t have an army. We’re all unfit to fight. We are tradesman, not warriors. Leave the fighting to them. They take our kids and turn them into–”

“Criminals!” Salene interrupted, “They take our children and they turn them into criminals!” She still remembered the day that her brother and cousin were taken by the assassin clan. They were forced to walk the dark path of the Black Rabbits and were never heard from again.

“This is the price we must pay for safety, Salene,” River said stoically. He may not have agreed with their methods, but he couldn’t argue with results. Bandits and raiders hadn’t dared to strike their town since the Black Rabbit clan started providing Ravenshore with protection.

“I know, River. It’s just that…It’s not Elucard’s price to pay,” Salene whispered in a slight daze as she thought about her only child being stolen away.

River cupped her hands as she stared hopefully into his magenta eyes. It was the only feature that Elucard had inherited from his father. Although River’s eyes were steely and had seen a lifetime of work, Elucard’s eyes were as soft as his nature. Elucard’s heart desired no violence or toil, but wonder. He was a child, not a soldier.

“Salene, He won’t be picked,” River reassured her, “They’ll see he is no killer, no assassin, and he’ll be passed by.”

Salene was quiet. She believed him. Not because she knew he was right, but that she needed the hope he was giving her. The same hope that had sustained her for the last four years.

“River, I just can’t do this much longer,” Salene sobbed.

“Come now. We have to be strong for him…for Elucard,” River said softly. Yet he didn’t know if he believed the words himself.

Elucard dashed down the gravel roads of Ravenshore. The small fishing village had been the only home he’d ever known. He passed by the old tavern that was down the alley from his house. It reeked of ale and the salty sweat of the sailors that occupied its stools. Elucard wrinkled his nose as he hurried past it and whipped around the corner. He heard the clanking of the blacksmith’s hammer as he and his apprentice worked on various iron wares. The town was especially bustling recently, from the good catches over the past few weeks. New travelers stabled their horses by the Calming Tide Inn and Elucard watched them get settled. Many had traveled a fair distance to taste the only sprite moss chowder on the azure coast of the Eastern Sea.

Elucard ran past the old schoolhouse before finally getting to the outskirts of Ravenshore. He slowed to a walk as he reached the old willow tree with its long drooping branches that hung over a tiny pond that had formed from an inlet. This was where he and Jetta spent the majority of their time together.

“You’re late.” A small girl said doing her best to look angry with her skinny arms folded across her chest and her face squished up in a pout. She was about two years younger than him. Her auburn hair was wild and messy, a stark contrast to when Elucard first met her. When they were toddlers, Jetta was a squeaky clean girl with her hair always tied in a yellow ribbon. She would never dare get her favorite dresses dirty – or any dress for that matter. They were all her favorite. However, over time her exposure to the rambunctious Elucard caused Jetta to come out of her shell. From then on it would be Elucard who needed to keep up with her.

“Sun’s still out! I say I’m on time.” Elucard plopped down by the roots near the pond’s bank. He inspected two makeshift fishing poles perched in the grass, “You remember to use bait this time?”

Jetta thrust her hands to her hips, “Yes! You take me for an idiot?”

Elucard cracked a smile as he playfully leered at his friend.

“Well, I couldn’t find any worms…” Jetta mumbled.

“Jetta….”

Jetta raised a fishing wire out of the water; a round chocolate ball had a hook poking through it, “Malt ball. Fish gotta like chocolate!”

Both kids burst out laughing.

The sun dipped beyond the farthest reaches of the horizon as it made way for the night. Fireflies flickered over and around the pond. A few bobbed inside a jar that rested in the grass while crickets chirped in the reeds and Elucard lay lazily on a bough.

“Elucard, my grandma says the Black Rabbits will be here in the morning,” Jetta said softly.

Elucard nodded, his parents had told him the same thing the other day. They attempted to reassure him by saying that he was too scrawny for the Black Rabbits. However, he wasn’t. He was twelve, and he was growing stronger every day. His back might have been weak compared to Myler, the stable boy, but it was stronger than Jetta’s. His parents thought he’d stay in Ravenshore forever, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Elucard, are you scared?” Jetta voice was tiny now. The older they got, the more likely they were to end up with the Black Rabbits.

Elucard feigned a smile, “Scared? Me? I’m not a fraidy cat, like you!”

“I’m not scared!” Jetta protested.

“Ya, I bet you still sleep with your stuffed bear!” Elucard teased poking Jetta in the side.

Jetta paused shyly.

“You do, don’t you?” Elucard laughed.

Jetta’s voice cracked as she shivered, “Elucard, I don’t want to leave home.”

Elucard slid over to wrap an arm around his little friend, “Remember what I promised you?”

Jetta harkened back to the day her father was being buried. It was only three years ago, but she was still old enough to experience the pain of losing a parent. She remembered how her mother couldn’t handle the sudden loss of her husband, and how she failed to take care of Jetta. And even though her grandmother took her in, it was Elucard that made Jetta feel safe. It was he who made her feel like everything would be alright.

“You said you’d always be there for me,” she said in a still small voice.

Elucard nodded, hugging her tighter, “I meant that promise. No matter what happens tomorrow, we’ll still be together and I’ll always be there for you.”

Jetta smiled brightly, once again comforted by her best friend, “Thank you, Elucard.”

“Come again?” Dest stared blankly at the trio of bandits. Her comrades scanned the scene as they sized up their situation. The bandits were clad in green leather tunics with iron rivets studded along the seams. Two of them stood by their horses, blocking the wagon’s path. The third pointed his dagger at Dest’s face.

“This here is our road that you be usin.’ Gotta pay a toll if’n you want to pass,” the bandit spat.

Dest looked back at the two men in her wagon. Vemrick smiled thinly, the other did not look amused. Dest looked back at the highwayman, “We have to make Ravenshore by morning. It would benefit us all if we were on time. Please remove yourself.”

The three green-clad men burst into a loud belly laugh. The bandit grinned, showing off his yellow teeth. His breath stunk of wine and rot, “You talk slick. Pay up. You don’t want to mess with the Black Rabbits, do you? We be the most feared men in these lands. Cross our path, we make widows of yer wives and orphans of yer children!”

Dest raised an eyebrow, “Oh, you be the Black Rabbits? I’ve heard of your exploits. You are certainly not to be trifled with.”

Vemrick was a bit younger than Dest. He slicked back his red hair and twitched his elven ears. He nudged his companion before poking his head out next to Dest, “Ya know, Dest. We should just pay these fine men. The last thing we want to do is evoke the wrath of the spooky Black Rabbit clan.”

The bandit’s grin grew wider, “Aye, pay us and ye can live.”

Dest fidgeted with her haversack taking out a few gold coins from a small pouch within it, “We never wanted any trouble…” she said coyly.

The bandit scrunched his face in confusion, “Weren’t there three of you?” he said pointing at a missing body in the wagon.

Vemrick mockingly raised his brow, “Weren’t there three of you?”

The bandit whipped his head around and gasped in horror. His two compatriots were sprawled out on the ground. Their necks were slashed and their thick red blood soaked into the earth. A single shadowy figure slowly moved himself closer to the remaining thug. In his hand he had a long two handed sword dragging in the dirt.

Dest spoke calmly as the mysterious individual raised his weapon, “We would have paid your silly tax. We would have left you alone. We would have gone about our business, but then you had to claim to be Black Rabbits.”

The sword drove through the cowering man in a wild blur. Blood spewed from his mouth as he crumpled onto his back.

Dest continued as the victim slowly died, “Legion doesn’t appreciate our name being dragged through the mud. None of us do. We earned the right to be called Rabbits. You did not.”

The bandit gurgled as blood sputtered and dripped from his mouth.

“We’ve wasted enough time. Ravenshore awaits our arrival,” Legion said flatly with little emotion in his voice.

“No rest for the weary, eh, Legion?” Vemrick asked.

“None.”

Wiccer gripped the wooden sword tightly as he lifted it to parry an overhead attack. His dark skin glistened from the sweat that covered his face. His older brother constantly taunted him, “You'll have to be quicker than that if you want to survive going toe to toe with a Rabbit, little brother.”

Avren swung his training sword deftly, striking Wiccer on the side of his arm, “Still too slow, brother!” Avren shouted.

Wiccer rubbed his arm as pain pulsed beneath his flesh. He brushed back his tightly curled hair and wiped away a layer of sweat. He may have only been thirteen but his brother was treating him as if he were a fully grown man.

“Hey, Avren, you’re going too hard,” Wiccer said exhausted.

“Too hard?” Avren scoffed, “We Newsun are trained at a higher standard. You think our mother would have settled with our father if–” Avren caught himself. He knew the subject of their mother was sensitive around Wiccer. He hadn’t known her as long as Avren had. After all, Wiccer was merely a toddler when she died, but still they were close.

Wiccer spoke up, “You don’t have to pretend that she didn’t exist.” His memories of her weren’t fresh, nor were they faded.

Avren grinned awkwardly, “You think I’m going hard on you? Mother’s training was so hard on me that my hands were bloodied and blistered from holding onto that training sword.” He laughed, “I wasn’t allowed to call her ‘Mother’ either. It was Lieutenant Cutter…” He was quieter now as he recalled his Mother’s face, “Lieutenant Vivian Cutter…”

“Avren?” Wiccer prodded his brother who was clearly lost in thought.

“Right, back to training, little brother.”

Avren's white cloak danced in the breeze of his flowing movements, in sync with his long, dreaded hair. He spun on his heel, whipping the practice sword around, glancing across the back of his younger brother’s tunic, “You’re still not getting it. Stop trying to over-analyze my steps and pay attention to the blade in my hand, Wiccer. The White Cloaks will never accept such sloppy swordsmanship. Just because our father is Captain Marcus Newsun doesn’t mean we get special treatment!”

Wiccer took a step forward. This was his daily routine for the last two years. After breakfast he would practice swordsmanship and footwork. He would endure the bombardment of lectures and insults from Avren and later he would receive lessons on politics and history from his father. All this was so that he could earn a white cloak of his very own. It was a family tradition. The only family tradition he’d ever known.

A sharp rap to the side of Wiccer's head snapped him out of his thoughts, “Dead again, Wiccer. Are you even trying?”

Wiccer rubbed the side of his head, “Let’s go again, I think I’m getting the hang of this!”

Avren barreled towards him whipping the training sword over his brother’s head. Wiccer barely managed to block it in time. Avren pressed his weight down until Wiccer’s legs buckled down into a kneeling position. Avren knocked his younger brother onto his back before pressing his foot down on his chest.

“You were saying?” he said jokingly.

“Why do the Elves even need us? Why can’t they just defend themselves and go through all this training instead of me?” Wiccer roared in frustration.

Avren tossed his brother a waterskin, before taking a seat on a nearby stump, “Father hasn’t covered Long Whisper politics yet?”

Wiccer shook his head after inhaling a mouthful of fresh stream water, “History of the human nations; not much on the elves.”

“He talk about his time in Alva?” Avren said, cracking a wide smile.

“Nothing specific. Just about the history of the war between the Queen of Chains and the Gladiator King. Why, is that important to Long Whisper? Isn’t Alva in the desert realm of Scorch?”

“No, they aren’t related. I was just curious how much Father told you about our roots.”

Wiccer edged closer to his older brother, “I know Mother and Father are from the desert lands of Scorch, but did Father fight in Alva? Did Mother? Why did they leave for Varis? It’s such a long trek to the realm of Cypress.”

Avren shook his head, “Forget that I brought it up, it’s a long tale and we don’t have that kind of time. Let me answer your original question and you can have Father tell you everything else.” Avren took out a small leather pouch of deer jerky before giving Wiccer a quick lesson, “About thirty or forty years ago, Long Whisper was a land that was occupied by various tribes of elves. They had no central leadership of any sort; not even a council. At some point, an elf by the name of Jaelyn Dawnedge united the tribes under one banner and was crowned king of Long Whisper. Not everyone agreed with such a change, particularly the warrior tribes who left for lands elsewhere.” Avren paused, “Do you see where we come in?”

Wiccer examined Avren’s cloak – an alabaster color with a silver trim, “The White Cloaks are their warrior tribe now?” he asked, “Why don’t we at least train a militia or a body of law enforcement? Surely they could at least solve their own minor problems.”

“Minor problems are indeed solved. Thievery and other small squabbles are dealt with leaders who are elected by the people of Long Whisper. Think of them like the mayors of Varis. The White Cloaks are used for much larger problems such as protecting villages from bandits and rendering justice to murderers. We also protect the crown from all threats – foreign and domestic. Do you now see why we must train so hard?”

Wiccer nodded intensely.

“Good, now pick up your sword. Back to training.” Avren said, tying his jerky pouch tightly.

“Come on, Avren, five more minutes! I want you to tell me about Alva and our parents’ role in it,” Wiccer pleaded.

“Dammit, Wiccer. Don’t give me that look,” Avren sighed.

Wiccer raised his brow and puffed his lower lip like a sad puppy.

Avren laughed, “Alright, let’s make this quick. I’ll be the one getting a beating if Father finds out I’ve been slacking on your training!”

Wiccer cheered before getting comfortable.

“Father was a sergeant who was assign–” Avren began before getting interrupted.

“Sergeant? Father wasn’t a Captain?” Wiccer said wide eyed. He had only ever known his father as a Captain.

“Back before I was born, our father was only Sergeant Newsun and he was assigned to the desert country of Alva across the Serpent Sea. Alva was at odds with the Queen of Chains, herself, Isana. Alva’s leader was Traven, who was the–”

“The Gladiator King!” Wiccer interrupted, happy to show he learned something from his lessons on political history.

“That’s right, little brother. Now quit interrupting, or else this story will take until sundown to tell.” Avren waited to see if Wiccer was going to sit quietly before continuing, “Isana was declaring war on Alva and our guild was chosen to assist King Traven. At the time, Father was to serve under Lieutenant Vivian Cutter.”

“Mother…” Wiccer whispered in awe of the story.

Annoyed, Avren briefly glared at Wiccer, “They fought countless battles together until one day Marcus was grievously injured in an ambush during a routine patrol. Vivian was the only other one left alive. She fought tooth and nail and dragged him into a nearby nomad camp. There they stayed, for months, until Marcus was ready enough to walk back to base.”

Wiccer’s face was plastered with wonder. His Father never told him war stories, “Is that where Mother and Father fell in love?”

Avren chuckled, “Not at first. She saw him as a nuisance for being so easily injured, but over time, the Newsun charm worked its magic.”

“But they didn’t stay in Alva; you and I were born in Varis…”

Avren took a deep breath. Wiccer was starting to tread on ‘that’ story. A story that he wasn’t ready to tell, “It’s true, our mother and father were married and set to be stationed at the guild headquarters in Varis. They had me and then later they had you.”

“And the rest is history.” A new, deeper, sterner voice chimed in, ending the tale before it could continue.

A muscular man with a finely trimmed black beard stood behind the two boys. His white cloak draped over his shoulders, his black leather boots were polished to a shine, and his blue dyed leather armor had a silver trim that went well with his pearl colored cloak. Their father, Marcus, was the leader of the Guard of the White Cloaks for the Long Whisper division. He was a legend within the guild for his countless missions and unrivaled swordsmanship.

“Wiccer, show me what you’ve learned.” Marcus said, folding his arms over his broad chest.

He watched as his two sons sparred in the cool autumn morning. It was an idyllic setting. He nodded his head as Wiccer made a thrust at Avren's chest, but the blow was met with the clunking sound of oak slapping oak. Marcus again nodded at both of them before he put up a hand, halting the lesson.

“Avren, a word.”

Avren tossed his practice sword to Wiccer, who made a clumsy catch. Wiccer eyed his father and brother as they walked into their cabin. The stone house smelled of moss and rain from the past couple of days. Smoke billowed from its chimney as sounds of a lightly flowing river crossed by their small patch of land. Wiccer headed inside to hear what his father had to say.

Marcus sat down in a chair by the wooden table where they ate their meals while Avren sat parallel from his father. Avren put his hands on the table, “Well?

Marcus stole a glance at Wiccer, who was still holding the practice swords. Eagerness to hear the news was plastered on his face. Marcus made a shooing motion to his youngest child, “Wiccer, this is Guild business.”

Wiccer's face drooped, “Aw, but Father, I've been training real hard. The White Cloak is in my blood. I'm practically a member!”

“Quit your whining, boy, before I tan your hide! Now be gone with you. Your brother and I have much to discuss,” Marcus said sternly.

Wiccer lowered his head and sulked away into another room. Once out of sight, he crept to the edge of the wall and held his breath to strain his hearing, hoping to eavesdrop on any bit of information he could gobble up.

Avren smiled and whispered, “You know he's still listening?”

Marcus shook his head chuckling, “If he wasn't born to be a Cloak, He'd probably be a Rabbit.” Raising his voice, he continued, “Now listen up son, I bring news from the Guild. King Jaelyn requests more Cloaks. The city he's building around the elven home tree needs more security. I want you to take over leadership there, while I stay here to finish Wiccer's training.”

Avren grinned widely. He always wanted a chance to prove his leadership skills. Although he wasn't taking over the Guild, this was a step in that direction, “You want me to take over duties in Lost Dawns? Father, I'm honored. I won't let you down.”

“See that you don't. Also, more importantly, be careful. You shouldn't trust half of those Elven Lords. Not all of them wanted to unite the tribes, let alone build a city around that tree of theirs.”

“You suspect that they've been hiring Rabbits?” Avren asked.

Marcus crossed his arms and nodded, “Aye. Though, of the eight tribes, I know not which one. So, suspect all of them until you can manage any proof.”

“When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow at sunrise, so get some good sleep. I've arranged a squad of Cloaks to go with you. Roads are dangerous these days.” Marcus turned his head to the doorway of the kitchen and the living room, “Wiccer, come in here.”

Wiccer jumped a bit, not knowing how his father knew he was there. He poked his head around the wall and shuffled in, hoping he wasn't in trouble, “Yes, Father?”

“I'll be taking over all your training. Your brother is leaving on a mission to Lost Dawns. Go prepare dinner. This will be the last meal we'll have as a family for a long time.”

“Do you feel it, Grandchild? It flows through the earth as it would flow through your soul. It is the essence of life, it is the Magi. Do you feel it?”

Koda strained his hands as he spread his fingers, reaching for any synapse of Magi that might exist in the ground. Sweat beaded down the side of his face as he struggled, “Grandfather, I don’t… I don’t feel it.”

The ancient elf threw back his massive deep blue cape to reach for his grandson’s hand, “Let me help you. Together we are bound by blood. Feel what I feel, see what I see.”

A jolt of energy spasmed up the young elf’s arm as a flash of vivid lights blinded him turning his vibrant blue eyes to a pale white. A sound hummed as it bounced through his long ears, then it all went quiet. The lights faded until he could only see the old twisting forest. His hand felt as if he were in a warm bath: relaxing, calm, tranquil.

“Do you feel it?” His mentor asked again.

“I do! I feel it!”

His grandfather released Koda’s hand, “Concentrate. Do as I say. Concentrate, young one. Do you still feel it?”

Koda melded his mind with the aether’s steady flow, “Yes, I still feel it.”

His grandfather nodded, “Hold onto it. Envelope it into your hand and embrace it.”

A fluxing shape of light transversed through Koda’s body. His eyes gaped open with awe, “Grandfather Xile, what do I do with it?” Koda asked, somewhat frightened.

“Wield it carefully, Grandchild. It is volatile in this form, for it is pure and raw. Quickly, pass it to me!”

Koda, gingerly locked fingers with Xile and the magic rapidly passed over to the more experienced elf.

“Raw magic is found only in the rarest of mana streams within our world. Only a true master can tame it. Magic that a mage uses is not in its raw form, but bred over countless generations. It is weaker in nature, but much more malleable than its raw brethren.” Xile shot his hand out towards the sky. The magic sparked in a brilliant shower of lights before firing into the air and exploding in a crack of energy.

Koda gasped at the display, “Amazing!”

The old elf hid a smile within his cowl, “You were not the first to be amazed by such power.”

Koda turned away from the remnants of the spectacle, “My Father and Uncle Tull?”

Xile waved a hand in dismissal, “If only my sons had half the interest in the Magi as you do. No, I speak of my first two students. Boys no younger than fourteen, about your age, Koda.”

Koda looked up inquisitively, “Were they Dawnedge elves?”

“They weren’t elves at all. That was my first mistake, but not my biggest… teaching them anything was my greatest failure!” Xile spat in disgust before regaining his composure, “We must keep our secrets within the family. Remember this and never make the same mistakes that I’ve made, my grandchild.”

Koda had never heard of such students and prodded his elder further, “What did they do? Why haven’t I heard of them before? What ever happened to them?”

Xile rubbed his brow, “I think it’s time for bed, Koda. We have much to do in the morning.”

Koda persisted, “Please? History is as important as anything else you are teaching me!”

“It isn’t important what became of them as long as you know whom you are to become and what you are meant to do. Koda, you must always respect the Magi; not merely as a weapon, but as something to revere, to respect, and to uphold above all else.” Xile kneeled down to Koda’s level, “Can you do this?”

Koda nodded.

“Good. Now, off to bed with you. At first light, I will have a gift for you.”

Koda began to walk away, but his curiosity got the best of him as he turned to ask a question, “Will you ever reveal all of this island’s secrets?”

Xile did not answer.

“Grandfath–”

“To bed. Now.”

Xile walked into the shadows of the forest, leaving Koda without an answer.

The sun rose as the young elf boy was shaken awake. His grandfather’s silver and white braided beard tickled Koda’s nose as he shifted from a sleepy daze.

“Rise, grandchild. They will not wait any longer for you to make a choice,” Xile said excitedly.

Koda groggily rubbed his eyes as he sat up in his moss pile bedding. He tied his long golden hair in a braid, keeping his bangs in strands behind his ears. The cave was still dark, but a dim fire glinted off the many crystal shards that jutted from the stone walls.

“Who?”

Xile smirked, “Follow and see.”

The forest of the isle of Nashoon was the lushest forest in all of Long Whisper. Its ancient trees twisted and wove its roots among themselves forming intricate paths. Moss dangled from the boughs as will o’ wisps floated within the cool mists. Streams that trickled into tiny ponds carved through the grass creating several banks. Each bank was blanketed in wild flowers and clovers. In the distance, the cracking sound of wood twisting and turning could be heard echoing through the deeper parts of the forest, for deep in the belly of the forest lay mystical beasts never seen by the elven eye. According to many tall tales, unicorns, drakes, and hippogriffs were said to take up shelter in the depths of Nashoon.

The Wolves of the Eclipse were a special breed of wolf that were infused with Magi. Their fur coats came in all sorts of exotic colors and patterns. Their blood was so potent with magic that it flared from their eyes.

“A litter of cubs were born a few moons ago. They await for you to choose a familiar.” Xile picked up a green and red colored pup. The newborn licked his face, excitedly, “This one would make a fine companion, but you must make that choice yourself.”

Koda knelt down to play with several pups. A pack of large wolves watched patiently off to the side, eyes glowing in the shadow of the trees.

“Grandfather, what is a familiar? What does that mean to me? Is it like a pet?”

Xile let the wolf pup loose to romp with his siblings, “Koda, you are training to be an Arcane Guardian. Charged to protect this island and forest from anyone that would do harm to its inhabitants and the powerful forces that lie within this land. A Wolf of the Eclipse is a partner, meant to protect and share your burden. They are not pets. You will have a lifelong bond, and from that an alliance will be born. You feel its pain, as it does for you. So, Koda, look into the eyes and hearts of each wolf. The choice will be clear once you lock onto your soul mate.”

Koda stared intently at each rascally pup, but no such connection was made. He was too distracted by the pack of larger wolves that stood by. He walked slowly to them. They sat frozen, with their eyes following Koda as he walked. Each one seemed to fade away in Koda’s mind, until a lone female was his focus. She had a deep midnight blue coat. A single eye sparked with Magi, while the other eye was fully black with a sliver of a silver iris.

“Wildeye.” Koda whispered, as he slowly reached to touch the wolf. His hands carefully caressed the wolf’s head and chest. She made a long howl in the morning air.

“You have chosen. She is a loyal one. She is well trusted by my familiar, Moon Treader.”

An old, scarred, red and gray furred wolf made an appearance from a nearby cave that served as the wolf den as he heard his name mentioned.

“He is the pack leader. And he approves of your choice.” Xile said, a wide smile across his face.

Dusk approached the island of Nashoon. Along the beaches of its shores Koda sat, his bare feet sunk into the cool sands. His new found familiar lay across his lap. A fire blazed as embers crackled from the ashy wood. Xile stood over the fire enchanting his grandchild with a wild tale.

*“Long ago, before the gods were born, dragons bigger than mountains roamed a world. Each fed on the stars themselves. Each more powerful than any deity that would live. Each a lone wolf not trusting any of the others. They endlessly roamed the aether searching for power to feed on until a dragon was born, so immense, so powerful, that it let loose a torrent of destruction onto their world.

Countless dragons would be vanquished by the cataclysm and all but seven perished. Five lay in the oceans so badly injured they were near death. The others used their powers to heal their fallen kin. They grew forests and mountains on the backs of these dragons to cover and mend their heavy wounds, but the dragons were too far gone to awaken.

More and more lands bloomed across the dragons: deserts, swamps, rivers, and lakes. But to no avail. All seemed hopeless. Despite their best efforts, the five dragons were still dying until a being from across the skies came upon them.

He was a curious deity of great knowledge and power. He imbued the comatose dragons with the Magi, keeping the dragons alive, but putting them in an eternal slumber. He then gave the dragons purpose by forging life on them. Finally he bestowed names upon these new dragon realms: Cypress, Stratus, Blight, Abyss, and Scorch.”*

Koda’s eyes widened in delight from the story, “The realms we live on are actually dragons?” he asked, amazed.

“A story, but it may yield truth.” Xile harkened back to the elder Dragon Walkers that told him the same story eons ago before pulling out a small scroll from his belt, “Koda, a carrier hawk bearing the crest of a sword and sun came this morning.” He passed the scroll to the young elf.

Koda read the message carefully, “A message from my father!”

Xile nodded sternly. “Your father wishes you to come back to Lost Dawns. He wishes you to begin to learn your position as Prince of the new nation.”

Koda was silent.

“You don’t have to go, Grandchild. You have much to learn before you take over my role as Arcane Guardian. Being a prince can wait.”

Koda wrapped his arm around Wildeye, “I have not been home in nearly five years. I have not seen nor talked to him during that time. I miss him, but–”

“He does not understand the importance of your training. He never did, nor did his brother. I urge you to stay.”

Koda hung his head, “I know you do, but becoming an Arcane Guardian is a lifelong commitment. I need to see him, it will only be for a couple of years. Then I’ll be back! I promise!”

Xile lifted his chin. Both his sons left the island and the path of becoming Arcane Guardians. Neither had interest in the forest’s history or its many secrets, but Koda was different. He relished in magic and the lore behind it. He would be back, Xile knew this, “Go, grandchild. Be with your father. Learn about your people. Then return to me and continue the path to your destiny.”

Koda hugged Wildeye in a fit of excitement, but then gasped, “What of Wildeye?”

“The bond has been made; she is affixed to you now as a nail to a cedar block. Try not to keep her in your chamber all day. She is a friend, not a pet, always remember this.” chuckled Xile.

Koda smiled, hugging his wolf, tightly, “Ready for a trip, girl?”

Wildeye let a long howl of excitement.

It was a sunrise that most Ravenshore villagers would see as just another day, but for a select few, it would be the beginning of a long and terrible nightmare. Clouds rolled in from the Eastern Sea, heavy and black. The cool air was thick with the smell of rain; perhaps an omen of things to come.

Dest steered the horse drawn wagon into the town center of Ravenshore. There the people of the small fishing town were already crowding around the traveling Black Rabbits. Some of their faces were worn with the experience. Others wore a scowl of distaste. Mothers hugged their children tightly as if this was the last time they’d see their offspring.

“Denizens of Ravenshore, we are representatives of the Black Rabbit clan. The time has come to call upon your town to help serve our deity Alanna and our clan. But it is also your chance to help serve your town, your family, and yourselves,” Dest said.

No one dared to speak out. In the beginning there were hints of protest, but the clan truly did keep the bandits at bay.

Dest, Vemrick, and Legion hopped down and started to grab the young children and line them up. Dest continued to address the people as she worked, “Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, and this won’t take long. Have your children line up quickly and quietly so that we can begin the inspection.”

Standing up straight in a single file line, the children of Ravenshore stood side by side with anxious faces, waiting for the Black Rabbit clan to take their pick of new recruits. Their mothers sobbed, watching as their fearful children flinched while being prodded and inspected for any flaws that would hinder their training.

The recruiters moved down the line, either denying a potential recruit or taking them out of the line and ushering them into their horse drawn cart.

Elucard held Jetta’s hand tightly. He looked into her face and whispered assurances that they wouldn't be picked, not this year. Jetta nodded, too stricken with fear to say anything. Despite his own promises, he still had a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that pestered him like a mosquito. He couldn’t stop thinking that this could be the year he was picked. He shook away these negative thoughts. He needed courage now.

Courage – that's what Elucard had to show Jetta. Courage that they would get through this; and that for another year, they would be free to fish, chase ladybugs, and sleep under the shade. Elucard squeezed her hand tighter as the recruiter stepped closer. Eventually he stepped in front of Jetta. The small girl squeaked as his face loomed closely in front of hers. He pawed her tiny shoulders and picked up her arms and hands. He looked into her wide, innocent eyes and shook his head, “No good, not yet.”

Elucard sighed in relief. Jetta let out a weak smile, still not fully grasping that she was to stay in the village for at least another year. Elucard nodded, smiling back. He turned to look at the gruff recruiter. He was an elf, like him. Stern with weary eyes, the recruiter’s short silver hair waved in the stormy air. He was strong with a cold demeanor and an eerie presence. Several scars criss crossed over his face and his eyes were a deep hue of red. His sword rested, sheathed, strapped to his back. It was a long, heavy two handed blade that looked sharp enough to chop Elucard in two. The man performed the same inspections that he did with the other children. Finally, he looked into Elucard's worried eyes, but Elucard did not flinch or blink. The man smirked, “You’re a bit tame now, but I see potential in you.”

The boy's jaw slouched open, gasping. The man pointed, making a motion for his companions.

“This one!”

Elucard gazed in silence, his short life was moving in slow motion as his mother screamed, clawing for her son. River grunted as he held back his hysterical wife.

“Be strong, son! Don’t let them get the best of you! You’re a Freewind! Never forget where you came from!” River shouted over the cries of Salene.

“You can’t have him! You hear me? He’s mine! He’s not like you! He’s not a Rabbit! He’ll never be one!” Salene shrieked at Legion

“He will, or he’ll die.” Legion sharply replied.

Jetta embraced Elucard tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Elucard, you can’t leave, you promised you’d always be there for me!”

The men wrestled the kids away from each other. Elucard was still stunned in disbelief that he was chosen. He was herded to the cart where three other boys sat silently. He recognized them as his schoolmates. The butcher's son, Geven; Izian, the blacksmith's apprentice; and Myler, who worked at the stable.

“You were chosen too, Elucard?” said Myler, who shivered with uncontrollable fear, “We’re never going to see Ravenshore again!”

Izian, a very strong kid from working with iron and hammers all his life, placed a worker’s hand on Myler, “We need to stick together, don’t let the Black Rabbits see our sadness. They feed on that. We got to be strong for our families, they can’t watch over us anymore.”

The three other boys nodded.

Vemrick and Dest hopped on the front of the cart, snapping the reins of the horse to move out. The man with the large sword jumped on the back of the cart with the boys. He smirked at the sorrow-filled kids, pointing at their soon to be former home.

“Say your goodbyes now, this is the last you'll see of your village.”

Izian hid away a scowl at the statement.

Elucard moved to the edge of the cart and saw his best friend running beside it. Her eyes were swimming in the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Her voice became hoarse from shouting.

“Elucard, don’t go! Please!”

Elucard's emotions flooded through him as he called back, “Jetta, I’m sorry! I won’t forget you! Please wait for me!” he turned back around, trying hard to fight the knot in his throat as tears quivered in his eyes. Ravenshore was his entire life. Everything he knew was being stripped away from him in a single moment. There had been countless children who were taken by the Black Rabbit clan, and none ever were heard from again. Black Rabbits turned them into thieves and murders. This would be his fate too.

He wouldn’t ever forget about Jetta, but maybe it would be for the best for Jetta to forget about him. Elucard sat down hard and hugged his knees.

Legion watched the boys saying their farewells. He knelt down to Elucard's eye level. Putting a heavy hand on Elucard's head, he spoke in a reassuring tone, as if he had been through something like this before, as if, he too, had once experienced this day.

“If you are to forget everything about your life here, don't forget about her. A shred of humanity could give you an edge against your enemies.”

Elucard eyed the man's grizzly features fiercely.

“And you… Did you hold onto any humanity?”

Elucard searched his eyes; the man was silent briefly before speaking.

“No.”

Camping for the night under an outcropping of granite, the four boys sat on the ground, their ankles cuffed and chained together. Dest, who was assigned to watch the boys, stared sleepily at them, while the other two were out hunting for food. Her head bobbed as she tried to keep from dozing off. However, to no avail. The hypnotic drizzling of the raindrops outside the rock was soothing to someone without much sleep.

The boys looked at each other. Careful not to wake their captor, they slowly got up and tiptoed out of the camp. With Geven taking the lead, they awkwardly dashed through the forest. The boys rushed under fallen trees and past boulders. The faint moonlight seemed faded from the heavy clouds. Thoroughly soaked, the tired boys collapsed on the muddy ground. They were out of breath from trying to gain as much distance from the Black Rabbits as possible in a dead sprint. Myler struggled on the chain.

“It's no use, we should have grabbed the key!”

“We couldn’t risk the chance of getting caught. No doubt they will cut off our hands to make a break for it.” Izian said, trying to catch his breath.

Geven glared at the ever calm Izian.

“Cut off our hands? Are you thick? They need us for recruits.”

Izian grabbed the collar of Geven’s tunic, bringing their faces close to each other. Izian’s hands were thick and callused from working with a forge hammer. His grip was strong – too strong for the squirming Geven to break free.

“Call me thick again, I dare you.”

“Thick.” Geven spat, testing Izian’s threats.

Myler shoved himself between the two boys, “Guys, this is what they want! They want us fighting against each other!”

Elucard ignored the bickering of his companions. He was more fixated on a warm glow coming from further up ahead. Glancing back towards the camp, he couldn't tell if they were being chased, but now wasn't the time to risk taking a break. They needed to find safety and shelter.

“Hey, you guys need to listen, Myler is right. Fighting won’t solve anything and we need to get moving. I think there's a camp up ahead. Maybe there will be some people who can help us out and even give us a ride back to our village.”

Izian and Geven glared at each other, but both nodded in agreement. A truce between the two seemed best. They picked up the pace and headed for the light in the forest. Their legs were sore from the weight of their wet trousers and the iron chain shackled to their ankles, but they trudged on.

Dest sat up from pretending to be asleep. Her performance was flawless as she scanned the camp for the four elven recruits. The slight jingling sound of chains echoed in the distance, nearly drowned out by the rain. Two figures appeared by her side. She looked over her shoulder before speaking to them, “Vemrick, Legion; It’s good to see you again. The recruits have taken the bait. How long do we give them before we go after them?”

Vemrick, a handsome, olive skinned elf, rubbed his hands by the fire, “I scouted the woods surrounding our position, there’s a camp of some thieves nearby, no doubt they’ll head that way.”

Legion, who recruited the Ravenshore boys, tightened his sword strap. The sound of leather cracked lightly, “Did they bother to take the key?”

Dest swung the iron key from her thin neck, “Funny. Most do, but not this batch.”

Legion moved closer to the edge of the forest and Vemrick called out to him, “Remember, we’re to break their spirits, not their bodies.”

Legion nodded, without turning to look.

Nero gripped his stomach as it grumbled in pain. He took stock of the two dead squirrels tied on the stripped branch that his companion was carrying, “Brim won’t be satisfied with dese two rodents. Can’t ye find bigger game, Lorken?”

Lorken, a scraggly man, stirred the small campfire with his sword in frustration, “Oi told yer, ain’t no critters in dese woods. Dem haunted. No animal gonna go anywhere near dese woods. We be wastin’ our time!”

“Brim is gonna be losin’ his patience with us. Yer don’ wanna see ‘em when he’s lost his top. He’ll skin us and feed us to the gang ‘imself.” Nero whined with wide, fearful, eyes.

“Ya tink I don’ know dat, Nero.” He stood up and paced back and forth in an abysmal mood. Flustered and down to his last nerve, his own hunger and the stress of finding little food was driving him over the edge, “Jus’ need to find some fat…” He began to stare at the husky bearded Nero, “Plump…game. Somethin’ dat will feed all of us…dat won’ put up much of a fight…”

Nero began to grow nervous as Lorken stared at him with his beady eyes, “Lork, buddy, ya lookin’ a bit stir crazy. Mayhaps we search the woods a bit more. Maybe a boar or deer will wander our way.”

A shaking in the bush snapped Lorken back to reality. He drew his sword and dagger and turned towards the noise. To his surprise four elven boys stumbled into their encampment, their faces covered in scratches from passing through the brush and thicket. Their clothes were ragged and covered in muck, and a long chain interconnected shackles around their ankles.

Nero grinned at Lorken. A gift from the gods had landed in their laps. The boys fell to their knees, breathing heavily.

One of them looked up with pleading eyes, “Please, Sirs, we need help.”

Lorken swayed to the escapees, twirling his dagger, “Luck be fallen ya dis day, young’un. Oi be Lorken, dis here be my associate, Nero. We’d be ‘appy to help your predicament.”

Myler gleefully smiled, “Oh thank the All-Father! You hear that, guys? We’re saved.”

“Can you help get this chain off us?” Geven asked, tugging at the bond.

“Aye, we can. Oh, but our tools be with our compatriots back at our main camp.” Lorken said, stifling a wicked grin.

The four boys looked at each other and hesitantly agreed.

Elucard spoke up, “Can you lead us there? We would greatly appreciate any help you can give us.”

Nero and Lorken smiled and bowed.

***

The rain had simmered down by the time the group reached the thieves’ encampment. A large bonfire illuminated the area where three more men sat around on logs. They stared at the boys with deep hunger in their eyes. A short, stout man with a great, wide-brimmed buckled hat welcomed the Ravenshore boys’ guides. Lorken whispered in the man’s ear. Elucard was able to make out the man’s name as “Brim.”

Brim nodded keenly at the four boys, “Lorken tells me you need our assistance.” Immediately after speaking, he beckoned the other thieves to join him as they surrounded the boys.

Brim spoke much more eloquently than Lorken and Nero, an aspect that comforted Elucard and his companions.

“Can you lead us back to Ravenshore?” asked Elucard. Hopefulness heightened in his voice. Things seemed to be going his way.

Brim flashed a toothy smile. His teeth were well taken care of and were an ivory white, “Aye, something can be arranged, provided we eat first.”

“Oh, boy! I’m starving!” Myler said as he leaped with joy.

“What’s on the menu?” Geven asked, looking around for any sort of kettle or pans.

Lorken brought his dagger under Geven’s chin, “Actually, you are!”

The elves scrambled in shock as they tripped over themselves, getting their legs tangled in the long chain. The men grabbed the children, who struggled helplessly in their grips as Brim moved closer, baring his sword.

“Hold them still, I’ll begin the carving.”

Elucard gritted his teeth in fear, now fully realizing the dire straits he and the others were in, as he tried in vain to tear himself away from Nero's grip on the collar of his tunic.

“That's it boy, make this easy for – Arrrgh!” Nero threw Elucard away as he trembled, holding his hand in the moonlight. Light glinted off a small dagger driven deep in his hand.

A calm voice echoed around the camp, “Leave the boys, it is not their time to leave the threshold of this world.”

Lorken unsheathed his cutlass and quickly swiveled his head, searching for the source of the voice. The rest of the men drew their knives and hatchets.

Brim sneered, spinning around and calling out, “Who are you? Show yourself!”

The voice continued, ignoring the question, “You have acted against my clan. The only outcome for you all is death.”

Brim shot an enraged glance at Lorken, “Clan? What clan?”

Lorken trembled, stuttering, “I-I don’ know, boss.”

Brim swerved his head back to the blackness of the shadowy woods, “These boys belong to us, who else claims them?”

Nero, shivering in his boots, shouted at his partner, “Lork, we've upset the spirits!” Nero fell to his knees, dropping his sword. Sobbing, he pleaded with the mysterious voice, “Please Master Spirit, we ain't meant no harm! We weren't gonna eat dem elf boys!”

Brim snatched Nero by the ear as he yanked him back up to his feet, “Get a grip of yourself, this isn’t some specter!”

Elucard's eyes were elven, much more adaptable to the night then the human bandits. His mouth slowly opened in awe as he saw a shadowy figure drop silently between two of the thieves. Pulling out a large sword from its back, a flash of steel cleaved through the misty air as it lopped the head off of one of the men. Blood sprayed from the severed neck of the now headless bandit as he tipped over and slammed on the forest floor.

Brim furiously shouted for his men to pay attention to the assailant in the center of their view. The figure wasted no time dispatching another thief as he thrust his blade within his gut.

A hatchet swung in the night, as the ghostly figure sidestepped and connected with a fierce back kick to a bandit’s jaw, hurling him into another as they both crashed into the campfire. A blood curdling scream erupted from the tragic victims.

Lorken cried out, his face a sickening white with fear, “What are you?!”

The threatening individual slashed expertly across Lorken’s throat. As he fell to his knees, choking on oozing blood, the attacker answered his question, “A Black Rabbit.”

Brim pushed Nero in front of himself, “Nero, my friend, do me a favor and slay him and you’ll forever be my right hand man!”

Nero, blubbering in tears and snot, slid to grovel at the assassin’s feet, “I beg ye, Master Rabbit. Spare me, I ain’t know dem boys were yer kin. I’m innocc–” His pleas were cut short as the Rabbit snapped his neck.

The assassin approached Brim, staring him down with an emotionless face, “These woods belong to us. These boys belong to us. You…”

Brim dropped his rapier and took out a coin purse. He tossed it to the Black Rabbit’s feet and groveled, “You can have my weapon and my money, leave me be. Let’s just forget this night ever happened.”

Elucard watched as his savior dashed in a shadowed blur and cut down Brim in a single, bloody, motion.

“You belong to Alanna.” the assassin finished.

Geven, Izian, and Myler hugged each other, frozen in fear as their mysterious elven rescuer stepped forward to them. He sunk his long sword into the ground, and went to one knee, rummaging for a cloth from Nero’s bag. Without taking notice of the shivering boys, he wiped the blood off his sword.

Elucard shook his head in astonishment, “You took on six men at once! What are you?”

Legion discarded the rag, “I am that which can not be seen. You must tell stories of my acts to truly believe I exist.”

“A ghost?” Elucard asked, taken aback by the riddle.

“An ideal.”

Elucard looked up at the older elf. He was dressed in black with a deep purple cloak draped over his broad shoulders and a mask that covered everything below his eyes. Staring in wonderment at his rescuer as he sheathed his weapon, he looked away only when the elf noticed him gawking.

The man smirked, “Legion.”

Elucard looked back at him with puzzlement, “Huh?”

“My name is Legion.”

***

The tree line on the outskirts of Lost Dawns was still. The only movement came from the slowly ebbing shadows of the branches caused by the shifting clouds that passed through the white moonlight. There, the two assassins held themselves just within reach of that glow.

Vada was First Blade, a position that was the right hand of High Blade Avalon, third in line to command the clan. A heavy mask hid her scarred but beautiful features. She was human, but her training allowed her senses to be sharp enough to be comfortable with the night. She did not command the same presence as her High Blade did. Although equal in skill, Vada prefered to stand in the wake of Avalon to lend her support and skill from behind the shadows.

Elisa appeared at Vada's side. Unlike her First Blade or other Black Rabbit peers, Elisa Moonshard was a Shadow Elf. A rare breed of elf that bore gray skin and deep purple hair, Shadow Elves hailed from a distant land. While most Black Rabbits were drafted from villages as children, Elisa came to the clan of her own volition to seek the skill to one day bring the clan’s services to the kingdom she left. With exotic beauty and the cunning to match, she was slowly making a name for herself within the Rabbits. If she were to succeed in her mission, her dreams would become a reality.

“Elisa, what have you found out?” Vada spoke in a low, emotionless voice.

“My First Blade, a roaming patrol heads to the north, they won’t trouble us.”

Vada nodded as she spotted a faint glow of a lantern bobbing towards the north.

“A traveler approaches us. He wears rags and a long cloak. Despite his clothing, he wears a nobleman’s signet on his finger. No doubt he is whom we are waiting to speak to.” Elisa continued.

“Well done, Elisa. Is he armed?”

“A dagger hangs from a belt behind his waist.”

The traveler came into sight as he drew closer to the assassins. His clothes were indeed, shoddy, but a gold ring glinted in the moonlight. Vada beckoned him to follow her deeper into the forest until they could be no longer seen from the road.

Vada made a subtle gesture, signaling Elisa to unleash a blade’s edge at the traveler’s neck.

“You dare draw a blade on me? Is this how the Black Rabbits do business?” The traveler’s shrill voice cracked, flabbergasted with his situation.

Vada reached for his dagger and tossed it aside, “You were requested to bring no weapons. The last thing we need is to be double crossed before business begins.”

The man chuckled nervously before the sword’s edge dug deeper into his chin, “What I'm about to pay you for is treason against my king. The least I should be allowed to do is arm myself.”

“Elisa, let him go.” Vada waited for her companion to sheath her blade, and return to her side, “Your signet – It’s not of the eight. We were under the impression that one of the eight tribes would be hiring us.”

The traveler fidgeted with his ring, “I am of a lesser house, but a nobleman all the same. However, you are correct. One of the eight does wish of your services.”

“Which.” Vada had a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I can not say–”

Elisa began to draw her blade again.

“But, know that I represent that tribe in this transaction. Despite all the secrecy, you shall be greatly compensated.” The nobleman sped up his words before Elisa could act.

“You have our payment ready at the disclosed location?”

“For a payment that size, my employer expects results.” the man said, folding his arms.

Vada turned to Elisa, “Are you sure that you want to do this mission alone? The city is large. There is no shame in asking for help.”

“First Blade, I work best alone. No chance for someone to get captured and spill my secrets. A bigger city just means more places to hide and strike. To rely on just myself, I can do; relying on others will be a hindrance,” Elisa said, bowing to Vada.

“Construction of the city must not be completed. King Jaelyn must suffer for his arrogance!” The nobleman spat

Vada turned and bowed to her customer, “He will.”

The Black Rabbit compound was a retreat deep in the forests of Long Whisper. It was a broad, square structure with sparring grounds spanning across its center. It housed recruits and veterans, as well as officers. The camp was built out of a clearing in the woods. It was laid out like a temple compound, with several barracks buildings surrounding a main structure. Two small lodges off to the sides served as an infirmary and an armory. Within the compound were various training grounds and set down a secluded path was a small shrine dedicated to the clan’s patron deity, Alanna.

Past that, a waterfall poured into a river that fed into the city of Lost Dawns. However, the compound served as more than just a training camp. The stalwart fortress of the Black Rabbits also contained a school where the younger recruits were educated in the complex politics and history of the realms. The clan itself was headed by three figures: the Silent Master, High Blade and First Blade. The Silent Master was rarely seen. He ruled the clan from the shadows and did not make an appearance unless it was truly needed. Most commands came from the High Blade or the First Blade, who served as their lieutenant.

The Ravenshore recruits joined a set of recruits from other villages as they lined up in front of a small cadre of senior Black Rabbits. The other boys and girls were just as terrified as Elucard and his fellow villagers. The children cowered and sniveled as the Black Rabbit veterans snickered and smiled at them. A loud aggressive command broke through their minds.

“Shut up and listen!” a man said, pacing by the recruits. His loud voice and angry demeanor made it clear that he was some sort of drill instructor. He wore a tight black vest with silver buckles. His arms were muscular and bare except for the swirling pattern of intricate tattoos that wrapped around his bicep, “Welcome to your new home, kiddies. Your old home is just a fragment of glass that, in time, will be crushed into a fine powder to be blown away by the wind.”

“Says you!” cried a rebellious recruit. No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than he was left sprawled out on the ground by a swift, heavy fist.

The drill instructor continued, “Your families want you here. They want you to become more than just farmers and tradesmen. They want you to become Black Rabbits so that you can serve this world on a larger scale than just milking a cow for some nameless village. If this weren’t true, they wouldn’t have given you up.”

Several younger recruits broke out into sobs.

“Your family doesn’t want you, but we do. We want you to be ambitious and strong. We want you to survive, to serve. Rebel, and you’ll slow your training. A poorly trained Rabbit is a dead Rabbit. When a Rabbit fails, it fails everyone, not just itself. We don’t tolerate failure. Failure means death to a Rabbit.”

Elucard gritted his teeth, hanging on to each word. He needed to survive for himself, but more importantly he needed to survive for Jetta. She was waiting for him, counting on him.

The instructor pointed his finger at Elucard’s chest, “You, where is home for you?”

“Ravensh–” Elucard started but was violently interrupted by a fast punch to his gut. He agonized in pain as he coughed and sucked in air.

“Do you not listen, boy? This is your home!” The instructor loomed over the crippled Elucard, “Help him up,” He commanded, pointing at Myler and Geven, “You’ll be divided into classes and given instructors. They’ll teach you how to both handle weapons and use your body as a weapon. You’ll learn to harness silence and shadows. We’ll educate you on politics and how to manipulate the weak minded. By the time we’re done with you, you’ll be why children are afraid of the dark.”

***

“You better not be taking a nap, Myler! Get off your stomach and finish that push-up!” Baines shouted. Elucard and the Ravenshore boys were under the watchful eyes of the Blade Brothers: Ridge and Baines. The two human instructors were well built and wore black leather armor with gray masks that covered up the lower parts of their face. Baines had black hair that he had styled in a spiky mohawk, while Ridge had blonde hair that he tied in a long braid that fell down his back. They were Blade Brothers, bound by the sword instead of blood. Partners that knew each other well.

They promised brutal training conditions, and Elucard’s first week in the compound proved to be relentlessly agonizing.

His first week was stamina training; building up strength and speed so that he could take more and more physical punishment each day.

“I-I can’t lift my body, Drill Instructor Baines” Myler spat a mixture of words, sweat, and saliva as he collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

Baines grabbed a tuft of the boy’s chestnut hair and forced him to pull his body upwards, “Get to your feet, recruit. You disgust me!”

Izian had been holding back his spite and frustration for the Black Rabbits all week long. He saw himself as the leader of their small crew, and he considered each of the three to be his brothers. Each day his nerves were pushed a bit further and each day he swallowed the humiliation cast by the two instructors. However, now the ward was cracking, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to stand up to them,” he whispered to Geven, who was standing to his side in the formation.

“Izian, don’t even think about it!” hissed back Geven.

Izian stepped forward from the line of recruits. His actions were immediately spotted by Ridge, who asked, “You have something to say, Recruit Izian?”

“I’ve had enough of your bullying and this life. I’m going home and my friends are coming with me!”

Ridge nodded as if he was in understanding with his words. He walked up to Izian and looked down into the boy’s eyes, “You’ve got guts, kid, but you won’t leave. You know why?”

Izian didn’t flinch, “Why’s that?”

Ridge placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gently spoke in his ear, “Your friends won’t follow you.”

Baines called for Geven, Myler and Elucard to come front and center. All three stared blankly at Izian, “Well, Ravenshore Recruits, will you be leaving us to join your leader?” asked Baines with a thick helping of mockery hanging in his voice.

All three bowed their heads to look away from their friend. Izian was crushed, “Guys, come on, we have to leave. Our families are waiting for us!” Izian pleaded.

“They fear us more than they respect you, recruit,” Ridge said while chuckling.

“Myler, you don’t want to be here. Come on now, I can protect you! Let’s go home,” Izian said, trying to reach Myler’s thoughts.

“You can’t protect us, Izian. We tried to escape, and if it weren’t for Legion, we’d have been dead! There’s no leaving the Rabbits, No one has, no one will!” Geven asserted.

Izian ran to Elucard, “Elucard, think of Jetta.”

Elucard looked at Izian with sorrow in his eyes. Izian’s words stung him. Of course he thought of Jetta, that’s all he had ever thought about since he was brought to this dark place. But it was the reality of the situation that nailed him down. The Black Rabbits were a strong gale that could not be broken through. If he was going to see Jetta or his home ever again, he needed to survive the storm that was set before him.

“Elucard, let’s get out of here.” Izian tried again.

“Izian, stop. It’s over. They’re right.” Elucard said in a low, broken tone.

Ridge walked over to Izian, “Will you be leaving then?”

Izian balled his fists and fought back tears. The weight of his situation came crashing down on him, but he tried to stay strong for the other recruits, “I won’t leave my friends behind,” he said as he fell back in line.

“A wise choice, Izian,” Ridge said, “Now, let’s continue. One hundred crunches, then fifty laps around the compound… Go!”

***

Three weeks had passed. Elucard kept himself occupied by trying to stay awake during history and politics lectures. He had little free time with physical and agility training squished in between his schooling and chores. Over time, his scrawny body was turning toned and strong. When he first arrived, he struggled to manage even five push-ups, but now he could do ninety without breaking a sweat. Mentally, he was getting to be as sharp as the blades he trained with. He found it hard to believe that there was a time that he couldn’t name a single elf of nobility, but now he was well versed in the entire political history of the eight noble tribes. He gobbled up every lesson that the Black Rabbits fed him. The life that he saw as an enemy was turning into a valued ally.

“A Black Rabbit kills without thought or remorse and fears no man,” said Ridge as he paced around his class, “The moment in which a Black Rabbit chooses to fight decides the success of the mission. You must choose the proper time to strike, and when it is wiser not to fight, you must rely on stealth.”

Ridge stood with his class looking down at a path of twigs and dead leaves. The forest towered around them and rays of light stretched their long, shimmering fingers through the woods. Shadows, still fearful of the light that reached through the canopy, hid among the debris on the forest floor.

Baines stood at the other end of the path and called back to the class, “Navigate the path slowly and silently. Move with lightness in your step. Breathe steadily and avoid what light you can. Embrace silence and shadows and you will learn to master stealth.”

Ridge shoved a recruit forward, “Recruit Crev, you first.”

Crev took a single step on a twig and it broke under his weight. A resounding ‘snap’ echoed in the woods. Crev instantly fell to a knee as a leather strap whipped across his back.

“An incentive not to fail,” Ridge said as he recoiled the leather whip. He turned to the rest of the students, “Begin.”

Night turned to morning as the recruits gingerly moved through the path. Elucard winced, his back raw from his share of failures, but took note of all that went wrong and practiced to overcome each flaw found in his technique. After a couple of days, the recruits were able to pass through the trial with little sound – albeit very slowly – and please their proctors.

“You’ve done well, recruits. It would behoove you to practice this course in your free time. The more effort you put into each aspect of your training, the better an assassin you’ll become as a whole.”

***

A raw knuckled fist bludgeoned Elucard in the side of his face. He spun around helplessly as part of his vision faded to black. The elven boy collided into the stoney ground as his blood splattered across the rocks.

“Recruit Elucard, what did you do wrong?”

It had been two months since he was taken from Ravenshore and inducted into the Black Rabbit lifestyle. This was the first week of hand to hand combat training, “Learn to fight with your hands before you can learn to fight with a blade,” That’s what his instructors told them.

Elucard’s hands were tied tightly behind his back and thirty pound weights were attached to each of his legs. Moving was awkward, but that was all part of the training. He had to learn to avoid getting hit, but not because he feared the hit. His opponent did not bear the same handicap.

Elucard had been hit. A lot. His nose was broken, his left eye was swollen shut, and thick strands of blood stretched down from his chin and clung to the ground.

“I let him hit me, Drill Instructor Baines.” Elucard said, spitting out a mouthful of dark blood.

“Why aren’t you unconscious yet then? This is the seventeenth hit you’ve taken to the face!”

Elucard was faint from the beating, but he didn’t want to give in. Rabbits frowned on weak recruits, and he didn’t want to be frowned upon, “When his punches hit less like a gentle breeze, maybe then he’ll be able to knock me out!”

The recruits burst with the sound of laughter. Baines shook his head and smiled, “Recruit Fallon, are you going to take that from him?”

Fallon’s ears were red to the tip with embarrassment. He watched as the half aware Elucard lifted his chin and made kissing sounds that only frustrated him further.

“No sir!” he cried as he threw a flurry of punches.

Elucard anticipated the barrage of fists. He wasn’t just taking hits because he was too weighed down to dodge, he was studying the sloppy attacks of his opponent. Mustering the rest of his energy, Elucard ducked beneath Fallon’s attacks, and rushed a knee into his groin.

Being as big as Fallon was for a boy, he went down hard from such a severe strike.

Ridge untied Elucard before calling over the medic to look at the boy’s mangled face.

“Tired of being the punching bag, Recruit?” he chuckled.

“I was done having him make me look like a failure,” answered Elucard.

“Well said, Recruit.”

“Congratulations recruits, you’ve learned the basics of swordsmanship. Some of you have picked it up better than others, so we’ll be pairing you off based on your potential skills,” Baines said.

“Hold on, Baines. I say these recruits have earned a bit of fun. Let’s see what they really learned. Let’s have the two most promising blade wielders among them spar.” Ridge looked the batch of anxious recruits over before pointing at Elucard and Crev, “You two. Show us what you’ve got.”

Ridge tossed the two nervous boys practice blades. Their single-edged steel blades were left unsharpened to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but their weight was identical to the real thing. It would be very difficult to slice off a limb with blades as dull as these, but the boys could still leave a painful welt if they tried. He walked between the two boys and looked each up and down.

“Give us a show.” Ridge held his arm between them and then raised it quickly into the air, marking the start of the sparring.

Elucard held his blade in an inverted position and took a shy, defensive stance. Crev rushed forward and slashed rapidly at the elf. Elucard took a quick breath and dodged backwards. Juking to the side, he slid around his opponent and hefted a heavy side kick to Crev's ribs. The boy went crashing into a tree, rubbing his side. Baines leaned over to Crev's side, inspecting the bruise. He nodded his head, “A clean kick, but it won't kill your enemy. Elucard, show us a killing blow!”

Elucard nodded slowly, breathing hard. In the village of Ravenshore, he was the son of a fisherman. He was expected to be meek and quiet, never to take up arms and kill someone. He was Elucard Freewind, a good kid with no bright future, but a rather dull, peaceful one. Dull like the blade he held in his hand. However, here his future was one of a killer; being taught to hone a non-existent blood thirst; being taught to have a keen eye for weaknesses to exploit. Now his future had a real purpose and people would depend on him to shape the future of the world. For once in his life he was important, or at least his actions would be. But first, he needed to get through this sparring match.

Elucard rushed in and delivered a blow of dull steel to Crev's already bruised side. Crev dropped his blade and held his ribs, taking a knee. Elucard smiled and bowed to him. Baines patted Elucard's shoulder, “Very good. That strike would have cut through his stomach, spilling his guts. Only divine intervention could have saved him then.”

“And the gods know not to interfere with Black Rabbit’s marks.” A figure dropped from the branches above and landed by the side of Baines and Ridge. Elucard immediately recognized him as Legion. He scanned the dirty and beaten faces of the new recruits until landing on a still smiling Elucard, “I've been watching you, boy. You pick things up well. I'd like to spar with you.” Legion turned to the instructors, “Baines, give Elucard your blade.”

Elucard's smile vanished as he took the sword from Baines, but he held the blade firmly in his hand. Legion unsheathed his large sword and hoisted it on top of his shoulder. With his free hand he beckoned Elucard to attack him.

The crowd of recruits began whispering amongst themselves as Elucard stood frozen in fear. Legion's ears drooped in disappointment, “Fine, I guess I'll just snap you out of your daze.” Quick as a cat, Legion swung his blade in a horizontal arc. The blade was not long enough to reach Elucard, but the wind still cut into the boy’s gut. The impact threw Elucard backwards into a tree, knocking the sword from his grip.

Legion frowned, shaking his head, “You had so much promise.”

Elucard, shook off the momentary dizziness from the blow. Looking down, he pawed the wound across his stomach. An overwhelming feeling of pain set into Elucard's wound. He doubled over and dread set in: dread that there was still much more pain to come. Maybe his life back home was boring and simple, but it didn't involve this level of pain or fear. Tears began to blur his vision. In a flash Legion closed the distance and lifted Elucard’s frail body higher against the tree. His grip clenched around Elucard's young elven throat. Elucard had no choice but to look into Legion's cold eyes, “To whom do you pray, Elucard? Father, god of creation? Jedeo, goddess of righteousness? Maybe you hate me right now and want to pray to the god of hate and evil, Dhalamar. That's it, isn't it? You want the dread lord himself to strike me down with a bolt of dark magic?”

Elucard could barely breathe, but he managed to gargle a weak response, “Father!”

Father or the All-Father, was who he was raised to pray to. He created the fish that his Pa’s net dragged from the shore. He was a kind deity and never used his powers to smite those that didn't follow him. The other gods that shared in his covenant believed in defending peace and prosperity.

Legion tightened his grip and threw Elucard to the ground, “Father has abandoned you. None of the gods have love for you now that you’re becoming a Rabbit… except one.”

Elucard wanted to play possum and wish all the pain away. Legion's words were like a stake through his heart. The despair of knowing that everything that he knew and loved wasn't here to protect him any longer tore through him. Elucard shut his eyes tight while Legion's words echoed in his mind.

None of the gods have love for you now that you’re becoming a Rabbit… except one.

Legion loomed above Elucard's broken body and eased in to whisper into the elf's long ears, “Only Alanna will embrace you in her wings. She is the goddess of death, and a Black Rabbit's only salvation. As a Rabbit, you will be given a spot in her army in the next life, and with our training, you will live to avoid the Roaming Plane and will be Alanna's messenger of death. However, if you wish to die now, you will die a coward and a disgrace.”

Elucard's eyes snapped open, now carefully listening to Legion as he continued.

“You don't want that, do you? I saw a sense of wonderment in your eyes that night when I rescued you. You want the life of a Rabbit. You want to command respect, you want the discipline, you want your life to mean something. Elucard, it's within your grasp, all of it. But, you have to get through this first. You have to prove to us all that you deserve it. Now, get up.”

Legion’s words hit home. Everything he wanted from the Black Rabbit lifestyle was in those choice words. He rose to his feet, ignoring the pain pulsing from the gash on his stomach. He wanted – no, had – to prove that he wasn't a child anymore, that he was someone that could protect Jetta, that he was a Rabbit. Gritting his teeth, Elucard planned his next move.

Legion smirked as he narrowed his eyes. He was given that speech when he was Elucard's age and, like Elucard, it inspired him to take the path that led to a life immersed in the art of Alanna – the art of death. Legion positioned himself into an aggressive stance with his sword raised over his head pointing at his target. He wanted to see if Elucard was serious now. A deep cut down the shoulder would make or break the young elf.

“Elucard, you asked what I was, once. Do you remember what I said?”

Elucard shuffled his feet sideways, circling his opponent. He remembered that night very clearly. It was a keystone in his new life. Legion’s words were as clear as the sky on a summer’s day.

“You are an ideal.”

Legion nodded, “All Black Rabbits are ‘eidolons.’ Anyone can be a killer or an assassin. A Black Rabbit must become more than just a shadow. We must live in one’s mind and dreams. We must be the whisper in the ear; the shadow that follows the sun. We are not the reason, but the drive. Are you prepared to become an ideal, Elucard?”

“I am!” Elucard shouted.

“Then show me!”

Legion leaped forward, slashing down with a wind-sundering cut, but Elucard was anticipating the attack and dove sideways rolling towards his blade. Elucard grabbed it and charged headlong, brandishing the weapon. Legion, though taken pleasantly by surprise, didn't allow Elucard's advance and whipped Elucard in the face with a hefty roundhouse kick. The boy went down hard. Elucard growled through his teeth, sucking in the pain. He rolled to the side, and narrowly avoided a driving blade through his shoulder. Elucard jumped up and slashed low at Legion's left leg. Legion dodged nimbly, jumping backward and performed a crisscross of wind slashes that exploded into Elucard. Blood erupted from the “X” like mark on Elucard's chest.

Sliding back, Elucard fell to a knee, exhausted from the match. Salty sweat dripped from his forehead. Legion walked forward, stopping shy of Elucard, “Do you give in? You were never meant to win this fight.”

Elucard tightened his grip on the blade's handle. He took a wild leap, exerting the last of his strength in a final attack, “I haven't proven myself yet!”

Legion was caught off guard from the outburst. His eyes slid to Elucard's slicing blade and caught it with his hand in mid swing, as it just grazed his cheek. Had the boy been stronger, the sword would have cut through Legion's hand and slain him where he stood.

Elucard dropped down and collapsed. Legion tossed Elucard's blade to the ground. As he turned to walk away, he coolly spoke to Ridge, “See that the boy receives medical attention.” Legion took a glance at Elucard who was being helped up by several of his peers. He shook his head with an admiring smile.

***

Legion bowed his head and knelt in the presence of the High Blade, Avalon. She was pacing around him, attempting to read why he had requested to see her. Also within the quarters was Vada, Avalon's First Blade and Blade Sister. She leaned against the wall, wondering the same thing.

Avalon finally stopped in front of Legion, “Word on the wind says that you made a cameo at Baines’ and Ridge's training session today. Is that what this is about?”

Legion looked up. It was only an hour ago that he was sparring with Elucard. Within that hour he thought ceaselessly about the boy's guts and aptitude. With proper molding he could get to be as proficient as Legion himself was. The clan could harness those skills. However, Legion also knew that the boy would waste away under the tutelage of a poor teacher. He didn't doubt Baines’ and Ridges’ skills, but they had less prowess than he. No, Elucard needed a great teacher. Someone that he trusted, but the only one he could rely on for this task was himself.

Legion collected himself before speaking, “High Blade, I–” He hesitated slightly, “I wish to take a recruit under my wing.”

“So this was more than just an appearance? You took a shining to one of those kids?” Avalon grinned. In the years she had known Legion, she had never known him to be a teacher. He was a good team member and a solid ally, but not a teacher.

“I see much in one named Elucard. I don't want to see his potential go to waste.”

Avalon looked to her First Blade, who nodded in agreement, “Very well, Legion” she said eyeing the fresh cut on his cheek, “Consider Elucard your apprentice. If he fails, you fail. When he succeeds, you succeed. Like a Blade Brother, he is now bound to you.”

Legion nodded and bowed. There was much work to be done.

“Dawnedge, Leafsong, Dreamstar, Baneberry, Redroot, Raindancer, Breezerunner, and…” Young Koda furrowed his brow trying to remember the eighth noble elf tribe. His teacher whacked a ruler down upon his old wooden desk. The desk rattled with the sharp noise as wood met wood. Koda snapped out of a shallow trance and rapped out the final tribe, “Moonfall!”

His teacher smiled, clearly pleased with her young student. She strolled casually to the blackboard and chalked out the eight tribes. She turned her head, glancing keenly at Koda. Tipping her spectacles down, she asked her next question.

“Young Prince, of all elven tribes found in Long Whisper, why are these eight particular tribes considered to be noble?”

Koda pondered this question, but only momentarily.

“These were the tribes that joined together to form an alliance to create Long Whisper. They elected my trib-, I mean, the Dawnedge tribe to lead the alliance. All other tribes wanted no part in the creation of a nation.”

“Excellent! Now, for a harder query: Which tribe betrayed King Jaelyn?”

Looking at the blackboard, Koda carefully read each name written there. He carefully considered his choices. He knew the answer, but it was asked confusingly.

“Ms. Tabitha, you asked a trick question.”

Tabitha smirked; the prince was keen.

“Did I, young Prince?”

“Yes, ma'am. There were no tribes that betrayed my father, just a single elf. He attempted to poison my father while at a dinner party. However, my father's would be assassin was betrayed by his own tribe.”

“Very good, what was his name? What became of him?”

“His name was Ryjin. Ryjin Leafsong. His own tribe shunned him, stripping him of his nobility. Father exiled him from Long Whisper. What happened to him from there, I wouldn't know. I know the Leafsongs were forgiven for Ryjin's deeds. Though I hear there is still mistrust among the other tribes.” Koda gave a quick glance at the clock that quietly ticked above the doorway.

Tabitha began to erase the board, chuckling, “You're right, my prince, time is up. Go meet up with that wolf of yours. She must be dying to see you again.”

***

King Jaelyn strolled the bustling streets of the new city still undergoing construction. Everyday the city's economy grew and a new shop sprouted up. The gigantic tree at the heart of the city was once the elder tree of all the elven tribes. However, once the eight noble tribes crowned Jaelyn as their leader and king of their alliance, he made the unpopular decision of constructing a city around it.

Lost Dawns, you will be my shining legacy.

“My King!”

Jaelyn turned to find his brother and adviser briskly jogging to catch up to him.

“Tull, Brother! A fine day in Lost Dawns, eh?”

Tull, waved a hand, and bent over to catch his breath, “A fine day indeed, I have your report, it’s not good news.”

Jaelyn waved his hand ignoring the last part of Tull's response, “How goes my son's teaching? I feared Koda wouldn't pay attention to Tabitha Breezerunner unless she floated the chalk with the Magi. That boy's head is stuffed with all those magic lessons from our father.”

Tull frowned at the subject being changed. He answered quickly, hoping to catch Jaelyn’s attention with the content of the report, “Koda's teaching goes well. He’s picked up on history and politics quickly. Now for the report, my King–”

“Where is my son? No doubt his class is over by now. I want to show him the new bookshop that opened today.”

Interrupted again. It was as if Tull's brother was doing this on purpose, “I saw Koda walking around with his familiar. Now, about this report, it’s very important–”

“Ah, yes, a familiar. I’m not sure I like him being raised to take on our old man’s role as Arcane Guardian. It may have been a dream we once had, but we grew to realize it was nonsense. Remember, Tull?”

“Indeed, life changed fast when the tribes chose the Dawnedge to lead. Fiona would be proud that her son is spending time with you…take advantage of that and remember he is not some heir to be groomed.”

Jaelyn raised an eyebrow from the remark, “My son will choose the proper path; he doesn’t need to be led.” Finally, Jaelyn eyed the parchment with a worried look. Since the beginning of Lost Dawns’ construction, workers and townsfolk had been dying in mysterious accidents or falling ill. What kind of horrible news would befall his city today?

Tull took the silence as a cue to read, “My King, as of last night, three construction workers have fallen ill after a night of eating out. They did not survive the sunrise.”

“Enough! Enough of all of this. They did not fall ill, they were poisoned! They did not die in some mysterious accident, they were sabotaged! They did not go missing, they were murdered! I am no fool, so do not treat me as such!”

Tull rolled the parchment back up. He attempted to avoid his older brother's gaze, but to no avail. Tull spoke quietly, “Brother, the White Cloak that you sent for has arrived.”

Jaelyn clapped his hands together, “I’ve heard much of this Marcus Newsun. His exploits are what legends are made of, let’s go meet him. Where has he set up?”

“The old Ruens’ temple, my King,” Tull said, hiding a stressful look.

***

Ruens was the patron god of magic and insight, a favored deity of worship for most elves. The temple was a small, run down abbey that had been long abandoned after the Arcana War. It now served as a base of operations for the White Cloaks in Lost Dawns, as a proper barracks was yet to be built.

The rickety floorboards creaked as rats scurried away from the opening oak doors. Jaeyln strode in, his face plastered with excitement. Tull hung his ears low, avoiding any eye contact from his brother.

Jaeyln bellowed out a long call, which bounced and echoed amongst the large interior, “Hello, Captain Newsun? It is I, the King! I’ve come to welcome you to our great city!”

Avren popped his head around the corner, dressed in simple civilian attire, a pencil in the fold of his ear and a look of exhaustion strewn across his face. In his hands were several scrolls. Upon seeing the king and his adviser, he immediately dropped his papers and ran to the presence of the elven king, bowing graciously.

“My King, forgive me, I’ve been hard at work since I arrived yesterday morning. I inherited this mess from whoever handled the scrolls, blueprints, and documents of the city’s construction.”

Jaeyln looked Avren up and down. A look of confusion replaced his excitement, “You are younger than I imagined you, Captain Newsun.”

“Sergeant, my king; I am not an officer just yet.” Avren corrected.

“You’re only a Sergeant? You were hailed as a hero during the war against the Queen of Chains. You lead Varis through the Baneblood plague. You battled the pirates on the Serpent Sea. They’ve written plays about your exploits and you are still just a Sergeant?”

Avren raised an eyebrow.

“My King, this is not Marcus Newsun, this is his son, Avren Newsun.” explained Tull.

Jaelyn clicked his tongue in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

“His son?”

“My king, he came highly recommended, from Captain Marcus himself.” Tull said.

“My King, I’ve successfully led patrols all across Varis. I know I’m up to the task of dealing with Black Rabbits!” said Avren zestfully.

Jaelyn cocked his head. He knew of the incidents happening in his city were the work of ill intent, but he never could place a face or name for that which ran rampant in his city, “Black Rabbits? What are they?”

Avren grew serious, “Not a ‘what’, but a ‘who.’ They are a clan of assassins who operate exclusively in Long Whisper. We have been doing our best to look into their activities, but they have proved to be an extremely elusive foe. They are deadly and not to be taken lightly. I know, without a doubt, at least one is in Lost Dawns.”

Jaelyn furrowed his brow as his temper rose, “Who leads them?”

“We don’t know who leads them, but we are aware of how their infrastructure works.” Avren paused before answering the leading question, “They have two high ranking officers: a High Blade and a First Blade. The High Blade works as a captain, giving out orders with the First Blade serving as a lieutenant.”

“If the High Blade is just the captain, then who is the general?” Jaelyn asked, very interested in the information.

“Someone called ‘The Silent Master’ whose identity is still a mystery.”

“These Black Rabbits, how long have they been operating in our country?” it was Tull’s turn to ask a question.

“We don’t know exactly. We are under the impression that it has been as long as the Dawnedges have been in power, but this is just hearsay. Since they operate only in Long Whisper, we wouldn’t know for sure since we haven’t been assigned to this country for very long,” Avren responded, slightly wincing at the king’s agitation with the lack of knowledge Avren had of this enemy.

“Well what do you know? Do you have any idea where they might be operating from?” The king’s frustration was clearer than clean water.

“My King, we still know so little of them. We have only what we’ve heard from word of mouth to go by.”

“Well, who hired them to sabotage my city?” the king roared back in frustration.

“We don’t know that either. I suspect one of your lords.” Avren said, quickly regretting his most recent response.

“How dare you accuse my nobles of such treachery!” Jaelyn hissed.

Tull was quick to step in, “Brother, it is not far-fetched that one of your noblemen could be behind this; do not forget Ryjin. He was a Leafsong. It was an unpopular decision to unite the tribes. It was an equally unpopular decision to build a city with our Elder Tree as the centerpiece.”

Jaelyn rubbed his chin in thought.

“If I may, my King,” said Avren, “You have many enemies; The Guard knew that coming here. We must suspect everyone, but I will not take any action until I have proof. Until then my number one concern is the safety of the people of this city. Trust me when I say that these Rabbits will be caught, and hanged,” the young White Cloak had determination overflowing in his voice, “As we speak I have my men scouring the city for any information on these vermin.”

Jaelyn spat on the ground, “Good. Rabbits make for a fine stew.”

***

The crashing sound of leather boots and heavy armor bounded through the small abbey. Shouting echoed around the foyer as the cries of agonizing pain spilled through the halls.

Avren raced to meet his squad of White Cloaks, and his eyes widened when he saw the scene that was before him. Two Cloaks braced a third man who was bleeding heavily from his neck and left side. Blood soaked through his tunic and trousers, dripping into a puddle forming on the ground.

Behind them was a Cloak holding a chain that bound a shifty looking elf. He had clearly been beaten up a bit, judging by the welt under his eye and the lower fat lip that matched the shiner.

Avren assessed the chaos of the situation and first barked commands before asking much needed questions, “Clear that table, put Jefferson on it! There are towels and bandages in the storage! Grab them and get him patched up!”

“What of the prisoner, sergeant?” asked one of the men.

“Tie him to a chair. Once Jefferson is patched up, I want a full report of what happened!” Avren said.

An hour went by before the injured Jefferson’s cries were just groans and he slowly passed out. Avren dried his bloodied hands and changed his shirt to a fresher one before addressing his corporal.

“Higgins, what in the name of the All-Father happened out there?”

Higgins’ weary face was pale and tired from the events that befell him and his men, but he swallowed his exhaustion to unwind the disastrous tale, “Sergeant, we were following a tip that this elf: Remmin Fairfollow, was at several places before they were hit by recent tragedy.”

“The Mystic Fang, the clock tower site, and Madam Sasha’s Bordello?” Avren asked, listing the three most recent places a worker’s murder had occurred.

“Yes, though he was spotted at the bordello thrice.” Higgins said, glancing back at the bound prisoner.

“Hey, an elf has needs!” Remmin called out. An armored fist rocked his jaw, shutting him up.

“Continue, Higgins,” said Avren nodding at the Cloak that socked the prisoner.

“We did some quick investigating and found Remmin’s apartment in the Roots. We broke down the door and barged in and found him speaking to – and possibly doing business with – a hooded figure. Female…”

“You Cloaks are in a heap of trouble. The people I work for–” A swift backhand kept Remmin from interrupting again.

“We rushed to arrest Remmin and apprehend the hooded figure. We were four and highly trained. They were two, we didn’t think…” Higgins lost his train of thought as he looked at the mangled Jefferson.”

“She did that number on Jefferson, but you took care of her?” Avren filled in the blanks the best he could.

Higgins was silent.

“Corporal Higgins, is the hood figure dead?” Avren asked again, his voice raised this time.

“She escaped, sergeant…” another man piped up.

Avren looked at Higgins frantically, “Higgins, were you followed?”

Remmin started to laugh. Some of his teeth were missing, blood bubbled through the gaps. It was unnerving for Avren, who realized the full gravity of his situation.

“Shut him up!” Avren commanded. He looked back at Higgins, but gasped as the soldier collapsed in his arms. A dagger was stuck in the back of Higgins' neck. From the rafters, a shadow moved quickly from one wooden cross beam to another.

Remmin continued to laugh as Avren scrambled to shout commands at his men.

“Draw your blades! Circle around the prisoner, we need to keep him safe! Banner, fire your bow and take her down!”

Banner was a crack shot sharpshooter with any type of projectile. Within a minute he had fired off an impressive volley of arrows that darted into the rafters.

The assailant somersaulted off of a beam, narrowly missing the attacks, and landed mere inches away from Avren. She removed her hood revealing her stunningly beautiful shadow elf features. Her deep violet eyes locked with Avren’s dark brown ones. There was a moment of infatuation between the two before the assassin spoke.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome soldier.”

Avren shook off the charm, “Arrest her, I want her in shackles, now!”

The assassin laughed as she skillfully danced around the men, stabbing them in the thighs and backs.

“Shackles? My, you like it rough. You’re a keeper, darling!” she laughed as she cartwheeled right up to Avren, pushing her breasts into Avren’s chest.

Avren gawked at the gorgeous woman, stumbling over his own words, “W-who are you?”

The shadow elf gently brushed her fingers up his chest and nipped at his ear, whispering her name, “Elisa.”

Avren swallowed hard before tripping backwards. Elisa back flipped away from Avren blowing him a kiss, “Until next time, lover!” she said in a sultry tone before vanishing into the city.

Avren shook his head, sweating from the encounter. He rushed to check on his fallen men, inspecting them for injuries before walking over to a surprisingly silent Remmin.

“Damn it,” Avren sighed as he pulled a dagger from the throat of the now dead elf.

“Look around you, Elucard,” whispered Legion, “The forest seems quiet, doesn’t it? But listen closer. Shadows creep along the grass like cracks on an old stone wall. Roots break through the soil with their thick, armored tendrils. However, the roots are not without vulnerability. Termites and other small creatures chew into this tough hide to build their homes. Everything is intertwined. Nature rests on the delicate balance between life and death. It is a volatile scale, prone to wild and unpredictable swings. When the scale tips in the favor of life, death must relieve it of this excess weight. This is our role, Elucard. We are the hand of death.” Legion sat on a thick branch, cutting into his apple with a small throwing knife. The nectar of the fruit dribbled down the bright red flesh and down to the forest floor. The mentor tossed a slice to his pupil, “Do you understand the importance of the task at hand? We are not simple thugs and killers. We are keepers of that balance; a necessity.”

Elucard examined the apple slice. The edge was clean, thus he knew the blade Legion used to cut it was sharp. He popped it into his mouth and savored the fresh taste. It had been six months since he was taken under Legion’s wing. His master made it a point to further his training on the basics, but he made sure to also educate him in academics and philosophy.

A blade is only as sharp as the Rabbit wielding it.

Elucard nodded, “A flower in a bed of weeds does not grow.”

Legion tossed Elucard another slice, “You understand what that means for you, right?”

Elucard shrugged, casually, “Got to pull some weeds.”

Legion grinned, but slid his face into a stern look, “Are you prepared for that task?”

Elucard plucked a leaf from the branch over his head.

“I'll do what it takes.”

His master looked at him coolly, tossing him another slice of the apple.

“What if I asked you to kill one of your peers? Would you hesitate or would you give them the chance to run?”

Elucard raised an eyebrow at the question. This didn’t seem to be a philosophy discussion anymore, what was his master trying to get at?

“Another Rabbit, Master?”

“No, not quite; another recruit.”

Another recruit was still a Rabbit to Elucard. Although it had been nearly half a year since he’d seen any of the other recruits, he still felt like he was a part of that group. However, what if this was a test? What if not all marks were so simply laid out? What if the circumstances were more than black and white? Elucard pondered more. Legion interjected, as he watched his pupil think.

“My student, the Blood Forest, is fast approaching. You will be pitted against your fellow recruits and in a sanctioned trial such as this. You may have to take the life of a peer. You will be judged on your cunning, prowess, stealth, and most of all, your ability to take a life.”

Elucard looked up, trying to imagine such a test, “The Blood Forest?” he asked.

Legion continued, “An eight mile stretch of twisted, gnarled woods with a canopy so dense that it is unfathomably dark. It is the perfect battlefield for a young recruit to prove they are ready to truly become a Rabbit. All recruits will be released within the Blood Forest and will be encouraged to kill or be killed. It will take all that you’ve learned to survive. So, my student, are you prepared to take a life?”

“If they are prepared to die, I will grant them a death.”

“I assure you, they will not be prepared to die.”

Elucard paused, “I shall grant them a death all the same.”

Legion smiled, “Very well, young student. Now, what of the weeds?”

“What of them? I’ll do what it takes.”

Legion gestured to a plume of smoke through a line of trees. Elucard focused his elven eyes. His eyes were more perceptive now than when he was living in Ravenshore. Legion had trained them. Now all of his senses had been heightened.

A blade is only as sharp as the Rabbit wielding it.

The crisp dusk air nipped at his ears. Elucard looked at Legion as he pulled up his hood, “A camp?”

“A weed.”

Legion beckoned Elucard to follow as he jumped to the neighboring branches leading to the camp.

A fire blazed under skewers poking into a few skinned squirrels. A ragged man with a filthy black and gray beard crawled from his makeshift tent. The shelter was as tattered as his clothes and both reeked of a foul odor. It stunk of a life full of failures.

The two assassins perched in an overhanging tree whispering to each other. Their voices were low; too low for a normal man to hear, but high enough for a trained ear to hear. A tongue the Black Rabbits had perfected.

Legion lightly touched Elucard's shoulder, “You are to kill this man. You are to make it quick, silent, and clean. This man has suffered a lifetime of anguish. His death does not need to be cruel.”

Elucard gripped the leather bound handle of his sword. He gritted his teeth as he pulled up his mask to the bridge of his nose.

“May Alanna grant you grace,” Legion's voice wove into Elucard's mind – a mind now heavy with a sense of duty, and a sense of fear.

Not a fear of whether he would be caught or punished for failure, a fear that this would change him forever. Was he ready to go the distance? Was he ready to spill blood? Legion had him practice killing deer, but deer were different from people.

Elucard dropped down silently into the campground. The long shadow of the tree hid his presence. Staying light and using the front padding of his feet to cautiously feel out for twigs that could give away his presence, Elucard stalked behind the vagabond. The rookie assassin's blade quivered as it crept along the back of the homeless man's neck. The cold steel rested coolly sending a tingling shiver down the victim's spine.

“Please,” a voice squeaked, “I've got nothing worth stealing. I don't want to die,” the man wept.

Elucard froze. Deer never begged for their life. This man wanted to live. Elucard's hands now held more than a sword. They held this man's life.

The man slowly turned, his eyes red with tears, snot ran from his nose, the man blubbered as he formed his words, “I ain't never hurt no one. Please…”

Elucard withdrew his sword, his head lowered as his heart sank. He called to Legion, “Master, I can't kill an innocent life, this man is no weed.”

Legion dropped by the side of his student, making no sound, “My student, not every innocent life has a purpose in this world. He serves no one but himself. He has no attachments. He loves no one and no one loves him. Give his life meaning, Elucard. Allow the starving wolves to feed on his carcass. Let the grubs devour his flesh. Let the soil take his bones. Let Alanna take his soul. Restore balance. Answer the call, my student!”

Elucard's grip on his blade strengthened. His eyes shut tightly. He hefted his blade into the air, but Legion halted his motion.

“No, open your eyes. You must bear witness to your deeds.”

Elucard snapped open his eyes, sweat beads dripped off his soaked mask. This was the moment that would forever change his life. The fear of what he would become would now be a reality. Legion's teachings cycled through his head.

A flower in a bed of weeds does not grow.

However, in this case, he was the flower. His fear was the weeds. His blade was the gardener. Killing this man would free him. Free him from fear, free him to flourish. The man's cries broke his thoughts.

“Why are you doing this?”

Flashes of Ravenshore gushed through his mind like the white rapids of a river that flowed into the ocean on which Ravenshore sat. Images of his parents seemed to be within reach, but as he went to approach them, they began to walk away. The faster Elucard ran, he still could not catch up to them.

‘Wait, please, Ma, Pa, stay with me!’

No matter how hard he tried to get to them, his touch was just shy of his parents. Elucard stopped, alone in the void of his mind. Memories swirled around him like a drifting mist. Pictures of his childhood, his love for his friends and family, his friendship with Jetta ebbed about him.

Jetta .

The memories blew away and disintegrated like dead leaves in a harsh wind. All that was left was the tiny girl he once promised to always be there for.

Jetta, please, I’m sorry.

The girl’s head was lowered, her gaze did not meet the yearning of his own. She was silent, but in that silence Elucard struggled with himself, his promise, and his new path.

Beside him, a new figure appeared. Legion. The assassin did not look at him, but simply put his hand on Elucard’s shoulder.

Elucard, this life is no more, it stagnates your mind. It is a waste of thought. Memories like this will only stall your progression.

I can’t forget Jetta. Elucard’s mind echoed.

Then use her memory, let it push you, let it be a reminder of when you were innocent and weak. Use her as a milestone in your past to show yourself how far you’ve gone. Your memories have held you back. Instead, let them give you a boost up to the mountain that you’re trying to climb.

Elucard looked up to where Legion stood, but found he was now alone. No memories, no Jetta, no Legion…nothing. Yet, he didn’t feel alone. Was this how he was supposed to feel? Was this what he needed to fuel his drive? The drive to kill?

Once more, the voice of the vagabond cried out to Elucard, snapping him back to reality.

Elucard's voice was a whisper. As if he still was trying to convince himself more than the man, he said, “You have tipped the scales and I must restore the balance.”

A whipping sound sliced through the air as the man's head rolled onto the ground. The headless body dropped hard. Elucard let go of the sword. It seemed to weigh a hundred tons. His throat became thick and heavy, choking him as he held back the need to cry.

Legion put out the campfire, turning to smile at Elucard, “You did well. It seems you have what it takes to walk this path.”

Elucard was silent.

“Incorruptible. That is what you must become,” the voice of the commander of the Long Whisper Division rang loud and true, “When we don our cloaks, we not only represent ourselves, but our order as well. We must remain steadfast in protecting those that have placed their trust in us – undaunting in our duties, undaunting in living our code.”

A line of graduating White Cloak recruits stood before Marcus Newsun. He was dressed in cream-colored finery; a saber with a gold and silver guard hung by his side, sheathed in an ebonwood case. Behind him towered the Long Whisper headquarters, a guild hall constructed by the White Cloaks merely a decade prior – a testament to the youth of Long Whisper’s government and the recency of the Cloaks as a peacekeeping force in the region. Banners embroidered with the triple crossed swords were draped over the gray stone walls – one sword representing each of the three founders. Brothers bound by blood, bound by duty – a duty that was passed down to the new recruits who were here today.

Wiccer stepped forth, older and wiser than the boy that he once was. His silver tunic with its white trim looked almost regal on him. Slowly, he bent to one knee and bowed his head to his superior. The man standing before him was not only his lifelong instructor and Guild Master, but his father as well. Beneath his white dress gloves, Wiccer’s hands were still bruised and blistered from constant punishment. Even the smallest mistakes in his training and lessons had earned him a swift strike on the knuckles with a wooden measuring stick or a whipping rod – whichever his father had handy. He had no chance to play with children his age, or even the opportunity to enjoy an autumn's day. Honestly the thought had never really crossed his mind until now.

For a fleeting moment, he caught himself wishing for a normal life, though he did not fully understand what that might entail. He wondered what would have become of him had he been born a farmer’s son of more meager means. The idea of such a life seemed so foreign to him. Where was the glory or valor to be found in toiling in the hot sun to feed your family when a fat lordling would take a vast share of it for himself? No, this was not the life for him. Wearing the white cloak was a privilege that civilians could never understand. He banished such foolish longings from his mind. The only life worth living was one that strove for honor, duty, and the right to bear ‘The Cloak of the Incorruptible’.

“Arise, Wiccer,” Marcus continued. He held out a white cloak with a silver trim. The golden trim on his own cloak, a mark of leadership, glinted in the sunlight.

Wiccer's eyes were focused on the ivory cloak before him. He had desired nothing more in all of his life. He lived vicariously through the tales of his parents. He bled for the chance to earn a cloak of his very own. His very being desperately longed for this cloak, and now here it was in his father’s outstretched hands. Marcus floated it around his son's shoulders.

“The boy is now a man,” Marcus nodded as Wiccer raised his hand over his right eyebrow in a strong, but emotional salute.

“Thank you, Father,” whispered Wiccer.

A formal dinner was being held for the new guild members at the guild hall. Although this particular hall was not nearly as massive as the one in Varis, it was still nothing to frown at. Pipers and lute strummers played a slow tune as the guests danced a traditional Varisian dance. They raised their hands together as they moved in a large circle and their bodies swayed back and forth to the melody that filled the air. On the banquet table, a feast of roasted vegetables, pheasant, and large goblets of fine ale were placed before each of the new members.

Wiccer walked in wearing a pressed white dress tunic with matching polished golden buttons that adorned him. His new pearl-white cloak was draped over his right shoulder, its silver trim glistening in the candlelight. The palm of his hand rested on the ceremonial saber that he had received along with his cloak and his boots were glossed to a shine. Many young women smiled and giggled as he made his way through the ball.

Marcus spotted him, calling him away from a night of pleasure and to a night of business. In his hand he had a long object wrapped in wolf hide.

“My son, I’m so proud of you. You’ve come along way and I’m overjoyed that you can now serve by my side,” Marcus said as he greeted his son. He wrapped a hand around the back of Wiccer’s head, pulling it to meet with his own.

“Thank you, Father.”

Handing Wiccer the gift, he patiently waited for his son to unwrap it, revealing a fine arming sword enclosed in a white leather scabbard, “It was your brother's first sword, lightweight, faster than most blades. Avren wanted to give it to you himself when you earned your cloak.”

Wiccer took hold of the blade and carefully pulled it from its scabbard. He inspected its edge and weighed its balance. He could tell that it was a finely crafted blade. Satisfied, he smiled, “When you write to Avren, tell him that I'll use it well.”

Marcus sipped from his chalice, “Tell him yourself.”

Marcus pulled a writ from a leather-bound pouch on his belt. He tossed it to his confused son,

“Read it.”

With a confused look on his face, Wiccer hurriedly unravelled the scroll and scanned the finely written words it held. The words on the small scroll seemed to be too good to be true. In disbelief, he quickly looked it over a second time before looking up into his father’s eyes.

“Father, Avren has sent for me!” He shook his head in shock. His brother had requested aid of him in the newly established Lost Dawns. Not only was he already receiving his first assignment, but it was with his brother in the the capital city of Long Whisper!

“You leave in the morning…Try not to celebrate too hard,” Marcus replied, grinning.

***

Wiccer sat in a carriage looking out the window watching the many trees flash by. Flanking from either side of the carriage was a White Cloak on horseback. Marcus had taken every precaution to get his son to Lost Dawns safely. Reports from pathfinder patrols had told of ambushes from both bandits and Black Rabbits alike. No chances could be taken.

The carriage inched to a stop at a roadside village. Wiccer’s escort had been traveling all morning and all afternoon without a break and now seemed to be as safe a time as any for the horses to rest.

The carriage door opened, “Wiccer, come out and find some lunch. We’ll be resting for an hour or so.” Elleneis was a tall, stern woman whose words were often as hardened as she was. Wiccer fostered a healthy mixture of fear and respect for his new superior and saluted her as she spoke.

“Keep your hand down, Private,” she scolded, “Last thing I need is some greenhorn letting any lurking Rabbits know that I’m in command.”

Wiccer’s hand quickly fell to his side in embarrassment. Elleneis murmured curses and insults as she walked away.

Looking about the village, Wiccer scanned the various shops that dotted the sparse town: a blacksmith, a trading post, a tannery, and a tailor. Wiccer spotted a small butcher shop where several of his fellow White Cloaks had congregated. He took a moment to take in the aroma of the different meats that were cooking over several small fires behind the butcher. Mutton, steak, chicken, and even some other unidentifiable meats sizzled just feet away, and Wiccer felt his stomach rumble beneath his skin.

“What can I get you, sir?” the butcher’s wife asked. Her face was worn and leathery, hinting that she had seen the many seasons at least fifty times over.

“A woman of your age and beauty shouldn’t have to work,” Wiccer said, smiling politely, “Surely you have a son running about?” Wiccer looked around and began to notice that the village was surprisingly quiet. Aside from the occasional hammering of hot iron by the blacksmith, there was something truly missing.

“Our son and his wife left our village when their second child was recruited.” The elderly woman grimaced as she spoke and Wiccer’s smile dropped. He could sense that she had never recovered from the absence they left behind.

“Recruited?” Wiccer scanned the village again, “Second child? Both were recruited? For what?”

The other White Cloaks were silent, but gave solemn looks to the young rookie.

“To become Black Rabbits. Both of them were recruited within three years of each other.” She looked truly and deeply sad, “But at least they’ll be together. My son and his wife just couldn’t suffer the losses though.” She began to trail off as Wiccer looked at the village around him with fresh eyes. He knew what caused the silence now. There were no children in this village. No children playing in the fields, no children chasing the ducks, and no children getting candy at the general store. Just none.

“The Black Rabbits take your children and you all just let this happen!?” Wiccer shouted, slamming his fist on the counter.

“And what do you propose we do, young sir? Fight them? Ha! We barely have enough strength to run this shop, much less fight off an entire clan of assassins, thieves, and murderers.” The truth in her words was hard for Wiccer to accept.

Wiccer stood up, knocking his seat backwards, “We should!” He snapped his head at his strangely quiet peers, “Why aren’t the Cloaks doing something about this?”

“Wiccer, you’re causing a scene, take a seat and be quiet,” said an elven corporal named Rahje.

Wiccer was flabbergasted by Rahje’s response, “How can you be so calm when such an injustice lays right before you?”

Rahje rolled his eyes, “Wiccer, we do what we can. We protect the larger cities, but we are too small of a unit to protect every town and village. What you ask is impossible.”

“We are called ‘incorruptible’, but we sit idly by when people need us the most?”

“The wolf does not try to eat every animal he sees. He leaves the squirrel alone to chase after the deer,” Rahje said.

“The wolf makes sure to get the Rabbit, though,” sneered Wiccer

“And the wolf would get exhausted chasing a rabbit instead of going for the bigger game. Wiccer, we’ve known for some time that we can’t protect everyone. It stinks, but it’s the way the world works. You can’t save everyone. Concentrate on what matters. Do what you are told and hope you can make it through another day. Now sit down and just eat your food.”

“I’m no longer hungry,” Wiccer said as he stormed away.

***

The ancient Elder Tree that pierced the sky above Lost Dawns towered in the distance as Wiccer's carriage passed through the city gates. Though still under a great deal of construction, the cobblestone streets were heavily crowded with elves, humans, kanis, and other races Wiccer couldn't readily recognize. The crowd parted as the carriage passed. Plenty of faces attempted to peer through the carriage's windows. Wiccer kept his composure, despite his urge to gawk at the splendor of the city. Although he had been raised in Varis and had seen many wondrous places, Lost Dawns was still a sight to behold.

Buildings and small tenements dotted the sides of the roads creating a labyrinth of back alleys and side streets. Massive roots twisted over and around them. From the more low hanging branches spanned great bridges that connected the higher part of the city. The nobility of Lost Dawns resided here in their vast, extravagant homes while those of lesser stations found what meager shelter they could in ‘The Roots.’

The carriage stopped in front of a decrepit abbey. Though it was clear that it had seen better days, its beauty still shined from its elegant stained glass windows and through the large moss covered carving of the angel god, Ruens. Wiccer’s deity was the goddess of justice, Jedeo. He bowed and made a silent prayer before pulling his duffel bag off the roof of the carriage, not forgetting to tip the driver a silver piece. He inhaled a deep breath to calm his nerves. This was his first assignment and his first true day as an official White Cloak. More importantly though, he'd not seen his brother in nearly a year.

Before he could enter the church, the doors flung open and Avren ran to Wiccer and embraced him in a bear hug. Avren chuckled, welcoming his brother, “Wiccer, it's been seasons since I've seen my baby brother! How have you been?”

Wiccer gasped for air, trapped in Avren’s well meaning clutches, “I'd be better able to breathe if I wasn't being smothered to death by you!”

Avren blinked and released Wiccer, dropping him to a clutter on the ground.

“Sorry, little brother. Life is rough in this city. It’s good to see a piece of home.” Avren took Wiccer’s duffle bag and motioned his brother to follow him inside, “We are most likely being watched by Rabbits. I didn’t send for you because you needed a vacation.”

Still sitting on the ground, Wiccer looked around bewildered by the thought of Black Rabbits being in blade's reach.

With a more serious tone, Avren lowered his voice, “You're right to have that look on your face. The Rabbits have been sabotaging the construction of this city. Workers have been falling ill or going missing. Either way, they are usually found dead soonafter. I’ve even seen one myself, she was–” Avren stopped to think about his close encounter. His last encounter with a Rabbit left him with conflicting dreams and desires with Elisa. She haunted his thoughts with her seductive body, “She was deadly.”

“It can't be as obvious as their disapproval of the leadership. Assassins don't involve themselves in politics that way,” Wiccer blurted out.

“Right you are, little brother. No, the Rabbits have been hired by someone that doesn't want the city built.”

Now standing, Wiccer rubbed his chin, pondering the history of the eight elven noble tribes, “Leafsong?” he asked inquisitively.

“Leafsong would be the most obvious choice, which is precisely why the Leafsong are the least likely to be behind it.”

Wiccer raised an eyebrow.

Avren chuckled, “I've had a year to deal with this. The Leafsong were the tribe that betrayed their king, but they were absolved of when they banished Ryjin. You remember that from your lessons, don’t you?”

Wiccer rubbed his knuckles, “Father wouldn't let me forget.”

Avren clenched and released his own fists, “Aye, little brother.”

“So, if the Leafsong want to keep the hides on their backs, they need to stay deep in the good graces of the king. So who's pulling the strings then?”

“Before sending for you, I sent for a platoon of cloaks. We've been able to keep incidents to a minimum, but I want to capture a Rabbit and make it talk.”

Elucard raced his way through the twisted woods. Screams echoed all around him. Some were cut short, while others slowly withered into the clutches of the Blood Forest.

You have the skills I taught you over this last year. Stealth and combat you may think are key, but do not forget your most valuable asset: How to think.

Legion's final words were still fresh in his head.

The sun's descent was swiftly approaching and Elucard knew that soon what little light left would fall on the moon's soft glow. An elf had better night vision than a human, but even they couldn’t see in absolute darkness. They still needed at least a sliver of light to see.

Elucard stopped for a moment and got to one knee, feeling the vibrations in the ground and listening for any foreign noise. Someone had been following him for the last twenty minutes or so. Now that the screams were dying down, he could make a move to dispatch his shadow.

Catching a quick glance over his shoulder, Elucard ducked behind the nearest tree and vanished into the darkness. Immediately after falling out of sight, the stranger made an appearance. Garbed in traditional black training armor, the elf had a twin scar on his left cheek, a crooked nose, and dirty chestnut hair. Elucard recognized him from when he was still training under his first teachers. This elf was named Leos.

Leos cursed as he scanned trying to find him, but Elucard continued to observe from a safe distance. Leos palmed a dirk from a sheath attached to his thigh, still cursing under his breath.

“Master, will I be able to make it through the forest without taking a life?” Elucard asked, accepting a cup of black tea. He quickly blew to cool the liquid before drinking it, anxiously awaiting an answer. An answer he already knew the question to. Months had passed since he killed the man in the woods and yet the nightmare he was roused from felt like it had happened only the day before.

“Elucard are you afraid to take a life?” Legion answered with another question. As if this question was to open up to the truth behind Elucard’s hesitance.

Elucard silently crept his way behind him and freed his sword, careful to avoid the blade gleaming in the light. With a swift action, he dashed in and sliced cleanly at his target's leg. His opponent collapsed to one knee, but before he could let out a whimper or roar, Elucard quickly covered this mouth with his hand, “Hush now, I'm not going to kill you, but I can't have you getting me killed with your yelping.”

More gagged noises vibrated into Elucard’s glove.

“My master would have me kill you. Would you prefer to have it his way?” Elucard asked snidely. Leos bit his lip beneath Elucard’s gloved hand. He knew better than to bother with a response, “There, now hold still, I'm going to knock you out.”

A quick bunt to the head with his sword's pommel left Leos out cold. Elucard made sure to search his body, but found only a few shuriken and the dirk he was wielding. He quickly stuffed the shuriken into a pouch on his belt. However, he paused as he went to pick up the dirk. A small cloud of leaves came drifting down into his sight.

“I’m not afraid to take a life, it’s just that…” Elucard struggled with the question as if he were fighting Legion in a duel.

“It’s just that you still question if taking someone’s life is the right thing to do?” Legion finished for his student.

“Is it really our task to judge whose life gets taken? I never asked for such a responsibility!” Elucard shouted in an outburst deeply rooted in his conflicted emotions.

A blurred image fell from the canopy and a swift drop kick sent Elucard flying forward onto the rough bark of the branch he’d been standing on. Flipping through the air, Elucard attempted to stabilize himself as he thudded into a neighboring tree. The figure, already dashing after him, drew out his sword to strike, but Elucard deflected the blade into the wood next to him. Bark sprayed as the metal blade dug into the soft sapwood beneath it. Elucard answered back with a heavy fist to the stranger’s face. The blow jogged loose a silver fox mask, revealing the face of a young teen of Elucard's age.

His opponent jumped back, lifting several throwing stars from his back pouch, and tossing them at deadly speeds. They sunk deep, splintering the tree's bark, as Elucard nimbly ducked. Taking his own blade, Elucard stepped forth and slashed in an arcing motion, but barely caught his target's stomach, releasing a drizzle of blood in the air.

Elucard’s foe slid backward along the thick, giant branch. He caught his breath, briefly checking on the close call of a wound. Elucard, peered through the darkness, taking advantage of shafts of moonlight. He gasped when he recognized the face he had been fighting.

“Izian? Izian of Ravenshore, is that you?” Elucard called out.

The boy in question looked up, and matched Elucard's gaze. Slowly it dawned on him that he had been fighting an old friend.

“Elucard? Where have you been? We all haven't seen you in forever! We didn't know if you were killed or what!” Izian exclaimed with a hint of relief in his voice.

“We?”

“Geven and Myler! They're both with me. We’re teaming up to get out of this Gods forsaken forest! You should come with us. You fight pretty good.”

Elucard sheathed his blade, finally happy to see a friendly face. He stepped over Leos’ limp body and sprung off into the forest with his old friend.

***

Myler and Geven waited, alert and afraid, within a hollowed out tree. Izian told them to wait there while he scouted ahead. That was thirty minutes ago.

“He's dead… We should get moving” Geven said, breaking the long silence between the two. He combed his thick black hair with his fingers. He was nervous. Izian had always been the strongest of the three boys and had acted as their stalwart leader.

“Let's wait a bit longer, maybe he ran into some trouble?” Myler was antsy as well. He had not been taking his training too well, showing defiance whenever he could. However, he stuck with it for the sake of surviving with his childhood companions.

“If that's the case, we should go after h–” movement through the trees in front of them cut his words short. Geven slid out a dagger and crept forward, crouching to keep his figure harder to decipher in the cool, dark woods.

Dropping silently to the ground like an owl snatching up its prey, were two figures. Myler immediately recognized one of them as Izian.

Myler and Geven kept their distance before breaking out into a shaky laughter that resounded with relief. Izian stepped forward, waving to them to come meet his guest, “Guys, guess who I found!”

Elucard lowered his mask around his collar and lifted off his hood, revealing his dirty blond hair. He gave a weak smile, unsure whether his old friends would remember him after so much time apart. His question was answered when Myler let out a big smile and slapped his arm around Elucard's neck and shoulders.

“Elucard Freewind, where have you been? It's so great to see you… alive for that matter!”

Geven shook his long lost friend's hand vigorously, “You're a sight for sore eyes. With us four watching each other's backs, we'll be out of here in no time!”

Elucard nodded, “I'm game. The more people I don't have to fight, the better. No skin off my hide. Let's quit standing around with targets on our backs and move out.”

The three other elves gave a short fist pump in excitement and followed Elucard further into the forest.

***

“It’s true, you may have never asked for it…but the responsibility chose you Elucard,” Legion said softly.

“I don’t want it, Master. I don’t want to take a life!”

“A true Rabbit does not want to take a life…but will,” Legion said, pouring himself and Elucard another cup of tea.

Elucard knocked away the cup, “Then I am no true Rabbit!”

“That remains to be seen.”

Elucard and his three companions felt as though they’d been sprinting through the forest canopy for an eternity. It was as if the woods were endless in their span and ruthless by their very nature. Massive branches covered in rough, splintery bark surrounded the boys and weaved through the forest much like giant threads of a rough, itchy cloth. The three boys had encountered no one and had heard nothing in the dense forest. The only sounds that they heard were the sounds of their heaving breaths that were muffled by their masks and the grinding thud their feet made as they dashed along the enormous branches.

Elucard grew increasingly suspicious of the quiet. He raised his hand to signal those behind him to halt. He slowly lowered his hand and motioned them to crouch and stealth. Pointing quickly to several seemingly random directions, he himself jumped a short distance to a nearby branch.

With Myler, Geven, and Izian keeping watch over several of Elucard's blind spots, he narrowed and focused his senses to better observe the area. He held his breath and calmed his heart beat to sharpen his hearing… nothing. He made use of what little moonlight glittered through the canopy to better see his surroundings… nothing. But wait, he did see something. Something faint, that glinted softly in the distance – a sliver of a silver metal line. Elucard noted that it cut across the gap of trees up ahead. Even if his group members had been paying close attention while hopping from branch to branch, they would have still been clotheslined by the thin wire.

Elucard leaped to where one end of the line was tied to a tree. Undoing the knot, he inspected the wire more closely, identifying it as a garrote or choking wire. This was a trap, but where was the trapper and who was he hoping to catch? A stifled gag from behind him answered his question.

Elucard quickly jumped back to where he had left his friends, his blade drawn. Searching frantically, he found no signs of the trio, but from the shadows stepped three new faces.They wore dark blue garbs with black trims. Muffled laughter erupted from all of them as they drew a variety of weapons.

“Keth says we can't kill you just yet, but that don't mean we can't have a bit of fun,” said one of them. He was a bit more husky than the other two.

Izian, Geven and Myler were the last remnants of his past. Even if the Black Rabbits attempted to beat the last inch of Ravenshore out of him, he wanted his friends to still be by his side. Rabbit or not, he needed them. Now the Blood Forest was planning to take them away. He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t let this happen.

Elucard clenched his teeth under his mask. The obvious move would be to question these strangers. They clearly set the trap. 'Who was Keth? Where were Geven, Myler, and Izian?' That would be the obvious course of action, but not the logical one. No, he needed to dispatch them quickly and efficiently and leave only one conscious for questioning. Clearly he would need to save his energy for this “Keth.”

“Ain't you going to ask, where are you friends at?” The husky one said snarkily.

Elucard mapped out the fight in his head. His eyes were closed as his eyeballs flinched left and right, projecting imaginary images. He would move to the middle one first, running low and hacking off a leg with a clean slice; a roundhouse kick to the now one-legged minion's chest would knock him off of the tree.

Next He would side step a vertical slash from his left and retaliate with a thrust to the kid's left shoulder. A twist of the sword's grip would ensure that his foe would be crippled in pain.

He would finally turn his attention on the one he wanted to question. He didn't know the goon’s loyalty level to Keth, so he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t run. A flying jump kick to the face or the back of the head would bring him down to an appropriate position for questioning.

Elucard was silent for only a moment. Keth's allies cocked their heads waiting for an answer. The husky one took a step forward and spoke an annoyed, “Well?”

Elucard snapped open his eyes and in a matter of a few short moments, Elucard's enemies were incapacitated, save for a sniveling husky goon with a quickly forming black eye from a well placed flying kick.

Elucard pressed his sword under the boy’s plump, thick neck and spat, “No, I'm not going to ask where they are, because you're going to tell me.”

The blade pressed further into the neck fat, and Elucard's answer was squealed out.

“Down by the tree shaped like a spider. Keth is there too!”

Elucard threw a fierce jab to the boy’s face, “How many more are with Keth?”

“Four more, I swear! Please don't kill me!”

Elucard shook his blade in anger. Who was Keth? Why did he specifically want him dead? These were questions for Keth, clearly. He needed to rid his mind of the questions and distractions that plagued him. He needed to rescue his friends, if they were even still alive.

“Please! Let me live! I told you everything!” the fat boy squealed again.

Elucard turned his attention back on his captive. Should he kill him? No, he needed to get through this forest without killing, he needed to keep a small piece of past self alive before the Black Rabbits killed what remained of his old life, “Tell me your name, if you want to live!”

“Eris!”

“You're lucky, Eris, You'll live another night in this forest. I need you to bring me to this 'Spider Tree'.”

“The aqueducts.” Avren said as he threw a dagger at a detailed map of Lost Dawns. The dagger stuck in the wooden table with a loud 'thunk.’ The blade's tip landed on an empty space on the city's map. Pencil scribblings around the word 'aqueduct' with arrows signified where the structure’s various segments were to be built and when. Currently, they were still under construction.

Avren grabbed the dagger's handle and ripped it from the wedged resting spot. He took a large swig of a stein full of ale as he gestured thoughtfully at his brother with the weapon, “It hasn't been struck with any misfortune yet and will be finished within a day. If the Rabbits are going to strike, it will be there.”

“Elisa what are you thinking?” Avren had been in the city for almost a year now, and since their last encounter had not seen the elusive assassin. He had, however, heard accounts of an exotic elf in a purple cape moving about in the Roots. Avren knew it was her and he wanted to meet her once more, even if it were to kill her.

Wiccer rubbed his chin as he looked over the slit left in the map by the blade. They spent the entire day and most of the night going over all the places and people who were struck by the Rabbits. The city was nearly complete despite the many delays, thanks in part to Avren's best efforts. If something were to happen to the aqueducts it would push back the city's progression by at least another month. Clearly someone didn't want the city to flourish and clearly they wanted the king to suffer the fall of his beloved city – his legacy.

Wiccer nodded slowly, still locked in thought, “I think they were being smothered by our presence. It’s as if they can't make their message clear. They are being choked. Soon they’ll need to commit a desperate act to keep their employer happy…”

Avren's eyes widened once he got a glimpse of Wiccer's train of thought, “They are not going to poison some worker. They are not going to stop the construction of the 'ducts. They want them finished… on purpose?”

“The Rabbits want to poison the water supply!” Wiccer slammed his fist on the table, finishing the thought.

Avren slumped in his chair and tipped over his stein in shock, which sloshed his drink on the floor. A dumbfounded look scribbled over his face and his eyes fixated on the ceiling. If the Black Rabbits did plan on poisoning the city, then a security assignment just evolved into a mission to save the Lost Dawns.

“Avren, we don't have much time! The aqueducts will be finished within the next three days! We need to find their operatives now.”

Avren called for the White Cloaks guarding the door, “Gather the men, we have a new mission. I'll brief you in ten.”

Once they were alone, Avren turned to his brother with fear in his eyes that Wiccer had never seen before, “Wiccer, I need you to find out what these assassins are going to use to poison the water supply. That way we can make an antidote for it if we fail.”

“Where do I start? Father never trained me in poisons” sputtered Wiccer.

Avren placed a reassuring hand on his little brother's shoulder, “Check the apothecary in the Roots. They wouldn't go to an alchemist or herbalist in just any part of the city to acquire this kind of poison.”

Avren grabbed the back of Wiccer's neck and pulled him in for a headlock, “I love you, little brother, and I sent for you for a reason. I trust and believe in you more than any Cloak here. I know you can do this!”

Wiccer grinned, his confidence resonated back in his voice, “I won't let you down, Avren!”

“One last thing… don't bring your cloak.”

***

Slowly over the course of Lost Dawns' construction, the Roots became the epicenter for crime and poverty. Avoided by the authorities and the high class, only the desperate and the lowly stepped foot onto these streets.

Not bringing his cloak was a careful warning more than a suggestion. Wiccer pulled up the hood of a ratty traveler's cloak that hid his fine pressed uniform. His eyes darted from side to side, eying the vagabonds that dotted the alleyways and stoops. There were fewer lamp posts here than in other parts of the city. Thus, the clouded night made for a more precarious scene.

Wiccer stopped in front of a shady storefront. Long curtains prevented curious eyes from peering into a slightly cracked window pane that was covered in grime and dust. The door hung slightly off its hinges and a bum lie drunk on the steps. The sign read: ‘Angelo’s Her-’

A wide crack splintered the sign, making the final wording unreadable. Wiccer stepped over the bum, careful not to disturb his stupor as he entered the shop.

Inside, a dim lantern emitted a glow tinted by a soft green flame. Shelves covered the walls with jars of various spices and herbs. By the counter an elderly kanis watched with one good eye, as the other was a faded white, scarred and crusty. Clearly half blind. The wolflike beastman had his long silver fur tied in tight braids, decorated with small bones and teeth, possibly his own.

“Are you Angelo?” Wiccer asked casually, making sure his cloak covered his regal tunic. His hand rested on his sword’s pommel.

“Who’s Angelo? There is only Loomis here.” spoke the wolf, growling with a hacking cough.

“Never mind,” Wiccer sneered, a poor attempt at hiding the annoyed tinge in his voice. He walked to the counter, sliding a silver trit into the shopkeeper’s claws, “I seek knowledge on a vermin problem in the city.”

The wolf let loose a sparse but toothy grin, “The city is full of rats, but perhaps that’s not the type of vermin you speak of…”

“Lost Dawns is overrun with rabbits.”

The shopkeeper cackled, “Just one, friend, just one.”

Wiccer’s face turned inquisitive, “What do you know, old one?”

“I know a single silver piece isn’t enough for the information you seek.” His claw was palm up, motioning for more money.

Wiccer jingled a pouch in front of the wolf’s muzzle, “Tell me what you know, and then you will be paid.”

The wolf licked his chops before indulging the information, “She comes in alone, always to purchase Wickedleaf. She pays well to make sure I ask her no questions. However, Loomis is never in the dark. She is alone in this city, and when she purchases her Wickedleaf, trouble always falls over the city within the next day.”

Wiccer tossed the pouch onto the counter, “Where can I find her?”

“You seek Patches the Slim. He acts as the eyes and ears of the Roots.”

***

The Roots only grew more dangerous as time passed. Soon even the drunks and homeless didn’t call the corners and stoops home. Wiccer needed to find this contact, and fast. The time he spent with Loomis yielded excellent results, but he was sure that the Rabbit would learn of his prying. Perhaps she already knew.

As Wiccer passed by another alley, he glimpsed a figure enter into his blind spot. Swiftly grabbing for his sword, but not drawing it, he spun around and reached into the shadows bringing a shady man into his vision.

The man wore a tattered fedora on his head. Several scars and a stubble graced his jaw line. A long brown buttoned coat draped his body. He smirked holding up his hands innocently, “Relax, Patches the Slim is a friend to all. I can see you're looking for something. What's your poison?”

Wiccer furrowed his brow and half drew his sword that was concealed by the cape of his brown cloak, “Poison?”

The man chuckled, “Listen, I can tell by your grip you're a construction worker. And since I've never seen you in the Roots before, you've probably been brought in from Varis. You're looking for something that the rest of the city can't supply you with. You looking for some dream weed or black sap? You looking to forget your worries? Relax for a bit? The Roots can be a place of pleasure. We even have the finest women. They’re experienced and know how to keep secrets.”

Wiccer loosened his grip on the sword, lowered his voice to a whisper, and settled into the role of a disgruntled construction worker from Varis, “Listen mate, my boss is driving me up the wall. I want to discreetly send him a message. You get my drift?”

The merchant flashed a grin, “Aye, I get your drift. Follow ‘ole Patches.”

***

Wiccer kept his hand close to the sword hanging from his belt. His eyesight strained in the dark, filthy tunnels within the sewers below the Roots. The stench of waste was like a lingering fog. Rats scurried past their feet as the untrustworthy man kept up cheerful idle chat. Wiccer played along but kept up his vigilance.

“How much further Mr. Slim?”

The merchant looked back, keeping his dimly lit oil lamp at the forefront, “Mr. Slim was my father’s name. Call me Patches the Slim.”

Wiccer slid a weird grin, “How much further…Patches the Slim?”

“Just around this bend. When we get to her, allow me to do the talkin.’ She’s not too keen on the customer talking directly to her, but you insisted on doing business face to face. I don’t blame ya. The business she deals in is nasty work, work that would make even Dhalamar blush.”

Patches stopped around the corner and walked across a canal that divided the sewer. He rapped his knuckles on a shoddy wooden door. He did it gently for the door seemed to be suffering from cracks, mildew, and rot.

Wiccer waited carefully while wishful thinking flooded his mind. But the nagging feeling that he might be in over his head began to creep in as well. Was this the lair of the Black Rabbit? How long could he keep up this ruse?

The merchant knocked lightly again.

An annoyed voice came from the other side of the door. A woman’s voice, “Patches, is that you? You just gave me your report an hour ago.”

“Well–”

“Do you plan on talking through a door, come in already!”

Patches took off his ragged fedora and ushered Wiccer inside. Wiccer followed, his hand clung even more tightly on his sheathed sword.

The room was small and lit by many candles. Old, poorly made furniture decorated the area while scrolls and maps of the city were scattered about. Behind a desk sat an exotic looking elf with dark purple hair. Her skin was a light gray and her eyes were a hypnotic deep violet. Wiccer recognized her as a Shadow Elf, but he had never seen one in person. She was dressed in the traditional black and purple garb of the Black Rabbits. Surely, she was who he was searching for.

The Rabbit sneered at the sight of Wiccer, “Slim, who is this child?”

Scoffing, Wiccer was taken aback by the ‘child’ comment, “I’m fifteen, hardly a child!”

The woman chuckled and bowed sarcastically, “Forgive me, sir, what can I do for you?”

Patches stepped forward to explain, “He’s a construction worker fed up with his boss. He wants to teach him a lesson, if you get my drift, Elisa.”

Elisa slowly walked forward. A slender finger brushed under Wiccer’s chin seductively. She lightly grazed over his chest with her other hand as she moved lightly around him, “Such dark features for a Long Whisper human. You aren’t from here, I would gather somewhere in Alva.”

Wiccer blushed from the attraction he had to such a beautiful woman, but attempted to keep his mind focused, “My parents are from Alva. I was born in Varis.”

Elisa continued to slowly inspect Wiccer, lifting up his traveler’s cloak, and sliding her fingers up his arms, “You have the build of a construction worker. You’ve seen much hard work for a human so young…but…” She stopped with her intense eyes of the night staring at Wiccer’s, “You dress and are armed like a White Cloak. True, you might have left your cloak in Varis, but your tunic and sword shine with arrogant authority. Too bad, you could have grown into a very handsome man.”

Drawing with life or death reflexes, Wiccer pulled his blade under Elisa’s neck, “You’re under arrest by the authority of King Jaelyn! Surrender, Rabbit!”

Elisa gracefully jumped backwards pulling several shurikens from her belt and whipping them through the air. Wiccer deflected several, while the rest sparked off the wall behind him. Patches gasped and crashed through the old door, making a sloppy escape.

Wiccer shuffled, keeping one hand to steady his blade, the other to reach into his pouch for a pair of small shackles. Elisa slid a pair of sais down her sleeves and into her hands, “You look familiar, Cloak. Do you have a brother?”

Wiccer blinked at the question, “You know Avren?”

Elisa circled around the young soldier, her thoughts heavy with images of Avren’s muscles glistening in oils, laying in a silk covered bed: “Avren.” Ever since her encounter with Wiccer’s brother, he had been a guilty pleasure in her mind; a constant image that gave her company at night.

“Just curious,” Elisa’s mouth made a thin smile. Spinning her sais skillfully with several flicks of her wrist, she thrusted in a succession of attacks. Wiccer struggled to parry the swift attacks, still holding the shackles in his left hand. With a side swiping technique, Elisa locked her sai’s guard with Wiccer’s blade, pinning them both into a neighboring table. With a savage backhand, the other sai collided across Wiccer’s jaw.

Wiccer released his sword and fell back against a wall. Rubbing a bruised cheek, he was caught off guard by a heavy kick to his ribs that crashed him further into the wall. Wiccer crumpled to the ground. To his dismay, his own sword’s tip pressed against his neck.

Elisa grinned wickedly, “A fair attempt.”

Wiccer sneered, grimacing from a cracked rib. He let loose a strong low kick, attempting to sweep her off of her feet, “I’m not done yet, Rabbit!”

Elisa somersaulted backwards, avoiding falling to the ground. However, she was caught off guard when Wiccer came barreling at her wielding a chair. Wiccer crashed the wooden chair over her head, splintering it into pieces. Blood squirted from Elisa’s mouth as she hit the floor hard.

Dazed, she struggled to move, but a sharp kick to her head ended any chance for her to continue the fight. Wiccer winced as he bent over to pick up and sheath his sword. Gingerly, he examined a large purple and blue welt growing on his side.

“A fair attempt, Rabbit.”

***

“Are you insane, Wiccer?” Avren was furious as he met his brother outside the cell of the unconscious Elisa, “I gave you the mission to investigate the poison!”

Wiccer raised his head and pointed his hand at his captor, “I did one better! I captured the Black Rabbit terrorizing the city. You should be hailing me a hero, yet here you are scolding me!”

“Hailing you as a hero? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“But I didn’t!” Wiccer argued.

Avren huffed a chest full of angry breath. He hung his head in a frustrated gesture, holding his hips, “Wiccer. What you did was foolhardy, and although it paid off this time, you can’t always act alone. You need to use your head. You were very lucky this time, but there may very well be a next time that doesn’t end as well for you. I wasn’t there to watch your back. No one was there to watch your back. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

Wiccer gently rubbed his now taped up ribs, “I’m sorry Avren. I’ll think before I act next time.”

Avren put his heavy hand on his little brother’s head, “It will save your life.” Avren looked towards his prisoner as she slowly began to wake up, “Wiccer, go back to the infirmary and rest up. I’ll brief you on what I’ve learned from her later.”

Wiccer nodded, wincing from his still aching ribs.

Elisa murmured as she woke to a splitting headache. She opened her eyes and found herself behind bars. She scowled, “Well, Avren, is it? Are you here to give me breakfast in bed?”

Avren hid a smile, “Breakfast? You have killed several of my men and injured even more.”

Elisa moved slowly to the bars, flipping her hair away from an eye, gleaming dreamily into Avren’s, “Only business, Avren. You should know that.”

Avren could not help but move his eyes up and down Elisa’s perfect body. She was the most ravishingly beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on, and her flirting with him wasn’t helping him keep his concentration, “Elisa, your crimes in this city have rung high. You will hang from the gallows for what you’ve done… unless of course, you have some redeeming qualities about you.”

The shadow elf reached to brush Avren’s cheek gently, and then ran her finger down to his lips, “I have many ‘redeeming’ qualities about me. Why don’t you come into this cell, so I can show you?”

Avren, snatched her wrist and pulled her up to the bars with a rough ‘clang.’

What was he doing? No one had ever toyed with his emotions like this. He wanted her, but the militaristic discipline in him kept him from taking her on her back and thrusting himself deep within her. This was her game, she played him like a puppet, but he wanted to play this game.

Avren swallowed hard and came in close to her luscious lips, “I’m serious, Elisa. King Jaelyn wants you dead.”

Elisa, began to unbutton his tunic to reveal his bare muscled chest, “What do you want, Avren?”

Avren grabbed her by the shirt and dragged down her collar, kissing her neck. Elisa moaned in pleasure. Avren stopped, “I can’t do this.”

Elisa pouted her face, “You Cloaks are such sticks in the mud.”

“Talk, and I may be able to save your life.”

Elisa grinned devilishly, “You expect me to betray my clan for sex?”

Avren released her, “Your clan would let you swing by your neck. I can give you safety, a place to stay other than this prison or deep in the mire of the sewers. Provide us with information and work with us. You can have a better life.”

“What of the sex?” Elisa said coyly rubbing the spot on her neck that Avren kissed.

Avren, still sweating, adjusted his trousers, “We can arrange something. What do you say? Work with me?”

Elisa’s mind was fluttering with the thought of taking the deal. However, she would be breaking the highest law of the Black Rabbits: “Stay loyal to the clan.” But Elisa’s loyalty was to her Shadow Elf queen, not to the clan. The Black Rabbits were merely a means to an end. The skills she gained were to better serve Queen Ravengale. She wouldn't be able to serve her if she was sentenced to death. The Rabbits would have her marked for death for such brazen treason, but the secrets she’d learned could be such an asset to her queen and she’d never get to reveal them if the Cloaks hung her first. She needed to take the deal. It was her best option; her only option.

“I’ll take your deal, Avren.”

Avren opened her cell, “Excellent. Come, we have some work to do and people to see.”

Elisa yanked his cloak, tugging him inside the prison room, “That can wait. We have some unfinished work of our own to attend to.”

“His name is Elucard – a lowly brat from some shoddy no-name fishing town. He is the first student that my fool of a blade kin, Legion, has taken under his wing. I've been eying them closely. You are stronger, Keth. Know this and wield it well. Elucard doesn't have the stomach to be a Rabbit. I want him to suffer.”

Malady spoke to a young elf of about fourteen years old. He had fair skin, short brown hair, and a strong back that years working as a farm boy had shaped far before his grueling Black Rabbit training. He was hand-picked by Malady along with several other lads, but it was Keth that rose to be Malady’s favorite pupil.

Keth raised an eyebrow to his master. He'd been kneeling and intensely listening. He enjoyed the power that his blade had given him over others, another attribute that his master favored.

“Elucard, master?” Keth asked, eager to enter the Blood Forest and make his master proud.

“Both, dear Keth.”

“But Master Malady, Legion won't be in the Blood Forest!”

Malady narrowed his one good eye. He had lost the other to Legion when they were younger. He sneered at his student's vain attempt to grasp his plan, “Fool, Legion will suffer when he finds his student's mutilated body has been swallowed by the forest. He may never take another student again.” Malady smirked imagining the pain on his rival's face, “His legacy will die with Elucard.”

Keth nodded, his eyes lit up with the knowledge of his actions bringing such pleasure to Malady.

“Take those that you would call 'friends' with you. Share the burden with those idiots, and do not get yourself killed. Remember, allies are like mules. They only live to serve you.”

“Yes, Master.”

***

The spider-shaped tree was large and had countless contorted branches that wildly sprawled in several directions. Protruding from the bark were spiky thorns. Rippled leaves carved out the tree's features like serrated razors.

Kneeling in the heavy shadows of the tree were the three elves: Izian, Geven and Myler. Their wrists were tightly bound behind their backs. Welts and bruises marred their faces and bodies. A thick mixture of spit and blood dribbled down their mouths. Only Izian's eyes were fixated on Keth. Spitting out broken pieces of teeth, he chuckled, “If I was free, I'd teach you some manners.”

Keth was growing irritated as he waited for the main event. He slowly knelt down to Izian's level. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he slapped the flat of it on the Izian’s face, “You were trained by Baines and Ridge?”

Izian nodded.

“Very well, it seems Elucard doesn't care for his friends, perhaps you will save them instead.” Keth stood calling for his grunts to untie Izian, “Toss him a blade.”

Izian checked the sword's balance and crouched down in an aggressive stance. He wondered if Elucard really abandoned them again… abandoned him again – but he quickly shook away his doubts to concentrate on the task at hand. He was the most skilled of the trio and a rising student as well. Without him, Myler and Geven were lost.

Keth cast a glimmering smile, “Say when.”

Izian clenched his teeth with rage and let out a furious growl. He rushed at Keth, plunging his sword in the air, but Keth leaped to the side, retaliating with a smart diagonal slice up and across Izian’s side. With a graceful jump, Keth spun around with a butterfly kick that crushed into Izian’s jaw.

Izian was flung backwards, flipping to the ground. Grasping in pain at the soil, he recovered quickly, and responded with a flurry of spin kicks of his own, each one nimbly dodged. Izian attacked again more aggressively. He saw an opening in Keth’s defensive dance and swept at his feet. Keth effortlessly dodged the attack but was met with a surprise flash kick that sent his head reeling backwards.

Keth sailed into the air and crashed hard onto the ground. Stunned, Keth's minions ran to his aid, but the dazed elf violently shook them away, “Enough, you idiots!” he roared as he adjusted his jaw. He turned his attention to Izian, “Okay, enough sparring. You die first.”

Taking his sword, Izian pointed it at Keth. He let out a weak grin. His body was still shaky from the excess adrenaline coursing through his body.

“Say when,” he chided.

Keth, no longer in good humor, dived at Izian as he made a series of slashes, some of which clashed with Izian's blade, but some of which hit their mark. Blood sprayed from the several gaping wounds made by Keth's blade. Izian stumbled backwards from the onslaught and fell on his back from a heavy kick to his chest.

Keth stomped a solid heel onto Izian’s chest and leaned in with all of his weight,”Landing one lucky kick, does not make you a victor.”

Izian squirmed under the hold, “Better to die with a blade in my hands, than on my knees with one against my neck!”

“For you, you'll have neither. You'll just die!” Keth raised the blade, its tip facing Izian's chest. Izian braced himself for the sting of death. At least he had fought and not died like a rabid dog. No, he would die like a true rabbit. Keth moved to thrust his blade down but withdrew his hand in agony as he found himself disarmed by a throwing dagger that struck his blade at the hilt.

A command struck through the darkness, “Enough!”

Both Izian and Keth watched from the shadows of the trees as Elucard emerged from the darkness, a blade drawn in each hand.

Lifting Izian up, Keth tossed him into the nervous hands of his minions, “Be ready to slay them all on my command.”

Keth turned to Elucard and retrieved his blade from the ground, “You killed my allies?”

“None will be killed by my hands,” he shouted over Keth, to his friends' captors, “None of you need to die here. Let my friends go.”

Keth snickered, “They know you are no threat.”

Elucard and Keth began to circle, their eyes locked on one another. Elucard shook his head as he tried to figure out why Keth had it in for him, but no answers came to mind, “So you must be Keth. I don't even know you, why this grudge?”

“This bad blood is beyond you and me, there's a larger plan at work. However, everything hinges on your death. I'd say this wasn't personal, but really, it is.”

Elucard gestured his head toward his three friends, “Let them go, they aren't part of this.”

“Sorry, Elucard, every war has its collateral damage,” Keth said while shrugging mockingly.

Elucard gripped the handles of his swords. The idea of escaping the forest without killing seemed more and more like a daydream. The reality was that Keth needed to be dealt with. This reality needed him to evolve or he would be left behind and so would the people he cared for.

“Very well, master, I won't hold back any longer…” murmured Elucard. His eyes were now cold, his breathing was calm. He seemed to be in a new found moment of peace.

Keth’s face twisted in confusion, “What did you say, rat?”

Elucard dashed forward, folding his blades in a cross and unleashing them in a wave of wind that crashed towards his opponent. Keth’s eyes widened in fear. Flipping backwards, he narrowly dodged the attack, but found himself fighting off a barrage of strikes from Elucard's twin blades. Sparks showered the air as Keth worked overtime to block each swift attack.

In the midst of his own attacks, Elucard lunged forward landing a vicious kick to Keth’s chest. Keth slid backwards and barely had a moment’s respite before Elucard danced amidst a storm of whirling blades, kicking up a cloud of thick dust.

Keth vaulted over Elucard’s advance, but a sharp pain let him know he hadn’t made it away unscathed. He tumbled onto the ground, seeking even a moment to recover. He gingerly hobbled on his injured leg, careful not to put too much weight on the weakened limb. Keth seethed with rage, “So, you do possess some skill, but not enough to keep you and your friends alive.”

Elucard’s mind was clear and his resolution unmoving. He took a deep breath before running forward for another set of attacks.

Using a sly reverse sidestep, Keth twisted around to be behind Elucard, and shanked him with a surprise dagger attack. He nimbly sprung backwards and a smile began to stretch across his face.

Elucard fell to a knee. He exhaled, grimacing in pain.

“I won't hold back… I won't hold back any longer.”

Elucard sought solace in his mind once more and pushed the pain to the back of his thoughts. He buried it deep in the darkness within him and gripped his swords tighter.

Keth stabbed his sword into the ground and reached for a second dagger, “My Master wishes you to die slowly. I think I'll punch you full of holes until your body runs dry.”

“I won't hold back…I won't hold back any longer.” Elucard's mantra continued as he stood once more and rushed for a breakneck attack, but Keth was like a mongoose, juking to the right and following suit with several more stabs to Elucard's legs, arms, and shoulders. The final attack disarmed Elucard.

He fell to his knees. How had Keth managed to bear weight on that leg? He was so sure that he’d disabled him. It would seem that Keth had a mantra of his own. Keth pulled Elucard’s head back with a fiery grip and slipped his dagger under his neck. Keth called out to his allies, “Kill them. Start with the one who attacked me first.” Keth leaned in to whisper into Elucard's ear, “You see, you’re a gangrenous wound on an otherwise healthy body. The body can’t survive with such a festering wound, now can it? No, of course not; for the body to survive, the limb must be sacrificed. I intend to be the blade that frees the body from the clutches of disease. Treasure these final moments and know that you died so that the Rabbits could thrive.”

Elucard's body throbbed with pain from his many gushing wounds. His fingers were numb, and his vision began to fog over. Perhaps it was a gift that Keth's taunting words began to fade. His friends' cries bobbed above his clouded mind. His mantra seemed to fade into the same darkness he’d buried his pain. However a familiar voice cut through everything that cluttered his head.

No pain, no numbness, no distraction, just the voice. The voice of his master, Legion.

“This is you not holding back?”

Elucard was silent with shame.

“Answer me, Rabbit! Is this your all?”

Through the calamity of the events outside, Elucard gave a low, raspy answer, as if he was answering the voice in his mind, “Yes, master. I have failed you.”

Legion's voice became stern, “I don't think it is. I think you're still holding back. I think you're afraid to raise yourself to a higher standard.”

“I'm afraid of what I will become,” he faintly replied.

Keth grew silent. He called out for his allies to withdraw their blades. He looked down at Elucard who seemed to be mumbling to himself, “Speak up, Elucard! We're all waiting for your final words.”

Legion's voice grew calmer, “You don't have to be afraid. You were chosen by Alanna to serve on the Mortal Plane. Embrace your duty to her, Embrace your duty to yourself. Fight. Kill. Live.”

All was silent.

Legion continued, “ Are you still going to hold back, Elucard?”

Keth asked again, “Well, what have you got to say in your final moments?”

New-found energy coursed through Elucard's body as he once buried the throbbing pain in his arms deep in the dark soil of his mind. He grabbed a large stone that lay nearby and thwacked at Keth's skull, making blood gush from the side of his head. Elucard wasted no time. He swiped the two daggers from Keth's flailing hands, flinging them at two of Keth’s four goons.

The daggers violently pierced through their necks and crimson ribbons of blood gushed from the wounds they inflicted. Their lifeless bodies fell twitching on the ground as their allies rushed toward Elucard. He swiftly reached for his twin blades and made a quick set of well-aimed slices that slashed clean through their throats. They fell to their knees drowning and gurgling on their own blood.

***

Izian untied his two friends before limping over to Elucard who was standing over Keth.

“You offered me my last words. I shall do the same.” Elucard tapped his blade on the back of Keth's neck.

Keth glanced over his shoulder and sneered at Elucard.“There will be others.”

Elucard didn't bat an eye at the idea of this ordeal not being over, “So be it.” Moments later, Keth's head rolled on the cold, blood-drenched ground.

With Izian supported by Myler and Geven supporting Elucard, the four moved to the light that flooded into the forest from the clearing ahead. They had made it out together. They had made it out alive. They had survived the Blood Forest, but they were all forever changed. There was no going back to their old lives now.

Koda sat at the foot of his bed staring at a letter that rested in his hand. It was from his grandfather, Xile. A little over a year had passed since he left the isle of Nashoon to visit his father. Time in Lost Dawns seemed to blur past him. It felt as though only a moment had passed since he was standing among the thick, verdant forest of the beautiful island staring up at the thousands of giant evergreen fingers that stretched toward the sky. But that was a year ago. The city was blossoming into something grand, and the fact that it was all forged by his father was something special. He was proud of him. Although their relationship had been strained in the past, he was learning to appreciate the work of a king, of his king, of his father.

The letter was written in the dead language of Ancient Fey, but Koda knew the language well. It read:

Grandchild, a full year has passed since you left Nashoon. I hope your time spent with Jaelyn goes well. The winter still does not touch our undying forest, but only because an Arcane Guardian wards the woods. You know this, Grandchild. You also know my time draws near. There was once a time when our kind would live for an eternity, untainted by age. Time, however, does not see us as equals any longer. I write to remind you that an Arcane Guardian must be trained to take on my duties – to protect the forest, its runes, and its secrets. Grandchild, I will not force you, as I did not force my own children, but I can not wait much longer. An Arcane Guardian must be chosen.

Koda lay back comfortably against Wildeye’s soft fur as if she were a warm pillow. He pressed the paper against his face and sighed heavily, “Wildeye, I don’t know what to do. I mean, I know what to do, but at the same time…”

He rolled onto his side to look into his familiar’s flaring magical eye, “Becoming the Arcane Guardian has always been the path set before me. I was practically raised on that island. My first memories were of the runes.” He outstretched his hand as if remembering the touch of coarse stone, “Why does father hate it all? Uncle Tull, too. They both abandoned their duties, for… for mother.”

Koda’s eyes widened as he saw a glimpse of a blurred figure. Crimson red hair is all he could remember of her. Wildeye cocked her head slanted, “I don’t know her. I only know of her. She died having me…” Koda grew hoarse trying to explain things to his wolf, “She was the one that convinced Father to unite the tribes. It was her dream before his. He fell in love, leaving Nashoon for her. Uncle Tull left too, all three of them were close.”

Wildeye licked off the small tears streaking down Koda’s cheeks, “Father wants me close because he sees her in me. I can’t blame him, but I can’t ignore my destiny.” Koda wrapped his arms around Wildeye, “You understand, right? This is the right decision. It has to be. But then, why is it such a hard decision to make?” Wildeye rubbed her nose on the elf’s chest in response, “What’s in my heart? Being an Arcane Guardian is greater than myself or even my family. That’s what they never understood. It may seem cold, but it’s rational. Wildeye, we have to go back. Grandfather needs me more than Father does. Greater still, Nashoon needs me more than either of them.” Koda pushed his forehead into the wolf’s cobalt fur, “I’ll miss them, I really will, and Lost Dawns. The city has grown on me. We’ll leave in the morning.”

The sudden sound of knocking surprised the two of them and Wildeye nudged for Koda to get up, “Enter, please.” Koda said, pushing himself upright.

A servant walked in, dressed in a fine red tunic. He bowed before speaking, “Prince Koda, the king summons you.”

***

Koda and Wildeye walked the long marble halls of the castle. A mural of the Elder Tree wrapped both walls. Images of flowers, ancient elves, and wisps were painted in brilliant hues around the center piece. Coming up to a cherry wooden door, Koda rapped quickly on it and waited for his father’s response before entering.

“You summoned me, Father?” Koda looked up at his father, wondering what he could have needed from him at such a late hour.

King Jaelyn poked his head above a large stack of paperwork. A weird look hung off his face, “Summoned?” he asked, confused.

Koda chuckled at his choice of words, “You called for me?”

Jaelyn slid his chair back away from his writing desk before crossing his legs, “Your tutor tells me you’ve finished your studies. All high marks. Any particular areas where you might consider further studying? Perhaps politics?”

Koda’s eye flinched with a sting of annoyance, “Father, I know where you are going with this, but we’ve discussed this. In fact, a letter from Nashoon arrived this afternoon. My time here is at its end, I must go back.”

“You are next in line to become King. You know as well as I that I won’t live forever. With the amount of enemies I have, it is all too likely that it won’t be age alone that kills me,” Jaelyn said.

“Father, don’t say that!” Koda protested. His face flushed with anger at the thought of his father meeting a clandestine end.

Jaelyn stood, gesturing with his hands, “Lost Dawns needs an heir. I need an heir, and that is what you are and that is who you are. Stay in Lost Dawns. Be by my side and prepare for your future.”

“What about Uncle Tull?” Koda asked sincerely, “He’d make a much better king than I would.”

Jaelyn frowned slightly at his son’s words, “Tull is my brother and you are my son. As long as I have a Dawnedge child in line for the crown, Tull’s rightful place is at our side, not on the throne. You know this.”

“What of the Elven Lords?” Koda asked with a tinge of desperation in his voice. This wasn’t his destiny. It couldn’t be his destiny. Jaelyn leaned forward in a manner that did not send a welcoming message to his son. He seethed beneath the surface and Koda knew that his suggestion infuriated his father.

Before Jaelyn could respond, Koda spoke up once more, “Father, you see me as the next king, but Grandfather sees me as the next Arcane Guardian. What am I to do? I stand at a crossroads where the future of the realm hinges on my decision.”

“Xile, that old fool. My son, ‘Arcane Guardian’ is a dead title,” the king spat.

“Father! How could you say that! Guarding Nashoon and its secrets is a prestigious honor!” Koda lashed back in protest.

“Nashoon, like your grandfather, is a relic of the past! Its secrets were already exploited and plundered during the Arcana War,” Jaeylen said, attempting to use the same reasoning that was used on him.

“So because you and Tull have turned your backs on your sacred duties, I must do the same?” growled Koda, angrily.

Jaelyn thrust a finger at his son, “Hold your tongue! Don’t you forget who I am!”

Koda was silent, clenching his teeth and scowling. Hot tears formed in his eyes. Jaelyn leaned on his desk and rubbed his forehead in frustration, “Koda, I don’t think you realize what we’ve created here; what your mother has created. We aren’t some simple town. We are a nation and I lead our people. We aren’t alone in this world either. There are many, many others – other rulers, other nations. They will be looking to us to contribute to this world. You wish to protect Nashoon? Nashoon is now part of Long Whisper, and everyone here looks toward us for protection. The time of the Arcane Guardian has passed.”

“It has not passed!” Koda stomped his foot in aggravation.

Jaelyn took a long breath, “You wish to continue your studies? I will build a mage school at the center of Lost Dawns. You can study new advancements of magic as well as the further history of the Mage Council that you wouldn’t be taught in Nashoon.”

Koda raised an eyebrow, “A mage school?” The thought danced in his mind. He thought of robed scholars who were taught and trained to shape Magi in order to tame the elements. Fire, earth, water, air, vernal, light, and even the shadows themselves. Koda dreamt of himself draped in elegant robes, a large tome in his hand, commanding the seven elements.

“Lost Dawns is a city of both progression and tradition. We can also be a beacon of academia and magic. You say you stand at a crossroads. You say that the future of the realm hinges upon your decision. That sounds like a king’s quandary to me.”

A smile grew across the young elf’s face, “I admit, my interest has piqued. I would be much better equipped to help grandfather if I stayed and trained as a mage first. Perhaps this could do Nashoon some good!” Koda dropped to a knee and held his familiar’s paw. Wildeye whined with distress, “I’m sorry girl, but this needs to be done. Nashoon will have to wait a little while longer. I would be a much stronger Guardian if I knew about the side of Magi Grandfather refused to teach me. You understand, right?” Wildeye nudged Koda’s face, a bit worrisome of being away from the isle, but nodded with the approval that Koda sought.

“Well, what did she say?” asked Jaelyn. He never had a familiar, so he was slightly curious of his son and wolf’s relationship.

“She says we’re staying.” Koda said gleaming widely.

Seventeen of the thirty elves that were recruited last year stood in a long line. They wore faces that showed both exhaustion and experience. Hands once only used to play with toys or help till a field were now used only to take lives and spill blood. Their eyes no longer widened with fear and dread at the thought of killing, but instead sought after the honor it brought upon them. These were no longer children, they were Black Rabbits.

Elucard stood among them. Like his peers, the remaining scraps of his innocence had been stomped out like an unwanted flame. A week had passed since the trauma of the Blood Forest. His eyes were still weary. It was as if he had been forced to stare at the sun for an hour. Blinded by his experience, born again, and now as a killer. A year ago was now an eternity away and so were thoughts of his family, village, and of Jetta. His reward for crossing the threshold was now before him.

“Palms up!” A command echoed across the compound. Vada paced slowly in front of the remaining recruits. Avalon stood watching all of them as her blade sister went on with the ceremony. The instructors stood off to the side, kneeling and hiding the pride that they had for their students, “Draw daggers!” she roared. The recruits unsheathed their daggers, their hands outstretched with their palms facing up, “Prepare to draw blood!” Vada drew out a beautifully forged sword. It shimmered in the red light from the passing sunset. Although it was clearly as sharp as any other sword, it showed no chipping, for it was never used in combat.

She held the sword flat with both hands and walked up to each recruit, “Shed your blood upon this blade. For it is all that you now hold dear. It is Alanna. It is your Silent Master. It is your High Blade. It is your First Blade. It is your clan. It is yourself.”

Elucard trickled his blood drops onto the blade. Each command shouted at him he followed without a second thought. He was like them now, his new heroes, his new comrades, his new family. He would kill for them and he would die for them. All for Alanna, all for the clan. Never before had he felt such loyalty for a cause.

Vada passed the blade by each Black Rabbit who watched from the sidelines. Each bowed to the sword in silent reverence. Vada continued, “You are now bound to each of us, as we are now bound to you. Your hand will heal, but this binding will never be severed.”

Finally, she handed the sword to Avalon, who bowed to it and sheathed it back into its scabbard. Vada nodded to her blade sister, signaling for her to finish the speech, “Even in death, you will have that bond. Congratulations, you are now Black Rabbits!”

***

“Another Autumn’s moon, Elucard,” said Legion, “You’ve been with us two years and you’ve been a Rabbit for one. Do you still think about that vagabond?”

“Everyday, Master,” Elucard answered honestly.

Legion tossed another log into the fire. They were on the shore, miles away from any soul that could disturb them. Elucard always looked forward to these nights. Legion only brought him here when there was something to celebrate. A birthday, a solstice, an anniversary of an important mission… But there were none of these to celebrate tonight.

“Master, why did we come here tonight?” Elucard shifted a little closer to the warmth of the fire and waited for Legion to answer.

“It is important for you to remember your first kill. Never forget the pain it caused you. It keeps you mortal. It makes you cherish your own life.”

Elucard leaned back and gazed up at the endless blanket of stars that wrapped the night sky, “It still haunts me. Do you remember your first kill?”

Legion looked uncomfortable for a moment before replying, “Avalon requested that I bring you on a mission. She wishes to inspect my ability to teach first hand.” Legion had hastily deflected his young student’s question and it seemed to have paid off. Elucard quickly sat up with a glowing smile.

“The High Blade wants me to go on a mission with her?” Elucard didn’t bother trying to hide his excitement. This was an honor he never dreamed he would have.

“We are to assassinate a nobleman. Duke Cray Redroot. Apparently, his son is impatient and wants the estate now rather than later. We will strike a carriage that will be escorted by the White Cloaks.”

“White Cloaks?” Elucard asked. He had heard of several other small forces that served as a paid militia, but this one he was not familiar with.

Legion stirred the fire, “It’s hardly surprising that you’ve never heard of them. Their reach doesn’t usually extend as far as Ravenshore. The Guard of the White Cloaks is a guild of mercenaries that pass themselves as the law men in our country.”

“How do mercenaries get to be the law?” Elucard asked. The people of Ravenshore more or less governed themselves as best they could. Such a small town had no need of lawmen.

“When our country was established, of the eight noble tribes who joined together in the great alliance, none were of the warrior tribes, for the warriors refused to be ruled. Once the assassination attempt on King Jaelyn failed, the White Cloaks were hired to keep the peace in Long Whisper. They act as an army and as civil servants.”

Elucard took a long pause before asking his next question, “If the White Cloaks are the law, are we the criminals?”

Legion smiled, “It is true that we act outside the law, but that is because we must. We are not good, nor are we bad. We are a neutral party. We are merely a tool for those who use us. If they use us as a weapon to do evil, then they are the criminals.” Elucard lay back down, satisfied with his Master’s answer, “Rest up, my student. We meet with Avalon at dawn’s first light.”

Avren came into the chamber that he and Wiccer shared. He found his brother drying his hair wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Wiccer stared at him, shaking his head, but quickly went back to his book once Avren caught a glimpse of his disapproving gaze.

“Another night with that Rabbit? The men are starting to question your judgment,” he said without looking up from his book.

Avren threw the wet towel he was drying his hair with at Wiccer, “She’s got a lot of useful information for us. We’re learning far more about the infrastructure of that clan than we ever could have hoped to before.”

Wiccer ducked the towel, “Has she disclosed the location of the Rabbit hideout yet?”

“Well, no,” he admitted, “I’m still working on that…”

Wiccer balled up the towel to throw it back, “And no doubt your girlfriend told you who the Silent Master was?”

“She doesn’t know their identity and she’s not my girlfriend. We just have an intimate…” Avren paused while thinking of the right word, “…business relationship. Right now I’m still trying to convince her that the White Cloaks aren’t mercenaries.”

Wiccer gawked at the thought, “Mercenaries? Far from it! We are paid for our protection, not for our ability to put others to the sword. These filthy rabbits on the other hand…” Wiccer spat in disgust, “They are the mercenaries! Not us!”

Avren pulled up a pair of trousers, nodding to everything his brother shouted, “I agree little brother. Elisa has just been indoctrinated by this bunny cult. Give her time and she’ll come around to our way of thinking.” Picking up a letter from the neighboring dresser, Avren spun the envelope to his brother, “A letter from Pops arrived.”

It had been a year since the White Cloaks put a stop to the Black Rabbits’ attempts at sabotaging the city. King Jaelyn ordered that a guild hall be established within Lost Dawns walls and Avren had been selected to lead the newly established division.

Wiccer jumped from his bunk tossing his book onto a nearby desk. He snatched the letter in mid flight with curiosity and quickly tore it open to read the parchment inside.

“Congratulations little brother,” Avren smiled.

Wiccer hooted with excitement, “I’ve been promoted to Sergeant! How long have you known about this?”

“Pops wrote to me a week ago asking if you were ready for the responsibility.” Avren had been promoted to Captain himself after successfully protecting Lost Dawns and establishing a base in the city.

“And you kept this a secret from me?” Wiccer said, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow.

Avren laughed a bit, “I have a mission for you, Sergeant.”

Wiccer’s chest rose with pride, “What do you have for me, Captain?”

You’ll be taking a squad of Cloaks to escort Duke Cray’s carriage back to his manor. He was here for an opera last night. Although we haven’t heard a peep of Rabbit activity in Lost Dawns in a while, Elisa assures me it’s only because they have been preoccupied training their new recruits. This mission should be safe enough, but be prepared to run into them. The carriage leaves in the morning. Be safe, little brother.”

***

Avalon was a young human in her mid twenties which made her only slightly younger than Legion. A black mask veiled her upper features save for her cool green eyes, and a silver hood and cloak accented the mask. A crude scar ran diagonally below her left ear reaching to the edge of her mouth – a loving gift from her Blade Sister, Vada. She gripped her lightly crafted sword that was sheathed behind her waist, “Be on your guard, our target approaches.”

The three Rabbits: Avalon, Legion, and Elucard were concealed within the branches of a tree that still had much foliage left to shed. The autumn leaves were turning a vivid red, bright as the sunset that broke through the dusk. The road snaked along a rocky ravine where a small stream flowed.

Avalon placed her hand on Elucard’s shoulder, “Calm your nerves. You have been on missions before, and this will be no different.” It was true, Elucard had completed several missions. All successful. He had been sent on them alone, with a team, and by Legion’s side; however none had been done alongside the High Blade. Elucard took a deep breath, trying to rest the thoughts that plagued his mind.

Will I impress Avalon? What if I fail? I can’t screw this up!

The clopping of hoofsteps making their way down the road cut through the silent morning air.

Avalon whispered so low only trained ears could pick up the wispy sounds, “I see three Cloaks on horseback leading the carriage, and two in the rear with their commanding officer; just a Sergeant by the looks of him. Elucard, he looks about your age.”

“Elucard, you can handle the rear. I’ll take the vanguard,” Legion said, pointing at the three White Cloaks in front of the carriage.

“That leaves me with the mark,” Avalon drew her blade waiting for the carriage to go under the large branch where the three were perched, “May Alanna grant us grace.”

Elucard watched as his Master and High Blade dropped effortlessly from their hiding spot. Legion landed without a sound on top of the middle guard, driving his long sword in between the shoulder blades of his victim. Before the adjacent guards could cry for help, Legion launched twin daggers from either side of him into their throats.

Elucard watched in complete awe at his master, but shook his head to concentrate on the task at hand. Somersaulting and twisting into a flying drop kick, Elucard connected with a rear guard’s jaw. The loud crack rocked him off his horse and onto the dirt path. He gracefully sent several daggers soaring into the neck and face of the second guard, who screamed in pain.

Wiccer’s eyes widened in horror and panic. His mission was going to hell right before his eyes. He drew his blade and called for the carriage driver to make a break for it. With the snap of a whip, the carriage took off in a mad dash with Avalon clinging tightly to its roof.

Wiccer turned his attention toward the young Elucard. Storming forward with his horse, he attempted to make a sweeping slash at him, but the assassin was too agile. Elucard sidestepped the attack, grabbed Wiccer’s outstretched sword arm, and yanked him off his horse. The Cloak fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Slightly dazed, Wiccer scrambled to get to his feet and raised his sword in a defensive stance. Elucard slowly began to circle him. Wiccer stood firm, watching Elucard’s steps, waiting for the assassin to make his move, “Draw your blade Rabbit,” he growled.

Elucard scanned his surroundings, seeing Legion chasing after the carriage, “I fear I must make this quick. Forgive me, kid.” Elucard slid his blade out, flipping its grip as he rushed headlong toward Wiccer, slicing through the air. He expected to feel his blade tear through flesh as he brought it down on Wiccer, but was instead met with the hard clanking of steel meeting steel. Sparks flew each time the warriors exchanged glancing strikes.

Elucard flipped over Wiccer, switching up tactics and connecting with a roundhouse kick to his foe’s head. Wiccer stumbled, his vision momentarily blurred as he dug his sword into the dirt to stabilize himself. Elucard followed through with a flourish of kicks, backing Wiccer further to the edge of the deep ravine.

Elucard smirked as he let loose a savage straight kick at Wiccer’s chest. Replying with a smirk of his own, Wiccer dodged with a sidestep and made for a slashing attack. Elucard was quick to avoid the strike, but lost footing and tumbled down the jagged hillside. Elucard heard a brutish ‘crack’ of a bone in his arm as he landed on the hard stones. Skidding to a stop and into the shallow waters of the river, Elucard laid unmoving from intense pain. His hand shook as it strained to reach for his sword that was resting on a nearby rock.

Still inching with his good arm, the blade was suddenly kicked away as a different sword slapped the side of his face, “What is your name, Rabbit?”

Elucard grimaced from the sharp pain jolting down his fractured arm, “I did – I didn’t think White Cloaks would come so young.”

“Nor did I know murderers would come so young,” spat Wiccer.

“I’m not a murderer. I’m a tool. We work outside the law to bring balance to the world.” Elucard took pride in his words, but he struggled to get them out.

Wiccer lifted Elucard upright, by his collar, “You would have the world burn!”

“If the world were to become overgrown, it would smother itself until its own destruction. So yes, to save the world, I would burn it!” Elucard sweat as he managed to smile despite the overwhelming discomfort.

Wiccer shook his head in disbelief. He raised his sword preparing to thrust into the would-be assassin. Elucard’s face turned serious as he looked with pity at Wiccer, “You’ll always remember your first kill.”

Wiccer clenched his teeth and tightened his now sweaty grip on his sword, “I’ve killed plenty!” he lied.

Elucard eased his voice, “No, I don’t think you have.”

Wiccer thrust the blade forward, but stopped just short of Elucard’s stomach. Frustrated, he threw Elucard to the ground. Elucard grunted, gingerly rolling to avoid further injuring his arm. Wiccer stepped away from him, “Do not think me sparing your life is a sign of weakness. What is your name, Rabbit? Give it to me, I deserve to know.”

“Aye, you’ve beat me. My name is Elucard Freewind of the Black Rabbit Clan. Allow me yours, so that I know who bested me.”

Wiccer sheathed his blade and grinned from the compliment, “Sergeant Wiccer Newsun, Son of Marcus Newsun of the Guard of the White Cloaks. Know this Elucard, the next we meet, you will not be spared.”

Elucard nodded before passing out.

***

The carriage careened down the path as Avalon held on for dear life. Struggling from the wind, she made a daring play and swung herself through the door of the carriage, landing inside. A startled elf with red rusted hair and a goatee to match gasped, startled from Avalon’s appearance. In his lap was a small elven girl, no older than a toddler.

Avalon brought her blade’s tip to the neck of the duke. Cray Redroot sobbed at the sight of the sword, “Please madame, if you must kill me, spare my daughter. Her mother would be devastated if she were to lose me and our little Bess on the same morning.”

“Call for your man to stop the carriage,” commanded Avalon.

With the carriage stopped, Avalon took a hard look at the saddened little girl and clenched her teeth. In the past she had killed many men, many women, and even needed to kill a child or two, but each death chipped away at her weary soul. She was tired of this lifestyle, tired of the needless bloodshed. Her soul longed for redemption, but as High Blade of the Black Rabbit clan, such a wish would never be granted.

“Please, spare my child,” the pleas echoed over and over again in Avalon’s head. It was as though she was caught in a shallow trance, half listening to the duke and half listening to her own thoughts. Avalon’s blade fell to her side as Legion entered the carriage.

“What are you doing?” Legion’s voice pierced through Avalon’s heavy-hearted mindset. She sheathed her blade and stepped out of the carriage. Passing Legion she spoke softly, “Kill the mark, spare the child.”

Legion coldly answered back, hiding his suspicions, “Yes, my High Blade.”

A child’s cry cut through the autumn’s morning, a cry that would haunt Avalon for eternity.

Within a small room flickered the many candles of Alanna’s shrine. Each half melted candle sent warm wax dripping down into tiny puddles on the floor. Dusty and broken stained glass windows depicted the Death Goddess drawing her bow before reaping the souls of those who were to pass on to the Roaming Plane.

Beneath the shadows of an altar, Avalon prayed. Five days ago her cowardice had crippled her so far that Legion was required to kill in her stead. Not only that, but now a fear festered deep in her heart that she could never kill again. While it was true that she possessed the skill and ability to kill, the desire was what she found herself lacking. She thought of the little girl's eyes as they peered back at her in despair. Guilt pierced through her soul and the weight of all she had done settled on her shoulders with the heaviness of an anchor.

“Alanna, I need your guidance. I fear I can not carry the burden of your task any longer,” Avalon prayed, desperately seeking a sign – any sign – from the deity that she served and worshiped all of her life.

“Sister, what burden do you speak of?” Avalon snapped open her eyes and spun her head, her hand half-rested on the blade next to her. Although it was only Vada, she still felt tense by her presence. Vada stepped out of the shadows of the temple and into the dim, flickering light of the candles. She knelt down beside her blade sister and lit a new candle. She chanted a small prayer, hoping to ease her friend’s troubled mind.

Alanna, please come hither,

And string your bow with lace,

Draw an arrow from your quiver,

And lay her fears to waste,

Without you she will wither,

So, Goddess please make haste,

Alanna please forgive her,

And forever grant her grace,

Vada finished before turning to her lifelong friend, “Avalon, what troubles you? You've been aloof in training and distant ever since your last mission.”

Avalon tightened her eyes and went back to praying, ignoring the questions. Vada prodded further, “Avalon, we've know each other since we came here as recruits. We might not be from the same village or related by blood, but we're best friends. You know me better than I know myself. We have a connection that is as true as the bond that real sisters share.” Vada took hold of Avalon's hands. They were shivering as Avalon began to cry, “Don't let this eat you up from the inside. Please Avalon, tell me what weighs upon you. I want to help.”

Avalon's tears rolled down her cheeks as Vada wiped them away with her sleeve. The High Blade whispered her response at first, barely able to croak out her words. She was ashamed of the feelings she had in her heart. She felt that they betrayed everything she was taught, “I – I don't want to kill any longer. It breaks my heart each time I take a life. It's all wrong! What we do is wrong. I want this pain to end.”

Vada's nurturing face turned grim, “Avalon, what you speak of is treason to this clan. You are High Blade, you can't mean these words.”

“But I do mean them!” Avalon's voice was quivering. She had served the Black Rabbits since she was ten. In those years she had committed unspeakable acts, but now more than ever, she was confused as to why she had done them.

Vada put her hands on her blade sister's shoulders, “It's alright to feel lost. Sometimes we need to step back to see the bigger picture. What Alanna asks of us is–”

“Bullshit! It’s bullshit, Vada! I'm done with it all. I want out! I regret everything I've done and will no longer take part in it.”

Vada slowly shook her head in disbelief, “Where will you go, what will you do? You know they'll send someone after you.”

Avalon stood and began to pace the temple. For years everything was within her control, but now she was disheveled. She was a mess, “There's a guild of warriors that serve Jedeo. I could join their ranks, redeem myself…” Her eyes widened, “Come with me, Vada!”

Vada looked at her blade sister with utter contempt, “Never. The Silent Master will hear of this. If you have resigned yourself to treason and cowardice, then you are no sister of mine.”

Avalon picked up her blade and moved towards the archway, “Please, come with me.” She spun around beckoning her blade sister to follow, “You and I, together… We don’t have to repeat the mistakes of those that came before us! We can break this chain. Please, come with me, Vada. I don’t want to do this on my own.”

Vada turned to face away from her, disgusted by the very sight of her, “I'll give you until nightfall to leave.”

“Sister, please..”

Vada mustered all her power to fight back her tears, “Go… just go.”

***

Elucard woke in the infirmary with a dull pain in his arm. It had been bandaged and was finally free from the tyranny of what he considered to be the itchiest sling ever made. The sages had done a phenomenal job at repairing his arm. He had always wondered how the Black Rabbits recovered from severe injuries so quickly, and now he knew first-hand. Alanna had once walked among the sages and showed them how to stave off death, or so the story goes.

Legion sat at Elucard’s bedside, lost in a complete daze. News of Avalon's defection had traveled quickly. An elite troupe of Rabbits had been tasked with putting down the former High Blade and Vada had been charged with leading them. With the seat of the High Blade vacant due to treason, the First Blade was stripped of her rank. Vada would have to return with proof of Avalon’s demise in order to regain her standing and ascend to the position of High Blade. In the meantime, Legion had been personally asked by the Silent Master to serve as High Blade.

“Master, are you ok?”

Legion snapped out of his trance to a worried Elucard. Rumors filled the air like a thick smoke. Some said that Avalon abandoned the clan to form her own. Others said that she fled due to her own deep-seeded cowardice and spat on the ground. But rumors are just rumors. They may as well be tales of Alanna walking among the sages. Nevertheless, the leadership feared that dissension was sure to follow within the lower ranks in the absence of a strong High Blade.

“Elucard, how's your arm?”

“It's stiff.” Elucard carefully measured his mentor’s face before asking the question that had plagued his mind since news of Avalon’s treason had reached him. A long silence hung in the air for what felt like several moments before he decided to proceed with great caution, “Master, why did Avalon leave?”

Legion sighed greatly. He was present when Vada informed the Silent Master of Avalon's betrayal. He learned of Avalon's doubts and how she had openly blasphemed Alanna to her blade sister, “Elucard, do you believe we are a family?”

Elucard nodded. In his early days of becoming a Rabbit, he didn’t quite know what he wanted from the clan. He just knew he wanted something. Soon, he felt camaraderie with the other clan members and had a father figure in Legion; a father that had grown to replace even the memories of his own real father.

He hadn’t really thought about family since he was taken from Ravenshore. His mother’s face was a faded blur, his father was now just an idea, and Jetta…

The Black Rabbits were all he had now. It was clear to him as he sat and stared back at his mentor, “I suppose the clan is my family. It’s more of a family than I can even remember having before.”

“Elucard, Avalon no longer believed that the clan was her family, and her betrayal has grievously wounded us all. If a Rabbit leaves the clan, they must be dealt with. When you take up a blade for the clan, you do it for life. Do you understand that, my student?”

“Master, I would never betray my family!”

Legion nodded, pleased with Elucard’s response, “Very good. Now, let’s see to you getting out of this bed and back to training.”

***

“Silent Master, the morale of the clan is low. The loss of Avalon dealt a tremendous blow to our leadership. There are reports of a small group of deserters who fled under cover of the night.” Legion knelt in a small, shadowy room hidden deep within the main compound of the Black Rabbit retreat. It was the meditation quarters of the Silent Master. Only those closest to him were allowed entry.

“They must be dealt with. Made an example of…” The Silent Master spoke in his low, gravelly voice.

“I'll send Baines and Ridge to track them down,” Legion said, quickly.

“No, that will not do.”

“Master, Ridge is our best tracker, and Baines will make quick work of the defectors. With the oncoming weather, these deserters will be tough to catch,” Legion said, confused with the Silent Master’s refusal.

“Send your whelp.”

Legion raised his head in shock, “Elucard? Master, wouldn’t it be far more efficient to send Baines and Ridge? This task needs to be carried out with the utmost precision.”

“Why do you hide his talents from me?”

Legion paused, Elucard was growing into a fine assassin, and his peers could see this. Although this task would be an excellent mission for Elucard to undertake, there was still more to the situation than Legion was letting on, “Master, I fear Elucard…”

“The ones who ran, were they the boy’s friends?”

Legion left a long pause hanging delicately in the air between them.

The Silent Master continued, “This will be Elucard's final test. He may be a Rabbit in name, but he is not yet a Rabbit in his heart. It is true that he learned much from the Blood Forest, but his greatest trial has yet to come. This task must be his and his alone.”

“As you say, Master,” Legion said, the words nearly getting tangled in his throat.

The Silent Master grinned beneath a sea of shadows.