Chapter 17 - Deception

Sylvie felt her bloodlust dim as the Elder Tribal High Elf stilled.

Though she quickly realised that Drozzt, the one who crippled her brother, seemed to have escaped.

The desire to chase him down crossed her mind until she saw the horrified gaze of her brother and Arlen.

Then, the full realisation of the carnage she had caused began to settle in. Looking around, she observed the torn limbs and mauled bodies of the Tribal Wood Elves, all that blood, yet despite that, she felt strange, her thoughts clouded by the instincts of the beast soul that comforted her.

It was natural for the Apex Predator of the Forest to slaughter those that presume to cross its path. Why should she feel guilty?

It was then that she heard the noise of something approaching fast. Her senses were sharper than ever as a dire wolf, and she moved her head towards the direction it came from moments before she saw her Father emerge with an expression of rage on his face.

‘Pack.’ The thought entered her mind before she realised her father's hostile gaze was concentrated on her.

Sylvie felt herself suppressing her new instincts, quickly realising the scene must look terrible from her father's perspective.

Ballen looked at their father, still reeling from the trauma of having his limbs severed, yet when their father glimpsed into his eyes, he saw a dark, murderous look that had him yelling out, “Father, no!”

Sylvie was slow to react; she was still wondering what Ballen was concerned about until she felt the sensation of her heart being pierced.

She stared into her Father's eyes, taken aback by her situation.

His eyes held such darkness, and that was when she felt extremely cold and weak, her vitality quickly draining her as she died.

Or she thought she had. Sylvie found her perspective once again changing so fast. One moment, she was a large wolf, and the next, she was on the ground covered in blood and grime, staring into her father's shocked gaze.

“Sylvie…” As he stared into her eyes, her father seemed to realise the gravity of what he had just done.

“Dad, you’re fine!” Sylvie said slowly. Her time as the giant wolf felt like a blur, and she still felt so shocked by the image of her Father driving his blade into her that it was the only thing that came to mind.

“You’re a Druid… that means… what have I done?” Her father mumbled incoherently, a look of utter disbelief in his eyes.

It was then he stared around, noticing Ballen and Arlen. His gaze travelled to them, particularly her brother, concerned about his injuries.

He first checked him with urgency; nonetheless, the Elder Tribal Wood Elf had used healing magic that made him instantly stable, so though her Father was saddened by it, he was relieved his life was under no immediate concern.

However, a grave concern filled his gaze when he suddenly returned to her. “Sylvie! Listen to me now. We will be heading back to Falamel. We had reinforcements earlier, and Veron should be making his way here rapidly. We will not be able to hide everything. Veron will be suspicious, and though he is a good man, he is a Liadon, a part of the Triumvirate. When a Druid subjugates their first beast soul and has their first form, they usually wake with their core. Do you feel yours?”

It was then that Sylvie did as her Father said and felt it. Her core was large and pulsed quietly. She found herself oddly adapting quickly to it, like it was a natural part of her body, almost like a second heart, though instead of pumping blood, it circulated essence, the very fuel of magic.

Nodding to her father, he took on a serious expression. He said, “We must tell everyone that you experienced an awakening. It would be good to do this now. It is impossible to hide an awakening; the earlier, the better, as you will receive the proper systematic training that a proper Mage needs. Leaving it until you are older might risk them sending you to the High Elves, though you are just about young enough to prevent that for now. Another thing is we need to keep them away from even speculating on the thought of you being a Druid. Leaving this to mystery will make Veron think we’re hiding something; he is no fool.”

Then, her Father looked around at the scene, noticing the sheer brutality.

He turned to Arlen and Ballen, saying, “Both of you need to back this up. Ballen, I will do my best to call on all the favours I earned as a guardsman to get a healing mage to cast limb restoration. There are alchemists out there who can also restore limbs, so do not give up on your dream! Now, gather together. I must make this scene more realistic to correlate with a story.”

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Sylvie, Ballen, and Arlen looked around as he said that. The sheer brutality and state of the Tribal Wood Elves made them wonder how her Father, Yorik, would do that.

Arlen was still shivering as he walked to her, shaking his head and saying, “I’ve heard stories of Druids, though never met one. Extremely rare, there are far more Mages than them. I thought their reputation was exaggerated until I saw you. I encountered Dire Wolves in the Great Forest before. Fearsome beasts, but you made them look like wild dogs.”

Sylvie did not know what to say. Even now, she felt the comforting presence of the Dire Wolf soul, though it felt inactive as if it was recovering. Yet it remained ever present. She felt stronger than before, her senses sharper, and she felt the strong presence of nature more than ever.

Then, she realised another thing: now that her core had awakened, she could utilise another ability: wood shaping.

An ability was not like a spell that one had to learn to cast; it was instinctive, and all Sylvie needed to do was apply her will.

Moving her hand, she willed wood to appear, and it did. Magically, tendrils appeared and began moving across the forest floor towards them, to the shock of the others.

“Sylvie, is that you!” Ballen exclaimed in awe, the hopeless expression on his face disappearing.

Her Father, Yorik, was annihilating the bodies with sword strikes to make it look like he had killed them. He came back and said, “You awakened an ability, too? Very fortunate. Not everyone with a core has one. Hopefully, it makes the Triumvirate value you. Now Veron nears.”

Then, Sylvie noticed another thing: Her clothes seemed to magically meld with her as she shapeshifted and returned to normal as she reverted to her elven form.

The only blood and gore on her came from landing into a pile of it after her Father forcefully disrupted her shift.

‘Interesting.’ She found it fascinating and wanted to test it further, yet the strange sensations and how casually she handled slaughtering a bunch of Elves felt even weirder. She was strangely detached about it all, like it was not she who committed the act.

‘Is this usual for a Druid?’ She thought, even now, the presence of something inside her psyche, her soul, was there; the Dire Wolf was alive within her, and she felt it.

She was once again disturbed as her Father was proven right, with Veron emerging with a group of Wood Elves with a concerned expression.

He appeared concerned as he saw them, especially the injured Ballen, yet when he saw the state of the bodies, he looked suspicious, turning to her father as he said, “You did this? What happened?”

Her Father took on a solemn expression as he replied, “Sorry, friend. My rage got the best of me when I saw what they did to my son. I’m afraid I’ve left none alive.”

Veron seemed sceptical of her father's reasoning, yet fanatical, as he said, “Those Wood Elves are savage, so stuck in the old ways. As they do this to their people, the High Elves have brought much change, yet can’t they see the time of the Imperium is here? It’s the time of the Reverian Empire, where we Elves take our rightful place at the world's very top! We no longer need to hide in the Great Forest. We will take a place beside the Great High Elves. It is only a matter of time before the stubborn humans fall, then the dwarves, barbarians, beast kin. The war will end in our victory!”

Sylvie seemed shocked at Veron's sudden outburst. His friendly and professional demeanour turned venomous as he stared at the dead Tribal Wood Elves with a heated gaze, losing himself in the moment.

Her Father had a similar look about him, which concerned her even more. He nodded and said, “Good words, Friend. They are lost in the old ways, unable to see the truth.”

Veron seemed pleased at her Father's response, his suspicion partly receding as he replied, “You did well slaughtering them like the rabble they are. To attack their kin, to forsake the wise teachings of the great clans, they are no longer children of the Great Forest; they deserve no mercy. Though I would love to continue hunting them down, we must leave quickly. Reinforcements have come, yet I have no idea if there’s more of them hiding about. We will return to Falamel. The priority is getting the younglings back safe. This is no place for them.”

Her Father nodded, and then she, Ballen, and Arlen marched with Veron and the accompaniment of Wood Elves guardsmen backwards to Falamel.

The entire time her nerves increased.

‘Did Veron believe her Father?’ she thought. She knew her Father would be telling him shortly after she had awakened that she would apply for an academy tomorrow. Awakening a core and becoming a Mage leads to receiving the only structured schooling in Falamel. As Mages were rare and prioritised, their training was of the utmost importance, and there were not enough suitable tutors for individual Mentorship to work correctly.

She knew there was more to it. Her Father seemed afraid of Veron knowing the truth. When she saw Veron reveal some of the darker sides to his character upon fighting off the Tribal Wood Elves, she realised the so-called sanctuary of Falamel was far less safe than she thought.

Maybe the Wood Elves were no different; they were simply better at concealing the City's true nature and darkness. The Tribal Wood Elves were no better in how they attacked their group, yet something just felt off to her. The High Elves and Triumvirate were up to something, and she had no idea what.

‘And what is this about a war with humans?’ She thought before she was interrupted by the sound of cheering.

“We’re back! It’s over!” One of the trainee Wood Elves shouted.

“Yes, finally! Maybe the High Elves were onto something about…” another said, and Sylvie felt lost as she headed towards the gates with them.

There, they were met by a load of guardsmen, with Veron shouting orders and mentioning the attack from the audacious Tribal Wood Elves.

All Sylvie knew was that she was relieved to be heading back home.