Chapter 1

1E, 143

The God of Luck once more flipped the golden coin and kept his gaze fixed on it as it fell.

As the golden coin fell, a loud cry of a baby filled the room. A room dwemer made, a room in Fahlbtharz.

“Hush now,” his hopeless whispers were ignored by the baby.

“Give her here, Sai.”

“That never worked before, you know.” He replied to the woman. But the woman was insistent,

“It worked perfectly, you know.”

The Lord of Luck fell silent, not speaking anymore. And he let The Lady of The Dreams, Vaermina, wrap the crying baby in her arms.

To silence her, for four eras to come.

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4 E, 187

I remember the sun's rays reflecting off the soldiers' golden helmets, their gleam almost magical. I blinked a few times rapidly, enraptured by the sight. My gaze shifted to meet my mother's, and a sudden wave of fear washed over me. One of the soldiers, clad in resplendent elven armor, stepped forward, a sly grin playing on his lips. His bronze eyes bore into me, as if he could see my very soul and was eager to consume it.

At eight years old, I was as innocent and trusting as any child.

"Niolenyl!" My mother's urgent, silent scream made me turn to face her again. Her hand stretched out towards me, her slender frame trembling, as it always did when she was distressed. The fear of upsetting her was a unique burden I seemed alone to carry in our family.

My eyes darted towards the porch and the front door of our tree house, searching for my father or one of my brothers. Suddenly, a cold touch on my cheek halted me. I didn't flinch, but I felt frozen in place.

The unseen hand turned my face in the direction it desired, and in bewilderment, I allowed it.

Fire flickered in the elf's eyes, sending chills down my spine. My eyes widened, but I dared not look away. "What a lovely name," the high elf spoke with an accent that then seemed almost whimsical, and I remember smiling.

"Thank you," I murmured, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth.

"Tell me, Niolenyl," his finger trailed off my cheek as he began, "do you love your mother?" He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and held my gaze, expectantly.

His question silently ignited the flame of my first ever doubts and fears. As an eight-year-old, I harbored as many heartaches as any other child.

My thoughts began to whirl, memories of my mother flooding in. There she stood, both in my memory and beneath the gate of our house, with her emerald eyes, always braided long brown hair, and the freckles that graced her face.

I looked nothing like her.

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"I do," I replied, my voice trembling.

My answer made the elf's grin widen into a more sinister expression. He straightened, making me look up at him as the sun's rays once again dazzled my eyes.

"Please!" My mother's plea resonated as she took a few hesitant steps towards me and the elf. "She is but a child."

Her words echoed in my mind, filling me with confusion about what she was pleading for. As one of the soldiers behind the leader reached for his sword, my mother continued her advance, undeterred.

She was fearless, as always.

Only when the sword was drawn inches from her nose did she halt. Her gaze momentarily flickered back to the house before returning to the elf leader.

"Please, she will be of no use to you."

The leader raised an eyebrow and turned his piercing gaze to me, his eyes now glowing with an almost demonic intensity. "She is far from ordinary, and you know it," he hissed.

As I stepped back, I collided with what I thought was a wall and stumbled to the ground. It was not a wall but the tallest of the soldiers, standing as still and imposing as a stone tower. It was a woman of ethereal beauty. "I-I'm sorry," I stammered, rising to my feet, but the woman's brown eyes remained cold and emotionless.

"Come now, Niolenyl," the leader extended his hand, his tone now devoid of its former warmth, carrying an air of command and inevitability.

A loud thud echoed behind me, causing the woman to stumble back, her golden winged helmet dented on the left side.

“Leave her alone!” The voice was unmistakable. Elamoril, my friend—perhaps the only friend I had—stood perched in a tree, a rock poised in his hand.

My heart swelled with warmth. For a fleeting moment, I believed he could scare away the soldiers with mere stones.

“Elamoril!” His mother’s voice rang out as she hurried towards us. “Please,” she begged, mirroring my own mother’s pleas, “Forgive us. My son is a troubled child.” She fidgeted with her wrists, avoiding the soldiers' gazes. Her distress mirrored my mother’s.

I didn’t understand much back then. All I saw were the soldiers' gleaming armor, their golden winged helmets, and their elegant steeds. I remember feeling a pang of envy.

That’s right. Envy, as much as an eight-year-old could feel.

“Get him down, now!” a soldier barked, prompting others to move toward Elamoril’s tree.

His mother’s desperate cries echoed through the forest. “Please! Mercy! My lord!”

As the soldiers advanced, Elamoril’s bright smile brought a grin to my face. But his smile soon turned to determination, as determined as an eleven-year-old could be.

He climbed higher into the tree, his fiery amber hair tied back, flickering in the light filtering through the leaves. My gaze followed him until the leaves thickened and he disappeared from view. The soldiers clambered up the tree, breaking branches in their haste. They cared little for the pact we had with the green.

A pact my family and clan lived by. My mother often said that many Bosmer had abandoned their faith in the pact, leaving only a few of us at Isinfier Plains, true to our ancestors' oath.

“Get that vermin down! Now!” another tall elf shouted.

Another thud, and a soldier in the back was knocked down by a rock. Elamoril was toying with them. He had silently jumped to another tree.

For a moment, even his mother seemed to believe he could win.

With a swift jump, he grabbed another branch, but the soldiers’ frustration grew. A silent hiss.

“Enough.”

And then there was fire.

The leader's magic set the trees ablaze with a burst from his wrists and palms. Elamoril leapt from tree to tree, but each was struck by fireballs, damaged beyond repair.

“The green,” my mother sighed in distress as the trees burned.

“Enough with the green, Yvgella!” Elamoril’s mother Sanra was furious. “That’s my son up there!”

My mother’s sorrowful eyes met hers. “I have only one son,” Sanra began, as if revealing a secret. “Unlike you.”

My mother’s face paled.

A crash distracted us as a pine tree cracked and caught fire. Elamoril jumped down with his hands up, and a soldier grabbed him by the nape, causing everyone to gasp.

“Please!” His mother’s plea went unheard by the elves.

Elamoril’s fragile body was thrown at their leader’s feet. After a long silence, the leader smirked, “Impressive,” he said. “Take these two.”

Screams and gasps of the crowd quickly silenced as the leader approached my mother, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“The Thalmor send their gratitude for your donations."

My mother remained silent, but Elamoril’s mother did not. “No!” She managed a few steps before a sword was at her chest. “You can’t take my son!” she begged. “Not because he threw some rocks!”

I pulled at my mother’s hand, but she didn’t look at me.

“Hers!” Sanra pleaded, gripping the sword. “Take hers!”

“Stand back!” the soldier with the sword warned, but she didn't stop.

“Please! You can’t take my son because he tried to protect his friend!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Her daughter!”. My mother tensed as the soldiers approached. She swayed aside, and my hand slipped from her grip.

I didn’t know it then, but it was the last time I saw her face. She was indifferent, her face relaxed as the soldiers grabbed me.

“Mother!” I called. “Please! Mother! No!”

But she remained stone-faced, emotionless.

My eyes searched desperately for my father as I was dragged toward Elamoril. “She has—” Elamoril’s mother’s pleas were cut short by the sword's push. Tears trailed down her face, matching my own.

“It’s just not fair!” she cried.

“Mother!” Elamoril shouted. “I will be fine!” He smiled brightly at her. “Just be there for dad and Cassinalda. They need you.”

“Uhh..” one of the soldiers grunted. “Dramatic.”

It was dramatic and terrifying. To be taken so easily as my mother watched. Without goodbyes from my father and brothers. The burden of my thoughts weighed heavily on my shoulders for the first time in my life.

As they put us in a carriage filled with other Bosmer children, I felt horror. Elamoril’s embrace warmed me, hiding my tears as I wept.

His cracking voice reassured me as we were taken.

“I am here. And I always will be.”

To be continued...