Magic Reborn

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

There were the fae who were the most infamous pranksters, the centaurs who tended to the land along with the elementals, and even the occasional dwarf when one ventures off near the mountains that lay west of the Valley, but never dragons. Dragons typically resided far up Northeast of the valley, where the soil darkens to a pitch black and the trees live in dormancy yearlong due to the ruptures of the volcanoes the winged beasts slept in. Their territorial ways left my ancestors that ruled this region for nearly a millennium to refer to the dragon hellscape as Fordbut, otherwise known as “Forbidden” within the English human tongue. Traveling to this no man’s land would take a minimum of two seasons because of the scarce mountainous region that engulfs the distance, only after venturing through the inexorable thick woods inhabited by colossal ogres. No creature dares take on such an arduous venture without being referred to as deranged by the rest of the diverse populace.

In fact, there were only two legendary elves to have ever taken on the dangerous journey ever in our millennia of civilization upon this land. The first was Alas Danorin, who was to never return after promises of magical resources beyond our understanding. Our community had experienced a relentless drought at the time. Our people had just settled into the territory, fields blanketed in sand, resources as scarce as the mountains. Our people were scared and fatigued, facing death even after our escape from Glolthell, the most treacherous of human civilizations, known for their oppressive treatment against their elven slaves, that is until after the uprising. Left with limited options and resources in exchange for our freedom, my people’s way became nomadic in search of complete renewal. It would take years before our people reached the valley desert.

With Danorin gone for seasons on end, it was believed that he had passed in search of the supposed treasures for his people. His permanent absence led our ancestral leaders to use what little magic we had to summon the fae, who blessed the land with nutrients to develop what we consider our present Utopia in exchange for a memory of the people. To this day, no one remembers what memory we decided to give for the exchange, but none of us are really bothered by that empty closet in our minds considering the abundance we’ve experienced since. The cultural rules of the fae fall in similarity with us elves so harmony was never a difficult task, especially with the centaurs who behave similarly to that of translators. The agrarian lifestyle we elves practice in harmony with other creatures created an abiding peace amongst each species in the Valley, with an abundant trading system that fed even the woodland creatures through most of the winter.

The second elf to ever take on the leave did return, only to present the dangers of making that decision. Her name was Rina Pithana, Alas’s life partner, who left in hopes of finding our missing inhabitant. Distraught by her lover’s disappearance, she proposed leaving our enriching land with the promise of presenting a map of the landscape’s outskirts for the people to further progress our trading system. Three seasons later, she returns riddled with scars and the most horrific burn mark any elf has ever laid eyes on. The burn covered half of her face and fell down to her waste, her arm presenting a striped pattern. It was she who witnessed the dragon hellscape and survived to tell the tale, her survival having resulted from falling off a cliff too small for the dragons to follow. The cliff was met with a turbulent river that carried her beaten body into the peaceful shores of our great lake, the smell of lavender waking her senses.

Rina spends the rest of her days isolated in the cottage where she and Alas once lived as a union, haunted by the memories of their past. Those with knowledge of history keep distance out of respect for her desires of solitude, forever thankful for the geographical information she achieved through sacrifice. The ignorant, however, warn children to keep away from catching sight of the cursed elf whose face so wretched it will melt your own, after seeing how her deformed disposition would trigger tears into changelings. Few visit in hopes of odd remedies made from herbs only found within the forest. Since her travels, she has found no fear in visiting the forests in search of such flora, whose capabilities only she has knowledge over due to the experience. Survival created an unbreakable bond with her and the herbs of the forest, stronger than her love for carpentry.

Elf inhabitants often decide their class or path in life in our village during their schooling before they reach 60 years of age. Afterwards, their schooling moves on to the trade. Mages fall into schooling, often finding an elder to follow into apprenticeship. Paladins often go through rigorous physical training before placing their oath to the Council, their powers intertwined with the magic of the fae. These elves typically come from what little nobility we have. I, Cellica Norjyre, chose the path of a ranger, in hopes of honoring the art of the hunt my elemental guardians have passed on to me. My mother, whose powers are beyond even her control at times, found her magic through the power of fire, while my father mastered earth, in all its strength and straightforward ways.

Our civilization may be young, but our experience and knowledge of our land is far from outdated, so when unpredictable weather patterns began to grow to the point that it would harm our prioritized trading system, leaving the elementals fatigued and the wings of fae shaking in intuitive fear, my people reacted with concern so strong our leaders would coordinate a group of mages to dedicate time to discover the source of this decline. This decision would be placed just before the flow of the Anduin River ceased from its flow, cutting off our great lake’s connection to the rest of the land.

The Anduin River, the same river that provides fresh water to the great lake Quenya, which in turn provides life for both us and our crops during the dryer seasons, had somehow been cut off. The same river that had brought Rina back to our shores, the same river who holds memory and magic blessed by the fae, simply stopped flowing.

Our people do not have much access to elven magic due the people of Glolthell keeping our elven culture from us, and with Alas having never returned in search of such promises, my people were left wary of the idea that we even have such magic to begin with, like the high elves in the southern rainforests do. With the fae strengthening what little we have, we find our magic rebirthed through the elements, but only under the rules of the fae, which means whatever magic we emit to the world, we intake equally. This can mean our bodies heal as much as the bodies we heal by feeling as much pain as our opponents in battle. It is through the magic of the face that we survive this pain through their light, however with this newfound power our empathic intake doubled to the point where any sensation is felt all throughout our body and nervous system, forever enforcing the obligation we have to hold responsibility with our powers.

Honored enough to be picked among the few younger rangers to assist in excavating up north of the river to see its source, I remained hesitant as to why. A plan this desires only needed the best minds and rangers to be able to handle the unknown that could await in the excavation, and I was simply a youngling who hadn't even learned yet how to handle and connect with wild animals. I wasn't the only youngling who was brought along to join the journey, and questioning the elders was out of the question, so I vowed to myself to be as helpful as possible in finding the solution to this drought.

There she was, rumbling the earth even in sleep. I witnessed the enormous reptile blocking the river's passage. The beast’s blue scales were the size of the trees, her body resting on the edges of mountains. Her eyes remained closed, the joints of her body resembling that of the mountain rock formations. Despite being in slumber, my people remained in fear of its wake. Each large breath shook our feet as if miniature earthquakes passed through in a rhythm. The temperament in the area had changed drastically from a chilly climate into that of tropical. The heat was as powerful as my mother’s rage and passion and the rumbles were as intense as my father’s drive and stubbornness. Every so often water would spout from her the ridges, but her body was too much even for the coursing river.

Our units remained as distant as possible for reasonable safety precautions. No ranger in our village has ever tamed such a beast, let alone one so big it would block a river’s pathway, cutting off an entire ecosystem, and many feared the worst as to what this means. Such a creature has never traveled this close to the village, and who's to say more won’t make the journey? This beast alone has already disrupted the balance of our ecosystem to its very core, leaving creatures running from their homes. How can we possibly come up with a solution that doesn’t result in risking the burning of our village, or worse?