Finton Merrybrook stared at the perfectly smooth metal sphere on his mantle.
“They were nothing more than men, well, elves, I suppose,” Finton Merrybrook said, sipping from his chalice.
The only reply the storyteller received was the crackling of logs in the nearby fire. His eyes followed the dancing shadows on the wall as he took another sip from his chalice, falling deeper into a peaceful stupor.
“Why do you love hearing this story? It doesn’t end well for you.”
The storyteller was once again met with silence. Finton tipped his goblet back and finished the remainder of his wine. He picked up the sphere and headed to the kitchen.
“Silly elves, fate is not one to be trifled with.”
A phantom gust of icy wind passed through the hearth, threatening to snuff out the fire.
“I know, I know. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me just get more wine,” he said, setting the sphere on a small wood table.
His drunken hands spilled more than a few drops as he filled the goblet. He giggled to himself.
“I’ll bet you miss wine, don’t you?” he asked.
The bottle of wine flew off the table with incredible speed, shattering against the wall and leaving a trail of deep crimson liquid dripping onto the floor.
“Oh, come now, that was hardly necessary!”
A chair beside the table pulled itself out slowly. Finton sighed.
“I hate it when the solstice comes around. You can suddenly manifest, and you always get so pushy!”
Finton sat in the chair, taking a large gulp from his wine. He looked down at the sphere on the table.
“You want to hear the story again so badly? Fine, let’s start from the beginning.”
Felwyn Sagestar stood chained to the flesh of the World Tree, his restraints grown from the ground beneath his feet. Across from him, the Galad Council regarded him with silent contempt.
Separating him from their gaze was Talia Asterborn, wielder of the Chronoscepter and enforcer of the Galad Council.
“Felwyn Sagestar, you stand accused of failing to stop the spread of the Rot. How do you plead?” she asked.
Felwyn’s gaze remained fixed on the ground beneath his feet.
“I am guilty of nothing, for there was no duty to fulfill.”
Talia gripped the staff of the Chronoscepter. An intricately carved piece, upon which sat the most treasured possession of the elves.
“It would be merciful to end your life here and now,” Talia said.
“Then let us be done with it. I have nothing more to say.”
Talia slammed the staff onto the surface of the World Tree below. Blue bolts of energy crackled across the sphere's surface at its peak.
“You know the power I wield?” she asked.
“Not power, a curse. It will lead our people to ruin.” Felwyn replied.
Talia shook her head. “You have done that already, Felwyn, but now you can redeem yourself. I suggest you take this chance.”
The sphere blossomed like a flower, unleashing an arc of pure energy that closed the distance between it and Felwyn in the blink of an eye. It struck the center of his forehead. His eyes burned a brilliant blue as his head fell back.
Felwyn found himself once again standing in the heart of the forest. He had lived this moment repeatedly in his head, but to be there again.
It was overwhelming. His cracked heart shattered once more at the sight of his everything, pinned against the heart of his people’s heritage, her body blasphemed by the wretched Rot.
“Felwyn, is that you, my love?” her words tumbled from her lips.
Felwyn closed the distance between them, kneeling at her side. Black tendrils weaved like ethereal worms in and out of her skin, leaving no trace of color behind. She was a living ghost.
“I am here, but how is this possible?” he asked.
“I tried to stop it, Felwyn. I tried to save everyone.”
Felwyn gripped her hands and felt a weak response as she struggled to hang on. Tears escaped from his tightly shut eyelids.
“I know you did. I’m here now,” he whispered.
“You must end this before it spreads into the heart of the World Tree. There’s not much time, my love, for I fear it has almost had its fill of me.”
Felwyn shook his head. “I cannot. I will not.” He stood up and threw his fists to the canopy above.
“Do you hear me? I will not satisfy your desire to see fate undone! The cost is far too great!” Felwyn shouted. A flash of light took Felwyn back from that moment and into the present.
He was almost happy to feel the taut grip of his restraints again. Even the sight of Talia’s clenched jaw brought him some measure of relief.
“Do you not understand what is at stake here? You would shatter our home, divide our people, and cast us into the maw of the Rot simply to spare yourself the guilt of ending her life?”
“I would. You can send me back to that moment with your cursed artifact as many times as you like, but I will not do it,” Felwyn said.
Talia nodded. “So be it.”
Talia made good on her promise. Felwyn lived that moment again and again. He went back so many times that he began to notice minuscule shifts in the threads of time.
Sometimes, his love was forlorn; other times, she begged him for mercy; other times, she even cursed him for her impending doom.
But Felwyn remained resolute in his decision. He would stay his blade. Every time. Eventually, he had lost count of how many times Talia had sent him back.
He returned to the present once more after yet another passage through time. His body was weak. He could barely stand on his shaking legs.
“This artifact takes a toll with every voyage, Felwyn! Can you not feel it eating away at your immortal soul?” Talia asked.
“Of course, I can feel it, but pain has lost all meaning.”
“You are a fool, Felwyn. No woman is worth this torture, this sacrifice, this madness!”
“She was,” he said.
Talia pressed the tip of the Chronoscepter against Felwyn’s head. The energy sparked against his skin. He felt its hunger. He knew this would be the last time.
Once more into that moment. Once more, he gazed into her eyes as the Rot devoured her flesh and her spirit in equal measure.
“It’s okay, my love. I know you resist, but it must be done.”
Felwyn snapped to the present. “What must be done?”
“I can see the demons that wage war behind your eyes. You struggle against an impossible task. I am telling you to cease your suffering.” she said.
“How is this possible? No, it’s a trick of that cursed artifact. I will not give in to their demands. I will not lose you.”
“My love, I am already lost.”
Felwyn sobbed at her side, crying into her open palm. His tears splashed against her skin and cascaded to the ground below.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Felwyn did as she asked. He looked into her eyes. The eyes of his world. The eyes that reflect his purpose, his desire, his entire being.
“What do you see?” she asked.
A cold numbness swept over him. The answer came swiftly.
“Nothing.”
“Now you see, broken warrior. She is no longer your love. Her soul has departed. She is but a puppet. My puppet,” she said.
Felwyn’s hand descended to the hilt of his blade.
“Leave her!” he shouted.
“Do you know why I need her body, elf?”
“I care not for your mind games!”
“I have lived this moment as many times as you have, perhaps more. My fate is always the same. My pesky brother, the World Tree, annihilates me—every time. If I could somehow travel to the future, my fate would no longer be sealed. I could catch him by surprise. Gain the upper hand! The bargain is simple: I want your body.”
“And then what?” Felwyn asked.
“Then, I will let you say goodbye, Elf.”
“Let us be done with it, then,” Felwyn said.
“Oh, goody! All these eons of running. Now I can finally come home.”
A gushing torrent of writhing black maggots poured from Felwyn’s love, burrowing their way into his body through his mouth, nose, and ears.
His limbs shook as his skin rippled with the horrific insects. His head fell forward as his love took a deep breath.
“Felwyn? Is that you?” she asked.
His eyes shot up to meet hers. “Yes! Yes, my love, it is I,” he said.
They embraced, holding each other like they would turn to dust any moment.
“My love, I—” Felwyn’s breath hitched in his lungs.
“What is it?”
Felwyn’s hands wrapped around her throat as an uncharacteristic grin crawled across his face.
“That utter fool! He thought he could bargain with entropy? That he could control chaos? He is, as you are, naught but vessels for my return!”
Felwyn, no longer in control, constricted her neck as she gasped for air. Her eyes bulged as she repeatedly beat her fists against his head and shoulders to no avail.
“I will not be undone by time, which has trapped me in this moment. This construct of your Titans cannot contain me! I will soon be free!” Felwyn shouted, his eyes growing wider.
The last of his love’s lifeforce faded from her eyes as they took on a glassy sheen. He dropped her, adjusting his hair calmly before a bright flash of light took him back to the present.
Felwyn was silent. His body was rigid. The Galad Council whispered amongst themselves as Talia grinned.
“We’re getting reports that the forest is healing. See Felwyn? That wasn’t so hard. Too bad you won’t live to see this prosperous new era for our people.”
The light emanating from the Chronoscepter turned from blue to a bright red. It hummed with energy as she approached, but Felwyn remained silent.
Talia raised the staff above her head, and the sphere bloomed once more.
Felwyn’s head fell back as a bright orb of white light shot out from his mouth. His body went limp. The orb flew into the metal sphere, changing its color back to blue as the metal petals closed.
“I’m sorry, Felwyn, but this is how it must be for our people to survive,” Talia said.
Felwyn stirred.
“What?” she asked.
Felwyn’s arms shot upward, shattering the wood restraints that had grown around his wrists. Talia stumbled backward.
“No, how is this possible?”
Felwyn raised his eyes. Talia gasped at the sight of black tendrils racing between his irises.
“You act above your station, elf! The power to change the past. To rewrite history. You were foolish to think you could wield it like any other weapon. You haven’t freed your people. You’ve merely brought them to me.”
Felwyn’s arms stretched out, and his skin tore open like fabric. A thick river of writhing insects, all black as night, poured out from within him.
They left nothing, not even bone, as they swarmed over the World Tree. Talia and the Galad council were naught but appetizers as The Rot swept like a noxious wave over the forest of Avondale, devouring all in its wake.
Finton’s chuckle filled the silence as he finished his tale. He poured another glass of wine and walked to a window overlooking the valley below. In the distance, a dead forest stood like a graveyard.
Gnarled branches and ashen ground were all that was left of Avondale, a place that once housed the elves of D’veen.
“Did you think something would change this time? No matter how many times you force yourself to relive it, you’ll never reach your precious World Tree.” Finton said.
Silence, but Finton chuckled.
“Keep trying, my friend. I do not envy your struggle, but I do find it admirable. Free of time, you have an eternity to change your fate. For what it’s worth, I hope you find the peace you’re looking for, wherever it may be.”
Finton laid the metal sphere back onto his mantle.
“Until next time, my friend.”
More Tales From D’veen
Thanks for Reading! Here’s Your Musical Pairing
Listen to this track after reading, much like you would pair a glass of wine with dinner.
DUDE! The voices were so sick, the atmosphere was so tangible and the story itself was beautifully constructed. Your voice for The Rot was incredible! I'm a huge fan of trickster fantasy characters, and you perfectly conveyed that in The Rot's voice. Superb!!!
I could FEEL the ambience here. Your writing is so beautifully immersive!!