The Last of Her Kind
D'veen Prelude Two
Welcome to the second of six D’veen Preludes that will set the stage for an upcoming series set in the realm! Click here to read the first prelude, and discover more about the upcoming series at the end…
Sarai Rashan was already waiting at Finton’s kitchen table when he returned from his midday walk. Finton didn’t notice her when he walked in, instead walking right by her to grab a pair of mugs from his cupboard.
“You’re eyes aren’t what they used to be, Finton,” Sarai said.
Finton cried out as he dropped one of the mugs. The ceramic shattered across the floor of his kitchen.
He spun around and sighed heavily as he saw Sarai grinning at his table.
“You couldn’t have revealed yourself sooner? I really liked that mug!” Finton cried.
Sarai shrugged. “If you want to lead this little order of yours, you’re going to need your wits about you my friend.”
Finton huffed as he picked up the shards of his broken mug. “I still fail to see how the mug needed to be broken to prove your point.”
“Why don’t we skip the tea and you can tell me about your next recruit?” Sarai asked.
Finton feigned shock as he pulled another ceramic mug out from one of his cupboards.
“Skip the tea? My dear, are you ill?” Finton asked.
“I just need to get back to Kenny and Knowlyn. I’ve never left them alone this long.”
Finton sighed and set down the empty mugs. “Very well, I suppose we can get started.”
Finton took a seat at the opposite side of the table and rifled through the stack of parchment that had been sitting there since Sarai’s last visit. He pulled out a single sheet and dramatically spun it around.
Sarai couldn’t mask the shock on her face when she saw the portrait. “That’s…not possible,” she whispered.
“Oh, but I assure you it is. I’ve seen her with my own eyes.”
Sarai took the parchment and stared at it intently for some time. She set it down and let out the breath she had been holding in her lungs.
“Tell me everything.”
Finton rapped the table with his knuckles as he leaned back in his chair.
“That’s the plan, darling!”
Melissari Laganion tossed and turned in her bed at the Happy Hollow Inn, a small establishment just off the main road between Giant’s Bane and the Titanum Forest.
The bed was modest, but comfortable enough. She had fallen asleep easily, but her dreams kept her from enjoying any substantial rest.
As she tossed and turned, Melissari was forced yet again to relive the night the Rot devoured her entire home and all of her people. She heard the screams of the Elven people echoing through her mind as she recalled her mad dash to the forest’s edge.
She could still feel the corrupted vines and branches of the forest nipping at her heels like savage dogs. She remembered the faces of those who had been taken by the Rot. The way they smiled at her from the shadows with their hollow eyes as if to say you’re next.
The only reason Melissari had managed to get a head start was because of a warning sent to her by the World Tree. She felt it cry out when the Rot unleashed itself upon the forest of Avondale. It shouted only one word in her mind:
RUN!
Her connection to the World Tree had always been strong, so when she felt its fear, she grabbed her bow, her quiver, and her lucky knife before fleeing from the place she had always called home.
Melissari’s nightmare about that night always ended the same way. She reached the edge of the forest, ready to emerge onto the grass-filled plains of the Valley of Skar, only for hundreds of hands to emerge from the trees around her.
The hands were blacker than night, with jagged nails that clawed at her skin. Voices screamed her name as they pulled her back into that forest of entropy and decay.
Once again, during the final moment, the nightmare abruptly ended, and Melissari jolted upright in her bed at the inn.
She was drenched in sweat from head-to-toe. Her hands shook as she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. She took a sip and stood up, walking over to the window on the opposite side of the small room.
She looked out into the moonlit night and gazed up at the shattered moon in the sky.
She closed her eyes and searched her mind for the World Tree. It was getting harder and harder to feel her connection to it since the fall of Avondale.
She often found herself trying to just detect even the faintest hint of its voice. If only to remind herself that it was still there, holding the Rot at bay so it could not devour the whole of D’veen.
“Well, isn’t this interesting? They told me all the elves in D’veen were dead!” a voice whispered.
Melissari spun around, reaching for the knife she always kept on her person. She spotted a dark silhouette across the room.
The figure was drenched in shadow, but as they approached, Melissari smelled all manner of death and decay wafting from them.
The smell of Rot.
“Identify yourself now, or I end you!” Melissari shouted.
The figure stepped forward. Melissari recoiled as she looked upon his visage. His skin was pale, gray, and littered with open sores.
Maggots writhed within the rotted parts of his flesh. His hair was brittle and patchy. He looked as if he had been dead for some time.
“What are you?”
The rotting man frowned. “What’s the matter little elf? Don’t recognize me? Here, maybe this will jog your memory!”
The man’s jaw fell open, revealing yellowed teeth filled with holes. From within his throat, the sound of a thousand screaming elves rattled through the air. Melissari froze as her mind was sent reeling back to that fateful night.
She shook her head. “No, this isn’t possible! You cannot escape! The World Tree has kept you prisoner in Avondale since the fall!”
The man nodded as he wiped drool from his swollen lips. “The World Tree’s roots grow deep, and the embrace of its branches is vast, but entropy always finds a way. A fragment here, a seed there.”
Melissari spun her lucky knife around in her hand, pointing the blade at the rotting man in front of her.
His grotesque smile widened as she leapt forward. The blade danced in the moonlight as it cut across flesh and collided with bone.
All the while, the man laughed. His haunting cackles echoed through the room as Melissari dismantled his body, piece by piece.
No living thing would have remained standing after her onslaught, but even as she cut the rotting man’s head from his body, he still howled with laughter.
“Beautiful!” the decapitated head shouted. “Simply stunning! We love the carnage!”
Melissari dropped the talking head onto the ground. With a swift kick, she sent it flying into the door of her room.
The rotting flesh shattered like glass, raining gore down onto the ground below.
The smell was overpowering. She covered her mouth and nose as she grabbed her things and ran out of the room.
As she stepped out into the hall, she heard sounds of a struggle downstairs in the common room of the inn.
Melissari holstered her lucky knife and an arrow from her quiver. She placed it into her bow as she approached the staircase.
As she turned the corner, another wave of putrid stench wafted up the stairs.
She cursed under her breath as she took the steps down to the main floor. She spotted two people in the common area. They looked to be the nice halfling couple who owned the inn.
The two halflings turned toward her as she descended. Their eyes were empty pools of endless night. Black sludge dripped out from the corners of their lips, and maggots writhed in their nostrils.
Melissari fired off an arrow into the halfling woman as a wet screech escaped her peeling lips. The arrow hit true in the center of her head. She stumbled backward, but quickly regained her balance.
“Damn, they’re hard to kill!” Melissari shouted, readying another arrow. Her eyes wandered to the exit.
The door was open, but the two halflings were blocking the way. They rushed toward the stairs as Melissari let out a volley of three more arrows in quick succession.
The arrows landed in the halfling’s bodies with a sickening thud, but did little to slow them down.
Melissari charged forward with her shoulder low. She barreled through the two halflings and spun back around as she reached the door.
Her eyes shot over to the lantern hanging by the desk where the couple had greeted her just hours earlier.
Melissari readied an arrow and fired it toward the flickering flame. The glass shattered, sending the oil within across the surface of the wooden desk.
The flames spread eagerly across the surface. Melissari opened the door to the inn and rushed out into the cold night air.
She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it as smoke poured out from the gaps in the doorway.
The halflings inside pounded against the door, screeching like monsters. Melissari held her ground as the flames continued to spread behind her.
She paused as the high-pitched screeching of the halflings suddenly ceased. They even stopped pounding on the door behind her. Melissari wondered if the flames had taken them already.
“Help! Please, we’re not sick anymore!” one of the halflings shouted.
“Yes, the Rot has left us! Please, don’t let us burn in here!” the other halfling screamed.
Melissari hesitated. She was unsure of how the Rot functioned. For all she knew, it could leave a host at will.
“Open the door! The flames are nearly upon us!”
Melissari shut her eyes and held fast against the door. She was convinced it was a trap.
“NO! PLEASE! DON’T LET US BURN!”
Melissari fought back tears as the halflings resumed their desperate attempts to escape. Her muscles ached as she held the door shut with all her might.
Their screams were real, their pain was real, but the Rot was real as well. She couldn’t risk it getting out.
Eventually, their protests ceased. Thick clouds of smoke were pouring out from within the blazing inn. Melissari coughed as she retreated toward the main road.
When she was far enough away, she looked back to see the destruction behind her.
Hours earlier, the building had been a quaint little inn. Now, it was engulfed in flames that sent embers spiraling into the night sky.
Melissari lowered her head. “I hope I did the right thing,” she whispered.
She heard footsteps to her right. Without hesitating, she brandished her knife and leapt toward the sound.
A well-dressed man with a pinstripe tunic and leather greaves appeared out of the shadows. He held a polished lute in one hand, raising it into the air as he approached with a warm smile on his face.
“I mean you no harm! I simply came to see what all the commotion was about,” he said, turning toward the flames. “What happened here? Did you not like the service at the inn?”
He chuckled at his own joke, but Melissari didn’t find it funny.
“Are you not surprised to see an elf?” she asked.
The bard shook his head. “I always knew the Rot couldn’t kill off all the elves. Your people are too resilient to be done in by such a foe.”
There was something odd about the bard that Melissari couldn’t quite place, and it wasn’t just the fact that he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
“What is your name, Bard?” she asked.
The bard slid the lute over his back and bowed deeply with a flourish of his wrist.
“I am Finton Merrybrook! The greatest storyteller in all of D’veen!” he said.
“Then how come I’ve never heard of you?” Melissari asked.
Finton looked hurt for a moment, but brushed it off. “Not surprising. My tales are quite exclusive, but that is not why I am here!”
Finton reached into the leather bag at his side and pulled out a scroll.
“Truth be told, I was not surprised to see you because I’ve been following you for some time now,” he said.
Melissari felt the sting of suspicion welling up in her gut. She gripped the hilt of her lucky knife tighter.
“Your explanation had better satisfy me, Bard, or I will cut you down where you stand.”
Finton slowly leaned forward, extending the scroll in his hand. “This contract explains everything!”
Melissari holstered her blade and took the scroll. She opened it and began reading the text written within it. It seemed to be an offer of employment.
Her eyes bulged at the sight of the promised coin. It seemed almost too good to be true.
“You wish to…recruit me?” she asked.
Finton nodded and clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! I am gathering together a band of righteous adventurers for a mission of utmost importance!”
Melissari continued reading the contract. She paused at the line describing the group.
“The Order of the Pawn?” she asked.
Finton nodded again. “Yes! I realize the name and description are somewhat confusing. I promise all will become clear in time.”
Melissari rolled the contract back up and held it back out to Finton. “A tempting offer, but I have more pressing matters to attend to,” she said.
Finton refused to take it back. “Indeed! You just had a run-in with the Rot, did you not?” Finton asked.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m forming this little order to handle such threats to the realm. Our goals are aligned, my friend. In fact, I can tell you where the Rot is going next,” Finton said with a wry grin.
“Where? I must find it!” Melissari shouted.
“Before I divulge that information, I need to know that you’ll be joining our cause. A few drops of blood should do the trick,” Finton said, gesturing to the scroll in Melissari’s hand.
She sighed, unfurling the scroll and using her knife to make a small cut on the tip of her thumb. As blood pooled on her skin, she pressed it against the bottom of the contract, staining the designated space for a signature at the bottom with her own lifeforce.
She rolled up the parchment and handed it back to the bard. “There, I’m part of your little club. Now, where is the Rot headed?”
Finton took the scroll with a smile. “Well, we’re an Order, not a club per se.”
“I need a location, Bard!”
Finton laughed nervously. “Yes, of course! You’ll find that the Rot has sent one of its seeds to Titanum Forest. For your first mission as a member of the Order, I task you with heading there to conduct reconnaissance!”
Melissari rolled her eyes. “Very well. I will depart immediately.”
Finton nodded. “Very good! This is going splendidly so far!”
An awkward silence descended upon them.
“Are you going to be alright by yourself? These roads are not safe at night for the likes of men and bards,” Melissari said.
Finton smiled and dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “You are correct that I am a bard, Melissari, but you would do well to remember that I am no man.”
Melissari was intrigued, but she didn’t wish to show it. “You appear to be a man. If you’re not human, then what are you?” she asked.
Finton’s eyes wandered across the sky as he shrugged playfully. “A secret and a story for another time, I’m afraid. Suffice to say, I will be fine. You can go ahead.”
Melissari holstered her knife, took one last look at the smouldering ashes of the inn, and set out toward Titanum Forest.
She didn’t know what to think of the strange bard and the contract she just signed, but those things could wait.
All that mattered now was finding the Rot and taking vengeance for her people.
Melissari Will Return…
Stay tuned for more news on The Order of the Pawn, a new series set in the realm of D’veen, coming soon…
Thanks for Reading! Here’s Your Musical Pairing
Listen to this after reading. Like pairing a glass of wine with dinner.
Oh my GOSH
This was phenomenal!
The sound effects, the musical pairing, the introduction of my favorite little forest 🥰
I know I say this every time, but this is my FAVORITE D'Veen tale!
Ohh the rot is going to give me nightmares. 🫣