"Yes," Alsike replied with a casual shrug. "But most prefer to keep to themselves, except for the demons and vampires, perhaps."
"I met the demon ascendant," Freya said, her voice quiet.
Alsike's eyes widened in surprise. "Already?"
Freya nodded. "Well, it wasn't exactly a formal meeting. He… came into my dreams."
Alsike let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in amusement. "Those deceptive demons," she said, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. "What did he look like?" She then asked curiously.
Freya considered her response, recalling the encounter with vivid clarity. "He was handsome, but in a different way."
Alsike raised an intrigued brow. "How so?"
Freya smiled thoughtfully, leaning back as her mind lingered on the memories. "Well, Roarke is more... exotic. There's something fiery and a little feral about him. He needs some taming. Garr, the Alpha... there's a roughness to him, an edge, like a storm about to break, though he's been more of a silent storm so far." She paused, her expression intensifying as she thought of the demon. "But Kael… Kael felt like calm waters—smooth and deliberate, drawing you in with an hypnotic allure."
Alsike's smile grew as Freya finished. "Sounds just like a demon, and might I warn you," she added, "vampires and dark fae can have similar effects, so be careful." Her tone was playful, but there was a note of seriousness beneath it.
Freya nodded, appreciating the advice. "I'll keep that in mind."
Alsike's expression shifted, curiosity glinting in her eyes as she leaned forward. "So, who did you enjoy meeting the most?"
Freya laughed softly. "Garr and Kael weren't bad but Roarke... well, he'll need some work, but I'm up for the challenge." Her smile faded as she grew more contemplative. "But I wonder why Roarke is so harsh when the Dragons have won the past five rites. Shouldn't he be more relaxed?"
Alsike considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I think it's because of those wins that he feels more pressure. Five consecutive victories by dragons—it wouldn't look good for him if he were the one to break that streak."
Freya blinked, realizing the truth of Alsike's words. "I hadn't thought of that. It might explain why he seems so tense."
Alsike smiled knowingly. "Exactly. He's got a lot riding on this. Everyone expects the Dragons to keep winning, and if Roarke falls short..." She left the rest unsaid, but the implication was clear.
It made sense, and it certainly explained Roarke's sharp demeanor. "I suppose that makes it a bit easier to understand him."
Alsike stood up then, stretching her arms, "Well, since you've already met three candidates, maybe you should take a break. Do something for yourself. Relax."
"What could I do?" Freya shrugged.
Alsike grinned, giving her a playful look. "What do you mean, what could you do? You're in a new world, Freya! Aren't you even a little curious about exploring?"
Freya smiled sheepishly. "Of course I am, but there isn't really much I can discover on my own. Maybe you could take me places."
Alsike's face brightened at the suggestion. Freya had half expected her to be too busy, but instead, she seemed delighted by the idea. "Take you places? Introduce you to people?" Alsike repeated, her voice laced with excitement. "Now, that's a wonderful idea! If you're going to settle here, you need to make friends."
Freya beamed. "Oh, Alsike, you're very sweet."
They quickly made plans to leave, and Freya was eager to step out into this new world with Alsike as her guide. But as soon as she stepped outside, Freya was met by Alvar and Ivan, reminded that she couldn't really roam around freely.
They followed her outside, where Alsike was waiting, having changed from her servant clothes, to a more striking attire. She wore an elegant emerald sleeveless dress, its shimmering fabric adorned with intricate golden embroidery that matched the gleam in her golden hair and green eyes. Her long hair, now free from its usual restraint, flowed in soft waves, adorned with delicate golden pins that added to her ethereal beauty. She smiled warmly upon seeing Freya but quickly glanced between Alvar and Ivan, standing dutifully behind her, an inquisitive look crossing her face.
"Do they have to come with us?" Alsike asked.
Freya hesitated, feeling a sudden weight of indecision. Having them constantly around could dampen the sense of freedom, but she was still unfamiliar with the dangers that might lurk around in this world. Could she really take the risk?
"Yes," she finally replied.
Alsike took a deep breath, her eyes lingering on the dragons once more before she forced a smile. "Alright." She shrugged it off, though Freya could sense the shift in the mood. Alsike shot one last glance at Alvar and Ivan before descending the stairs with a touch of resignation.
As Freya followed her, she couldn't help but wonder if Alvar and Ivan were bachelors? Wouldn't Alsike be interested then since she fancied dragons? Maybe they weren't.
"Where are we going?" Freya asked, trying to shift her focus.
"To my world," Alsike said with a touch of pride. "You'll get to see all types of elves—fae, drow, frost, wood elves, and more. Our world has more variety than most imagine."
Freya's curiosity piqued. "And your ascendant, what type is he?"
Alsike glanced at her with a small smile. "Oh, right. He's a dark fae."
"Dark fae?"
Alsike chuckled, "Yes. We have dark elves, the drow, the dark fae, they are all dwellers of the dark world of the elves, known for being cunning and, at times, cruel. Many dabble in dark magic."
Freya felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "That doesn't sound... comforting. How come your ascendant is a dark fae then? Do people accept him?"
Alsike shrugged. "Power is about who seizes it. The dark fae, with their cunning, have held onto it. Not all of them are bad, though. Some have been fair rulers."
"And what kind of ruler is the ascendant?"
"Well, he is new to the rule. The king, his brother, fell ill, so he took over recently. He was known as the dark prince before that so some people are worried that he has become king. They believe he won't be as good as his brother. Some even say he might have caused his brother's illness to take the throne."
Freya frowned. "I see," she said as they reached a waiting carriage. The coachman stepped down to assist them onto the carriage and Alsike told him their destination. Freya glanced over at Alvar and Ivan wondering how they intended to follow her but as the carriage rolled, they shifted and flew above.
Alsike proceeded to tell her a little about the elven world, the culture, the people, the lands. It sounded fascinating that Freya became eager to see it with her own eyes and soon she would come to see it.
The carriage crested a hill, and suddenly the dense forest opened into a valley of radiant green. A vast expanse of shimmering meadows spread out below, dappled in sunlight that filtered through the leaves of towering trees. The landscape was unlike anything Freya had ever seen—lush, vibrant, and full of life.
Rolling hills carpeted in emerald grass seemed to stretch on forever, dotted with flowering trees whose blossoms floated lazily on the breeze like delicate whispers of color.
Ahead, snowy mountains loomed in the distance, their snow-capped summits glistening in the sunlight, casting long shadows over the land, and the cool breeze from the mountains mingled with the warmth of the sun, creating a perfect balance.
As they descended into the valley, Freya could see elves walking gracefully along winding paths, tall, with elongated features, their ears tapering elegantly into fine points. Their skin ranged from sun-kissed golds to pale, alabaster hues, with hair flowing in shades of silver, copper, honey and golden. Their eyes gleamed with otherworldly light—emerald, sapphire, amethyst, and amber—glowing softly in the midday sun.
Their clothing was as mesmerizing as the land they inhabited, crafted from silks and fine fabrics that shimmered like the surface of a tranquil lake. Flowing robes and tunics, embroidered with intricate patterns of leaves and vines, fluttered as they moved, while some elves wore woven armor that looked both delicate and impenetrable, forged from materials that seemed to hum with magic. It was clear that their connection to nature influenced their fashion as well.
As the carriage moved further, they reached a bustling hub where the paths widened into cobblestone streets. The air was rich with the scent of fresh herbs and fruit, and Freya could hear the lively sounds of a market in full swing. "We're here," Alsike said as the carriage came to a halt.
The coachman stepped down and helped them out, his weathered hands steadying Freya as her feet touched the cobbled ground. Alsike paid him, then they stepped into the heart of the marketplace.
Freya's eyes widened in awe as she took in her surroundings. Stalls filled with all manner of goods lined the streets—jewelry made of crystal and moonstone, exotic fruits that shimmered like jewels, and finely crafted weapons that seemed too beautiful to be used in battle. The elves moved through the market gracefully, engaging with merchants in quiet, melodic voices, their laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes.
Everything felt serene, peaceful, like the market was a living extension of the tranquil beauty of the elven world. But amidst the warmth and harmony, Freya's gaze caught on something different. A few figures stood out from the rest—elves with cold, greyish skin, their hair silver and white like freshly fallen snow. Their presence cast a shadow around them, a faint but undeniable sense of detachment from the vibrant life of the market.
Alsike noticed Freya staring. "Those are the dark elves," she said quietly.
Freya nodded, watching as the dark elves moved through the crowd with an eerie grace of their own. They seemed out of place here, and why were there only a few?
"They mostly live in the snowy lands ahead," Alsike explained, nodding toward the distant mountains. "Only a few venture into the warmer parts of the world."
"Oh," Freya said.
"So... what do you want to buy?" Alsike asked, turning back to the market.
Freya was about to respond when a low, distant rumble broke through the gentle hum of the marketplace. At first, it was barely audible, a soft growl on the horizon, but it quickly grew louder, vibrating through the air, until the very ground beneath her feet seemed to tremble.
Her heart lurched in her chest. Confusion and a creeping sense of dread washed over her as she looked at Alsike, whose face had gone still, her gaze fixed upward in alarm. Freya followed her line of sight, and her stomach dropped—up ahead, the snow on the distant mountains was breaking apart, tumbling down in massive, unstoppable waves. The ground beneath them shook violently, causing stalls to sway and goods to topple over.
The marketplace erupted into chaos. People began to scream, merchants abandoned their goods, and shoppers ran, pushing and shoving as they tried to escape the impending avalanche. Alsike's eyes widened, and she swiveled around, grabbing Freya's hand.
"Run!" Alsike shouted, pulling her into the fleeing crowd.
Freya stumbled forward, barely keeping pace as Alsike dragged her through the throng of bodies. The world around them was a blur of panicked voices and the thunderous rumble of snow crashing down the mountainside. People shoved past them, desperate to escape, and Freya could feel herself losing balance. She clung to Alsike's hand, her grip slipping in the crush of bodies.
"Where are your dragons?" Alsike yelled over the din, her voice sharp with urgency.
Freya wanted to look up, to call for Alvar and Ivan, but the crowd pressed in on her, their panic like a wave crashing against her body. Her heart pounded in her chest, the ground beneath her shaking harder, sending people sprawling. She could hear the roar of the avalanche getting closer when suddenly, someone collided with her from behind, a heavy body crashing into her back, and Freya's grip on Alsike's hand slipped.
She stumbled and she fell, her body hitting the hard cobblestone ground. She tried to reach out, to call to Alsike or Alvar, but before she could regain her footing, more people stumbled and fell over her.
An elbow slammed into her face, pain exploding through her nose as she felt a sharp crack. Her vision blurred, and the taste of blood filled her mouth. She gasped, trying to suck in air, but another knee jabbed into her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. Freya cried out in pain, her voice lost in the sea of chaos, as more bodies pushed against her, pinning her to the ground.
Panic clawed at her chest as she struggled to get up, fear surging through her veins. She could feel the weight of people pressing down on her, and the distant thunder of the avalanche growing louder, closer.
Then she felt a strong wind and and a large shadow. One of the dragons had come to her rescue, his wings slapping people away to find her, but the chill did not only come from his wings. The snow was now rushing down, a few large pieces already rolling past her.
Oh well, she thought grimly through the pain, her vision still hazy. This is turning out to be quite the disaster.