"Ar, ya knave! What sorcery hath whisked ya from our midst for such an age?"
I had thought him long dead, his body decomposing beneath some tree, consumed by the Shadows. Yet, there he stood, hale and hearty, not a trace of inebriation—clearly, he had been consorting with some village harlot, as he was nowhere to be found in the city.
"Will you join me, or are you headed back to the city?" I stood ready beyond the city gates, yearning for the hunt's catharsis. "Hurry up, or I'm coming after you!"
His greed was boundless, he ran my direction and jumped on the carriage.
"Steer clear of the western woods; whispers abound of elfish kin skulking by the fringe." His words were likely bluster, but one could never be certain.
"Do elves even exist?" I mused aloud. "Have you ever ventured beyond our borders? Perhaps they thrive in the nearby kingdom, wondering the same, if people still exist, or if it's all mere legend to them…"
Dougal's raucous laughter at my back betrayed his disregard for my sarcasm.
"O ya simpleton, Ar! Keen of mind, yet bereft of wisdom, a true fool indeed!" he bellowed.
"And why is that?" I engaged him further, lest he broach a topic unbearable to endure.
"Ponder this — should a realm dwell yonder, their banners would have long since flown o'er our lands, seizing all we hold dear, and shackled us in servitude!"
"Why would they want these barren lands, filled with Shadows and worthless slaves like us?"
His laughter sobered into a contemplative silence followed. I hoped he grasped his own insignificance. Pathetic.
"Mayhap ya speak'st true. What sense would there be for the elvenkind to hex their own being and stir trouble at the Shadows' feast?"
For once, Dougal's thoughtful expression seemed out of place, yet he spoke a rare truth. Humans were but caged food, and no sane being would open our prison from without.
The Counselor, who perhaps was the last privy to these secrets, had met his end.
Galterd alone stood amongst the living, yet the grand tapestry of truth remained veiled to his eyes.
And there I was, the sole sentinel in this realm of seclusion, the final bearer of the legacy left in this land of confinement. But I was not an overseer; I was reborn and hidden, much like my Sword. Should its power be unleashed, even once, this realm would be overrun by creatures of legend—elves, fairies, witches, vampires… A humorous thought, or perhaps tragic, for I dwelled here aimlessly. All I had learned previously was moot, all I knew was superfluous, and all I needed for survival came effortlessly… so I just lived.
"Ar," Dougal jostled me again, this his habit growing tiresome. "Ar, entertain the thought — perchance it holds truth… Might there dwell spirits 'yond the Shadows, reserved for those of more ethereal guise… akin to the elusive elves of lore?"
"Enough! Silence yourself. We're nearing the forest…" I snapped.
He mimed obedience, hands over his mouth, lost in dreams of a better existence. But such dreams were not for him, for from the nearby trees, a hungry gaze was already fixed upon him. Shadow. His very Shadow.