The play was over, and Kadar stood motionless. His eyes were wide open as he stared at the jubilant elves. He had never been part of the humanity they mocked, but the sight still hurt him. The elves were singing and dancing and laughing - celebrating the death of an entire species.
His people. Or was it his people who were the ones to do the rejoicing? He wasn't sure.
The children were laughing. Their high voices repeated the chorus of the song over and over. The melody cut deeper and deeper into Kadar's mind like a knife.
"Do they hate me?" he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
He raised a hand as if to pull the hood from his head. What if he took it off now? If he revealed himself to them, would they look at him and see that he had grown up with them in this very forest?
Would they accept him?
Or was it something more fundamental, something inescapable? Was it his blood, his very existence, that they would hate? Did his own past matter at all?
His thoughts grew heavier, pressing down, burrowing through his mind like the roots of the Mothertree. His very existence was part of a tragedy so much greater than himself. He was but a shadow, a legacy of that long gone world.
Kadar closed his eyes. He was not of the House of Elves. But he did not belong to the House of Humans either. He floated between two worlds, both out of reach. Where did he belong? Was it his choice? Or was he doomed to be seen by every soul on the land as nothing more than an image of a past horror?
Would they cast him out, or even capture him?
Kill him?
A gentle pressure on his arm snapped him from his thoughts.
"Kadar..." Mayiawiel whispered softly.
She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.
"I am sorry... this is my fault," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kadar looked at her. Her face was sad, her eyes filled with regret. Perhaps she was sadder than he was.
He shook his head slowly.
"Do you hate me too, Mayia?"
"Never," she replied immediately, without a moment's hesitation.
Kadar nodded slightly. He had to stay calm. They didn't know him. Mayiawiel knew him. He could trust her.
"Let's move on. I'm sure you have something else to show me. Maybe something that has nothing to do with humans this time," he added with a wry smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Mayiawiel studied him, her gaze searching before a small smile played around her lips.
"You have a terrible sense of humour," she said softly, before nudging him gently.
"I'm sure you've always wanted to see the Mothertree."
She led him away from the scene of the play. Kadar took one last look over his shoulder. Other performers had now taken to the stage, and the crowd broke into a collective chant.
The elven song was mysterious and enchanting. But as clear as it was, it was something Kadar knew he would never be a part of. The harmony of those voices was a bond that did not welcome him, but excluded him.
Perhaps, he thought, if he could one day learn the elven magic, he could become part of that rhythm as well.
Mayiawiel led him deeper into the centre of the capital, and soon the dense canopy of leaves above them disappeared. After passing under the massive suspension bridges hanging everywhere between the last trees, a vast clearing appeared, as wide and open as the sky itself.
Kadar paused as his gaze fell on the tree in the centre of the clearing. The Mothertree.
It was the oldest and largest living thing Kadar had ever seen. Today the sky was clear and the tree stood proudly in all its majesty. Kadar thought that on cloudy days no one would be able to see the top. It was so huge. And so beautiful.
The trunk was of the purest of white, and it seemed to drink up and reflect the light of the sun, like a star right in the middle of the forest. The huge crown of leaves stretched across the clearing like a living green blanket, its branches forming protective arms that enveloped everything.
The wind made the leaves rustle softly. To Kadar, it was just a sound. To the elves, it was the song and source of their magic.
"It's incredible," he said at last, his voice full of awe.
Mayiawiel stood beside him, her gaze not on the tree but on Kadar.
"Yes," she whispered. "It is."
For a moment, they were both silent.
"Look," Mayiawiel said then, pointing to the space in front of the trunk of the Mothertree.
"They are preparing for the ceremony."
Kadar followed her gesture with his eyes and saw a large circle of elves standing before the majestic trunk of the tree. Their hands were clasped together and they moved back and forth in synchrony, as if they were leaves in the wind, carried by an invisible melody.
In the centre of the circle, a figure lay on an artfully arranged heap of leaves and branches, decorated with hundreds of flowers. The body of Archdruid Ivnel, surrounded by the sublime beauty of nature.
"What are they doing?" Kadar asked quietly.
Mayiawiel watched the spectacle with sparkling eyes, following the gentle movements of the circle. Her voice was full of admiration as she replied:
"The Mother Tree sings the Hymn of Return for Ivnel, and they form a circle around the Archdruid, absorbing the melody and offering their final thanks to him and to nature. As the hands join in the Dance of Return, the deepest connections are formed - with each other and with the Mother of all life."
Kadar watched the scene in silence. The synchronisation, the harmony. It was as if the air itself had become part of the movement, as if the Mothertree was concentrating the life of the elves in a single moment and giving it back.
A thought came to him. He was afraid to say it, but he couldn't ignore it. His eyes wandered to Mayiawiel. Her yellow eyes shone as she watched the dance, but she remained still. She restrained herself.
'Because of me.'
Mayiawiel was too kind.
"Shall we join them?" he asked at last.
Mayiawiel blinked in surprise, and a broad smile spread across her face - only to freeze in the next moment. She looked down in shame, her joy suddenly gone.
"You don't have to do this for my sake... After what happened earlier, I understand you might not want to-"
This time it was Kadar who took her hand. She squealed in surprise and stared at him. But his smile calmed her.
"We were going to enjoy the festival together, weren't we?" he said with a gentleness that made her light up.
She didn't say anything for a second, then exclaimed happily:
"Yes!"
Kadar's smile widened and he gently pulled her towards the circle. But the closer they got, the more Mayiawiel took the lead, her anticipation alone setting the pace.
Out of nowhere, the circle opened in front of them, as if inviting them to join the dance. Kadar's eyes flickered to Ivnel's motionless form. The Archdruid seemed much at peace under the Mothertree's shade, as if he were already a part of it.
Suddenly he felt Mayiawiel's fingers join his own. He looked at her. She seemed a little embarrassed, but nodded at the opening in the circle, as if to encourage him. Or herself.
Then she took the hand of the elf beside her. And immediately Kadar could see her whole being changing. It was as if she had connected with the others. She swayed gently to and fro, her movements synchronised with the circle. Her lips began to sing, but no sound came out.
Kadar waited. Waited for that feeling, that connection they all seemed to feel. It didn't come.
'Another failure,' he thought resignedly.
But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when a stranger's hand clasped his free one.
The voice was the most beautiful, soothing, impressive thing Kadar had ever heard.
It was singing. And he could hear it. The song of the elves.
Everything changed. His mind broke free from his body and spread out, first into the circle, then to the Mothertree and beyond, across the entire Fay'Run forest, until the farthest corners of the world.
Sensations, feelings, thoughts that were foreign washed over him like a flood. They sang in his ears, in his head, and their harmonies warmed his heart like a fire on a cold winter's day.
He almost staggered, but the voices - and Mayiawiel's firm grip - kept him upright.
'I can hear them!'
The realisation struck him like a bolt of lightning, followed by a wave of euphoria.
'I can finally hear them!'
But it was more than the singing. He could feel the forest. He felt the trees as they put down their roots for decades. The flowers waiting to unfold their beauty. The grass, gently waving in the wind.
He felt the elves. Their feelings and thoughts, surrounding him like a living cloak of light and sound.
He felt Mayiawiel. Her warmth. Their oppressive fear of failure. Her joy. Her burden. Her burning will and happiness. And... love. Recognition. Embarrassment.
He knew she felt him too. Her mind touched his, and the connection was overwhelming in its clarity. It was beautiful.
But all these emotions, all these impressions, all these new sensations lasted only a brief moment.
Just a second in his life.
And after that second it was all taken away from him.
"Human..." the voice sang in his head.
It was peaceful at first, but then it changed. The harmony broke and the sound became distorted, false, oppressive.
"Human...!"
Something pressed against his mind, like an invisible wall, hard and unyielding. A wall of rejection. An insurmountable chain that bound and shackled him.
"Be gone!" the voices sang in chorus now, cold and full of disgust.
Kadar opened his eyes wide. The grip of his hands loosened and he stumbled backwards, as if the invisible wall had physically struck him. He almost fell, his heart beating wildly, and for a moment he felt faint.
He stared at his hands. Sweat ran down his fingers and his breathing was heavy.
He lifted his eyes. The elf who had taken his free hand was a small boy - a child. The elven boy stared at him with wide, confused eyes, as if he did not understand what had just happened.
Kadar's head throbbed. The voices were still echoing in his head.
Away.
He had to get away.
Kadar quickened his pace and his surroundings blurred. The familiar voice of Mayiawiel desperately called his name. But he did not look back.
He ran. His breath came in gasps and the hood slipped from his head. He hastily pulled it back up, so hard that for a moment he feared it would rip from his robe.
What had just happened?
He was lying to himself.
He knew what had happened. It was the first time he had heard the song of the Mothertree. And it had been unmistakable.
He had been rejected. Cast out. Forever.
He didn't belong.
He had known that for a long time... but this time it was final. It was as if something inside him had given way, something he had always held on to, even though he knew it was fragile.
Now it was broken.
With quick steps he left the main square and pushed through the crowd until he found a quiet alley. He leaned against the rough wooden wall of a house and lowered himself slowly until he was sitting on the grass.
In the distance he could still hear the music of the elves. Their music. Not his.
He let his head fall against the wall behind him and closed his eyes.
'Ah, damn it.'
His laughter was hollow and meaningless. It slowly died away in the darkness of the alley.
And in that moment of realisation, he saw the elf who had tried to make him one of them all these years. Who had brought him to the forest in the first place.
At the edge of the main square, in a narrow alley, stood Elanor. His father.
Kadar held his breath. The older elf seemed calm, almost unconcerned, but there was something different about his bearing.
For a moment, Kadar wanted to run to him.
He wanted to apologise. To say that he was sorry for leaving like that. To say that Elanor was right. That he had found nothing here.
He wanted to throw himself into his father's arms and tell him everything - the pain, the rejection, the song that had cast him out. He wanted to ask him to come home with him. To the quiet corner of the forest where no one would disturb him. Where there was only Elanor, Mayiawiel and his workbench.
But he didn't.
For Elanor was not alone.
Kadar paused as his eyes fell on the two figures talking to his father. They were not elves.
One was small, with dark purple skin that glistened like a layer of oil in the light of the mother tree. Horns protruded from its head, and its black eyes glinted dangerously.
The other was pale, almost transparent, with a presence that made Kadar's blood run cold. Its eyes were red, its body straight as a cube, almost as tall as Elanor himself.
A demon. And a vampire.