Young Writers Society

Thousands of years ago, the existence of Telya was threatened by the Slyrinik, a horde of evil creatures led by Gaurem, the Dark Lord of the Otherworld, a realm guarded by the most potent magic where all powerful creatures of darkness are supposed to be banished. However, they managed to gather enough strength to break the bonds of their prison and gathered themselves in an army at the Border of Telya, the very edge of the world.

Their attack on Telya was stopped by a long, hard-won battle with the Fellowship, a coalition of seven people from different Telyan races. Their deeds were told through the generations, long after they had all passed on. It was said that these heroes promised that if there were ever such a danger to threaten Telya again, they would return to save their land.

(With that being said, here is the "abridged" story that wandering minstrels tell about the Fellowship:)

None of the Fellowship remains living on Telya. Now some even believe that the story is merely a romantic legend of good triumphing over evil.

However, strange things have been occurring in the past years. To all of Telya's horror and dismay, the Otherworld has been breached. A group calling themselves the Slyrinik are waging war on the world to destroy it and for their "last loss". They are led by Gaurem.

The legend was true all along.

Now, the High Council of the races has declared that the heroes of old must be found. Because all the members of the original Fellowship are dead, they believe that their spirits are living on in their descendants. They search the corners of their world to find the seven who match the tale's descriptions of the original heroes as close as possible in order to form the New Fellowship, which the High Council hopes will be able to defeat the Slyrinik and Gaurem.

The Council has succeeded in finding seven warriors. Though some of the new seven feel prepared to take on the challenge and the legacy, others believe they shouldn't be forced to step into the role of their ancestors as they are not the heroes from the past reborn. At the same time, relations between the races have not been the smoothest. Regardless, it seems that these seven have been pushed together and expected to be Telya's hope against the enemies. Will they be able to push aside their differences and reservations, fight their way to the Border of Telya, and defeat the Slyrinik together?


Heir to Királin: Ésmaril Jumara
- Female
- Silver Elf (Agmar)
- Archer
- Wields Királin's bow
Reserved by: @Lael

Heir to Panér: Kiirion Ayair Faelar
- Male
- Green Elf (Hryndari)
- Healer
- Has a healing touch
Reserved by: @soundofmind

Heir to Taron: Melvix Antavex
- Male
- Human (Rannian)
- Warrior and a Prince of Ranning
- Wields a sword
Reserved by: @Lightsong

Heir to Eirawen: Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree
- Female
- Human (Andarati)
- Shieldmaiden
- Wields a sword and shield
- Owns a warhorse
Reserved by: @Sheyren

Heir to Laramór: Sagaree Poashend
- Male
- Human (Saemarrim)
- Wizard
- Wields a magical staff
Reserved by: @MJTucker

Heir to Chilo: Thorik Von Holstheim
- Male
- Dwarf (Pyradian)
- Warrior and smith
- Wields an axe
Reserved by: @TheForgottenKing

Heir to Narowa: Savitri Hediya
- Female
- Wolf (Aro)
- Queen of Aro
- Seems to have a golden stripe on her fur.
Reserved by: @Wolfical


Here is the CP template. Please delete all parentheses when you're done.

More information about the races and individual kingdoms, tribes, etc., will be in the DT. Keep those in mind when you make your characters, please.

Link to WFP: https://lael.writerfeedpad.com/7

They marched. Row after row, they moved like a sea of ants towards the large, shimmering tear leading to beyond their world. Beyond the Otherworld, and into Telya.

Into the land of the savages, the enemy.

From above, he watched his army of orcs, goblins, and other creatures of darkness, armed with their wicked weapons, pouring forward. They may have been despised by the creatures of the Light Realm, but they were strong, and willing to fight for the ultimate cause.

He felt a stirring within him, a thirst for destruction. He would have felt a rapid, angry thrum within him had he a heart. But there was nothing of the sort within his existence.

In his long lifetime, he had experienced many things. In the beginning, when he came into his own, he had succeeded in usurping the weak creatures of light. He had reigned supreme in the realms of Dark and Light. Other, inferior creatures had lived and died in less than a blink of an eye under his long rule.

But then . . . The cold, angry feeling within him writhed. They had come.

The Seven. In his mind's Eye, he could still see that battle of so long ago. A burning howl piercing the air, the flash of a mighty sword and axe, a war horse's hooves pounding into his soldiers' bodies. Three arrows sailing straight and true, a pair of hands which renewed the strength of the other enemies. And a wretched staff, raised high, wielding a blinding light from the hateful sky. Abhorrent chants, the spilling of blood . . .

He hissed. The Telyan traitors should be long dead by now. They were of no significance. But now, there was a new chance. The bonds of the Otherworld were broken, at last. The Slyrinik would have revenge . . . on every living descendant of the Seven.

Gaurem descended and crossed the threshold, from blessed darkness into cursed light.

◄ Kiirion Ayair Faelar ►

"I have faith in you Kii," Aenwyn spoke gently as she walked up beside him, and kissed him on his cheek affectionately.

"You say that because you're my mother." Kiirion responded as if annoyed, but a soft grin grew on his face, making for a gentle expression.

"That's why I ought to." She replied, putting a hand on his arm.

Kiirion's grin faded, and he looked away from her with downcast eyes. He was packing for the journey to Ranning, where he would meet the other descendants of the seven, and he had an abundance of mixed feelings, though he knew with his mother, he couldn't discuss them. He knew from her proud expression and her language that she didn't just have faith in him to do it, she expected him to do it, without question. Of course, she saw no problem with it and he never expressed his dislike of the responsibility placed upon him just because of his heritage, so there was no reason for her to expect that her actions only added to the underlying bitterness.

"Thank you, mother." He replied with a warm smile, his white teeth glowing in contrast to his tan skin, and gave her an over-the-shoulder hug.

"For something such as this, there is no other healer out there more worthy than you." She continued, mirroring the smile. "I always knew you would be the one to continue to bring honor to the Faelar name."

"Not that it needed much more in the first place," Kiirion replied with a grin and laughing eyes, but he meant it.

"Nonetheless, I'm very proud of you, Kii." She said with another smile and a nod of her head. "I'll leave you to finish packing." She patted Kiirion's arm before leaving the room, her dress flowing behind her as she walked.

Kiirion watched as she left with a solemn expression, his gaze falling to the floor once she left. No matter how genuine his mother's words appeared to be or even might have been, he always felt that nagging feeling that she was... using him. Their family had never had much influence until his ability was discovered, and as soon as it was, his mother seemed to grab a hold of it and advertised it to the world. What she was doing now in promoting this wasn't far off from being a simple extension of that.

Of course... he loved her. She was his mother, after all. But it did make for an easier goodbye. He was, as much as it sounded horrible to admit, eager to get far from her reach.



Kiirion rode on the back of his horse out of the Hryndar forest to make the long journey into the rolling hills of Ranning. The landscape passed slowly, transitioning from the familiar tall, towering trees with the sun-rays peeking through the branches above, to the flatter plains. The trees seemed to get gradually shorter the further out he travelled, and though the land before him was new and foreign to him, and beautiful in the light of the clear sky, he gave it little appreciation and attention.

He was thinking further ahead - consumed with weighty concerns about the journey that would be ahead of him, and the people who he'd be working with. He knew nothing of the other descendants of the seven, and he was not so naive as to expect that they would achieve the same unity of a group dynamic as their ancestors. Just because fate brought them together did not mean that it would feel like it was 'meant to be.' That he was firmly assured of.

And with the surprisingly very real threat of legend, emerging seemingly so sudden, he held his suspicions. He didn't doubt that the threat was very real and present, otherwise he wouldn't have been called to go to Ranning, but... he didn't know who to trust. He would be watching closely the actions of others, and listening closely to their speech. Though his role in the fellowship would be one of support, he determined in his heart not to let anything slip past him.

This is life or death. For us all.



As he entered into the kingdom of Ranning he observed the laypeople running about, completing their daily tasks in an endless monotonous loop of repetition. Humans were to him, always peculiar companions. They were passionate and hardy, and achieved much in their short lifespan. The average human though, wasn't much different from the average elf in comparison. Not all beings were called to be the greats - those ones whose names were written in books, carved in stones, and remembered for the ages. He wondered... if that would be his fate. What would be the fate of their world?

We shall have to see, after this decisive meeting. Maybe even this meeting, would be one written in history.But - he didn't really care much for such grandiose aspirations as he was overwhelmed by the sheer intensity and greatness of the task before them.

As he rode up to the grand castle at which the High Council and the New Fellowship would be gathering, he took one last moment to refocus. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and hopped off of his horse. At the door servants came to take his horse and welcome him into the castle. Just as he'd planned, he had arrived first. As he walked through the large double doors, he took note of the low doorways. Though he didn't have to duck yet, he was sure not all of the doors would suit his height. It was a castle built by humans after all.

As he entered the hall in which they were meeting, he saw the room was already full of the High Council members.

"Kiirion Ayair Faelar of Hyrndar has arrived." A page announced to the room, before departing.

As he looked about the room, Jhaeros Balfir and Nei Herbella of Hyrndar were the most familiar faces of the sixteen, though he didn't favor their presence. Nei rose from her seat and waved Kiirion over.

"It's a pleasure to see you as always, Kiirion." She began, with her always present diplomatic, flattery filled greetings. Kiirion returned the fomalities with a bow of his head and a pleasant smile, though there was no warmth behind it.

"I see you're living up to your reputation," Savanyah of Ranning commented in mild amusement, though also appreciative of his respect for their time. "They told me you'd be the first one here."

"Timeliness is always an honorable first impression. Though that platitude I credit to my mother," Kiirion replied with a cordial grin, though only out of obligation.

As he was welcomed to the table, he continued to entertain the compulsory small talk with the Council members, though it inwardly pained him. He could see the plastered smiles on their faces.

You only want me here because of what I can do for you. If he hadn't perfected maintaining a pleasant expression over literal decades of practice, he would have sneered in contempt.

Then, another person arrived at the door.

"Queen Savitri Hediya of Aro," the page announced.

Melvix moved through the crowd wearing a brown tunic that hid his silver chain mail. A white toga hugged the tunic. Chatters and laughter met his ear like the buzzing of a bee - annoying, unwanted. To distract himself from the noise, he directed his thought to the service he had swore as a part of the Fellowship to the High Council. Savanya Krish treated him like a mother would, and she definitely used the respect he had given to her as an advantage to persuade him to join. He didn’t mind, though. If she thought this was the best way to defeat Gaurem and his damned minions, he would defer.

That being said, it brought the image of blood and corpses to his mind, tickling his throat to attempt him to vomit. Negotiation with Gaurem was impossible, alas.

Among the stalls lining the road, he saw Renor Texavar. The man had her black-haired tied, his attention to the goods presented in front of him. He noticed Melvix’s presence, however, as when he approached, he spoke. ‘You are going to the meeting?’

Melvix stood beside him, nodding. ‘Yes. You should know that by now as the Council decided the date and place. I do not know why they would choose Ranning, however. I am pretty sure our kingdom does not have a good reputation with others given our ruler chooses to be an emperor. Perhaps Hryndar or Saemaro are better options?’

Renor took a red apple and inspected it, twisting it in his hand. ‘The place does not matter. What matters is how effective the Fellowship would be. And Rah Arkavach is not keen with the ruler of Saemaro.’ He grunted. ‘That is true for other human kingdoms. I hope after this cooperation between kingdoms, he would see there is no need to expand the influence of Ranning. This is a bad apple.’

‘I prefer mango,’ Melvix said, picking the orange yellow fruit. ‘I heard the Aro brings their queen as a member for the Fellowship. Would not be a risky move, the kingdom having no one to look after it?’

Renor took the mango from him and threw it to one of the bowls prepared for the customers. ‘The Aro is not stupid. Savitri Hediya is a more than capable queen and she has picked the most suitable wolf to take her place.’ He paused. ‘I do wonder what would the atmosphere be like in the Fellowship later. Having a queen around might give some tensions. I would bet some would know how to interact with her. That being said, I do hope the Fellowship would work.’

‘I hope so too. Savanya is adamant this is the best way. I am sure to meet fellow fighters like myself, though I suspect I would be the only one who does not relish on being the one who draw out the blood from the enemies.’ Melvix rubbed his face. ‘Why cannot fighting be a sport instead of a murdering action? I guess it would take time before we turn to negotiations to settle disputes.’

Renor looked at him and gave him the basket of fruits he had purchased. ‘Melvix Antavex, after the whole thing with the Fellowship is over, remind me to nominate you for a position in the High Council.’

He accepted the basket and smiled. ‘That would be interesting indeed. I would not forget. Now, shall we proceed to the meeting?’

‘Your arm, young man,’ Renor said, holding out his hand. ‘Savanyah must have been waiting.’

Melvix chuckled and offered his arm, which Renor took. Unlike other men, Renor was not fond of the idea of masculinity. He kept his hair long, now reaching his waist. He wore a generic tunic, though its white colour would be considered feminine. People would certainly notice his painted lips and saw he was odd. Not to Melvix. The siblings, Renor and Savannah, were dear to him. Renor for his casual attitude and Savanyah for her wisdom. Together, Melvix and Renor walked to the castle.



Melvix was the third Fellowship member to arrive while Renor was the last Council member to do so. The page announced their arrival and as they walked in, they could see the first two stared at them. It must have been odd for them; perhaps because they were humans while the Fellowship members were an elf and a wolf. And also perhaps the sight of two men having unusual outward intimacy was rare. Melvix did not care. He had not cared about what others thought of him as long as he remembered. Renor parted with him, going to the table reserved for the High Council and joining his sister.

The wolf though. She must be Savitri Hadiya, the Queen of Aro. The flecks of silver and gold in her fur contributed to her majestic look. He wondered what would it feel like, though perhaps voicing the thought out loud would be inappropriate. She interacted with others easily, but it was clear from her voice that she did not want others to forget she was a royal member. Melvix would want to have some one-on-one time with her to understand her better.

Kiirion, the elf, also impressed him. He stood tall, his body ripped with muscles. With eyes that blue and hair that gold, Melvix was sure he would be everyone’s favourite immediately. He was conversing with the Council members, his pleasant smile looking so familiar. A practiced one, Melvix thought while he talked with Nei Herbella. Shifting his attention to the Hryndar’s Council member, he could glean her experience with the way she presented herself.

He managed to sit alone, finally, and looked around. The other should have arrived soon.

Sagaree stood on the peak of one of the small hills in Ranning, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. In front of him, the guide he had hired to take him to the Council meeting slowed, but just barely. "Come, Mr. Poashend, it is only a 1 more hour journey," he said in his heavy accent.

Sagaree nodded slowly, looking up at the sky. He had a few hours, but once he got to the capital city of Ranning, he needed to shop for an exquisite gift to present the hosts. It was customary to select one item, usually costing several month's wages for an ordinary citizen, to thank them for preparing a dinner and agreeing to take charge of the meeting.

Of course, Sagaree thought that HE should be paid for sitting through another boring council meeting. He was never able to get a word in through the other bellowing council members, arguing furiously with each other until they were on the verge of physical violence. The hosts never did anything to disrupt the verbal repartee, and it could go on for hours of insults flying back and forth.

But this was a very important Council meeting. It had been stressed that it was critical that all members be present, the representatives from all nations flocking to Ranning at a moment's notice. Sagaree was lucky that Ranning was close, since he had been away on business and had just returned yesterday evening, and was able to walk the entire distance in only a few hours.

Sagaree was immersed in his thoughts as he climbed the rocky terrain, following the guide mindlessly. He didn't even notice that they were nearing the city until the guide tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mr. Sir, we are here."

⬖ ⬗ ⬖ ⬗ ⬖ ⬗
Sagaree stood in front of the tall building, holding a box with a beautiful diamond ring in one hand and a beautifully carved bow in the other. He had found them from a merchant, who had sworn that they were the best in Ranning, and decided that they would be suitable presents for his hosts. The door swung open, and he looked up into the face of Melvix Antavex of Ranning.

"Hello, Melvix. It's been a long time."

"Greetings, Sagaree. Indeed it has, too long, in fact, but what's this you're holding?"

"A small gift for the host." Sagaree presented the bow to Melvix, along with the box.

"Sagaree, this is too much," Melvix said airily, running his hands up and down the fine bow and opening the box to examine the ring.

"It was nothing, really. Just something I saw along the way that I though was suitable to present to the host and the hostess."

"Well, allow me to offer my deepest thanks to you for your kindness."

"Certainly. Has the meeting begun?"

"No, but it is about to. Allow me to escort you."

"Thank you, Melvix."

Melvix nodded and guided Sagaree through the crowd to the table reserved for the High Council, offering him a chair near him. Sagaree gratefully accepted and sat down in the chair, keeping his back straight and folding his hands on the table. He nodded politely at the other council members there, waving at a few down towards the end of the table.

He was always intimidated by these gatherings, and couldn't help feeling like he had nothing to bring to the table. Looking around, he noticed how strong and powerful all the other members were, and cast a disdainful look at his own figure, noticing now small and scrawny it was in comparison to Kiirion, or even Melvix.

He sighed, a deep breath rattling his entire body. Glancing around, he saw a few empty seats, but couldn't identify who was missing. I hope they arrive soon, he thought to himself, wondering how much longer he could keep up the fake pretense of politeness, playing this deadly game of mannerisms and negotiations.

Looking inside, she found the extravagant royalties of the carriage, and the way it would separate her from the earth, absolutely revolting. Even from far away she could smell the stuffy velvet seats and thought she would certainly suffocate if she was to be locked inside.

In Aro, no wolf, especially the queen, would have been expected to disgrace themselves by traveling in such a contraption, let alone one drawn by walking meat. She liked the taste of horse meat and while being suffocated in the carriage would have also felt a hint of guilt that a team of them were obliviously serving her. Even though they were stupid and she had indulged herself in many an equine meal, Savitri had a great respect for horses, and disliked that they were forced into servitude by humans. She was accustomed to seeing fierce and wild herds of them in Aro, the embodiments of the spirit of nature, and it saddened her to see them so oppressed.

She had traveled quite briskly on her own four paws to the border of Aro, flanked by members of her royal guard, to meet the humans that would escort her to the meeting in Ranning. Of course she should have anticipated that humans, determined but weak as they were, would have supposed it only necessary to provide her with transportation, but rather as recognizing it as a polite gesture, she was insulted.

“Absolutely not!” she cried, a bit more passionately than she had meant. Two of the horses, already intimidated by the half dozen giant wolves in front of them, panicked at her voice and threw both the riders.

“They’re only trying to be respectful,” the wolf at her side whispered.

The humans looked confused. “Is there something wrong with the carriage, Your Highness?”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Savitri said, “but yes. Everything is wrong with it. I shall not travel in a carriage.”

“How do you wish to travel, Your Highness?”

“On my feet, of course,” she said.

“Whatever you wish, Your Highness, but note that we still have a long way to travel and the rest of us will be riding horseback.”

“That will be fine,” Savitri said, smiling. “I won’t slow you down, I promise.”

As she bid her fellow wolves goodbye, a heavy dew of sadness blanketed her heart. She touched noses which each of them and exchanged deep gazes, wordless conversations that she would remember far longer than any words.

Then she flicked her tail and galloped off in the general direction of Ranning, slowing down only so that the startled horseman and the empty carriage could catch up.



"Queen Savitri Hediya of Aro.”

Truth be told, Savitri was greatly unsettled. She was not used to being totally separated from her kin, and her first taste of it was bitter. She also disliked towns and cities and constricting castles, preferring her own humble cave, where she could sit at its mouth and watch the flocks of birds drift by.

In the hall, she was assailed with a great number of different scents from the feast table, and from the many different creatures in the room, and for a moment she was so overwhelmed that she forgot to puff her chest out. But in another moment she had recovered, and gazed across the expanse of the room, to the High Council members, feeling not the least bit intimidated. She was the queen of Aro, and was gladdened to see many awe-stricken faces turn her way.

She drifted between conversations, paying particular attention to the members of the New Fellowship. So far only the elf Kiirion was there, who struck her immediately as stuck-up and disrespectful, but shortly the human Melvix made his entrance, and then the other human Sagaree, who both took a seat at the table with the High Council members. Savitri noticed a place at the table where there was no chair, and assumed that it was for her. But instead of taking it she wandered over to the two humans, who looked friendly enough, especially compared to the elf.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” she said, dipping her head slightly.

“Queen Savitri!” Melvix exclaimed, standing to bow respectfully. Sagaree rose to do the same.

“Do you know who else we are waiting for?” Sagaree asked.

“Yes,” Savitri said. She had been sure to be well-informed. “There is still the Agmarion elf, the Andaratian human, and the Pyradian dwarf.”

“Correct,” Melvix beamed. “Ésmaril Jumara, Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree, and Thorik Von Holstheim.”

Savitri was pleased with the man’s sharp memory. Before she could compliment him, however, the page announced the newest guest.

Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree stood before the Andaratian council, who sat around a long oval table. Before her was the seven most powerful and authoritative figures in Andarat, and they very well could be some of the strongest people on the planet. They had called for her. The reason was unknown to Willow, but it was clear this council had plans for her, judging from the intense looks they were giving her. She took a deep breath and lowered her head in a half-bow. "You called for me?"

The King of Andarat, sitting at the end of the table, looked at her with serious eyes, commanding for her to raise her head. She complied. "Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree," he started, "You have been summoned to our council meeting chambers to be given a mission, a quest."

Willow raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the claim.

"You are to report to Ranning, before the High Council of Ranning. They have requested each nation send one representative from each major nation, so that they may create a strong fellowship. We of the Andaratian Council have selected you to represent our country, as well as every minor tribe and village within our land. Should you accept, you must be at Ranning by nightfall."

"If you don't mind my asking," Willow cautiously asked. "What exactly is this fellowship to do?"

Another member of the council spoke, rising from her seat. "The fellowship is to fight and prevent a war."

Willow hesitated. "Is that it?"

"That is all they told us, yes."

"Willow," said the king. "Do you choose to accept this mission."

She bowed her head and lowered herself to her knees. "Yes, your highness. I shall report to Ranning immediately." With that, she spun aroundand left for the stables, so that she could begin the ride to Ranning.

Thorik Von Holstheim

Thorik leaned back in his saddle as Ajax began his descent, his wings fanning out to slow his dive as they approached the city of Ranning. While Dwarves themselves were a rare sight, a Sky Centurion, or even a griffin was a sight even rarer. Unfortunately, many people didn't even know what a griffin looked like, and as soon as Ajax came into view of Ranning, alarm bells began to roll throughout the city. He was flanked on both sides by four of his fellow knights. Ensuring Chilo's heir got to his meeting point was a very important task, that even the Knight-Commander of the Centurions, Kieron Skyclimber was present, and also acted as the Kings Justice, essentially anything Kieran said was backed by the Kings authority. It was a high honor.

Before they reached the landing spot that was designated for Centurions on the rare times they ran messages for the king to Ranning, the alarms ceased, as a level headed commander must have reminded his soldiers what was shoot and what was salute. Ajax roughly, screeching when his talons slid a few more feet than intended. Thorik adjusted his weight as Ajax found his footing. He was still young.

He undid the leg straps as his fellow Centurions landed around him, and pages bearing the coat of arms of Ranning, approached, followed by a man in deep silk robes, and another man in heavy plate armor. Essentially his guides. Kieron joined him on the journey to the palace, leaving the other knights to unsaddle the griffins, and see them fed and roosted.

Kieran and Thorik ignored the talking of the city councilor, instead watching the city, as people gawked and stared, as if the arrival of two dwarves turned their world upside down. It was a common reaction from city folk. It was worse out in the country or by the border villages. You would've thought Gaurem was back.

Soon, he found himself in the castle, making his way to the High Council's chamber, his armor making little noise as the fur muffled it. Flying high was a very cold experience. Soon, they found themselves at a wide door, and the city councilor opened the door, speaking quietly too the page waiting eagerly.

"Kieran Skyclimber of Pyradia! Knight-Commander of the Sky Centurions of Pyradia! Also the Kings Justice!"

"Thorik Von Holstheim of Pyradia! Heir to House Holstheim and Sky Centurion"

Thorik straightened his back proudly as he made his way to one of the empty seats, ignoring the stares of his fellow members of the fellowship. A dwarf always managed to turn heads. Kieran found a nook on the outskirts to sit down in and watch the proceedings. He was here as an observer, nothing more. King Hrothgar was playing at something by having him here.

We're almost there, thought Ésmaril as she climbed the steep, grassy hill. Though it would take at least a month or two's more hard travel to completely tire any elf out, she was certain the reason why she felt not in the least winded - full of energy, even - was because of one reason.

Her mission. Even just the briefest flicker of thought about her great duty to her people and to Telya caused her heart to beat like the hooves of a galloping horse, and to burn with a passion to succeed. She touched the leather strap slung over her chest, which tethered her quiver to her back. Then she tightened her grip on her bow, the immense bow of her ancestor, Királin.

"Yes," she murmured to herself. "I will bring honor to her name and to Agmarion."

As Ésmaril reached the top of the large slope, one of many for which Ranning's people were called 'Men of the Hills', she stood and let the cool breeze ripple through her hair. The hint of a smile appeared on her face as she heard the soft whispers carried on the wind, ones of those long gone but never forgotten, which anyone could hear if they only listened carefully. They seemed to be encouraging her.

She surveyed the land below for the path to follow next to Ranning's capital. The grin she wore widened and she turned to exclaim, "Father! I see the city!"

"Indeed," replied her father, stepping up beside her and folding his arms behind his back as he glanced down at the fortified conglomerate of buildings. "We have arrived at last." Though the expression on his handsome, still youthful face was neutral, Carand Jumara's eyes twinkled as he looked at his daughter.

Ésmaril sighed and clutched Királin's bow close to her chest. "I've prepared for this my whole life, even though I didn't know it yet," she said. "I know we can defeat the Slyrinik."

Her father didn't reply, instead studying her face for several moments. Strangely, Ésmaril felt as if she, for once, could not read him.

At last, he spoke again. "Be careful you do not use the name of Evil so lightly, daughter. Though they are still at the Border, he will not wait for long." His voice was low and serious, as if so no one but she could hear. As if saying that name even from afar would bring Telya's untimely end bearing down upon them.

But he was right, of course. Ésmaril bowed her head. "Yes, Father."

"Good." Carand nodded with approval. "Let us make haste. There is no doubt many have already arrived. Lady Lymri will be waiting for us."

The two Elves made their way towards the city. As they entered and walked through the busy cobblestone streets towards the castle, Ésmaril noticed the stares and looks of awe from the humans they passed by. Probably, the majority of these citizens had never seen a Silver Elf before - or any elf at all. It wasn't hard to stand out among these people anyways; she and her father were at least a head taller than the mass. That being said, she had never personally spoken to a human, herself.

At last, they reached the doors of the castle. Ésmaril's father pulled out a small, wooden tag and held it up. "Lord Carand Jumara and my daughter, Lady Ésmaril Jumara."

The guards bowed, though the younger one, who seemed no more than a boy, stared at the bow in Ésmaril's hand. He must be 18 years old at the most, she reasoned, reviewing what she knew about humans, though she still couldn't fathom how quickly humans lived, matured, and died, in less than a hundred years, while Elves lived for centuries. It must be a sad thing for them.

She smiled kindly at the young guard, but drew her brows together in confusion when he flushed and he turned his gaze to the ground. She was still puzzling over his behavior as the gates opened and she followed her father into the castle.

"Father, why did that guard act like that? I just smiled at him and then his face turned as red as his hair--"

"I believe there are some things in life, daughter," replied Carand, who seemed amused, "that you personally may not be ready to understand. You will learn in time."

That was hardly the answer she was seeking, but she would be forced to accept it for now if Father refused to explain something he obviously knew the answer to.

After walking through what were undoubtedly uncomfortable walkways - definitely not made with elves in mind - they reached the chamber where the High Council of Telya was to meet and walked in to the page's announcement.

"Lord Carand Jumara of Agmarion, High Council member! Lady Ésmaril Jumara of Agmarion!"

There were already so many people there, of all the races. Carand crossed the room to Pélanta Lymri, the other Elven High Council member, while Ésmaril scanned the room for the other individuals who would comprise the New Fellowship.

The first one she saw, much to her chagrin, was the Dwarf. Her lip curled slightly as she glanced at the smaller figure already seated at the table. He sat apart from and ignored the other non-dwarven Fellowship members - did he think that all other races were inferior to his? He would definitely be a trying person to work with.

She turned her gaze to the edge of the room, narrowing her eyes as she saw another dwarf seated in a corner, watching the proceedings. She didn't recognize him from previous annual High Council meetings hosted in Agmarion - she had already spotted the two dwarves who were Council members. So who was he?

They wouldn't dare to cause trouble at this sacred meeting, would they? Either way, she was sure she would not let them achieve any schadenfreude here today because of her. Elves should not be humiliated by Dwarves.

To take her mind off the unpleasant dwarf situation, Ésmaril approached the other Elven Fellowship member, who was sitting alone.

"Greetings, Kiirion," she said, standing at his side. "It's been a long time."

He glanced up and stood. "Hello, Ésmaril. How have you been all these years?" His expression was pleasant, a welcome change from the smug expression she had seen on Thorink von Holstheim's face.

"Very well, thank you," she replied, smiling. Even though Agmarion and Hryndar had been at minor odds in recent times, it wouldn't stop her from being friendly. "How is your healing work?"

"It is the same as always, though being able to help many people is very fulfilling."

"Well," said Ésmaril, putting her hands together, "I am quite thrilled to be here today. Come, let's go speak to the other Fellowship members." She gestured towards the two humans and the wolf, who must definitely be the Queen of Aro, with those refined mannerisms.

Kiirion hesitated, so briefly that Ésmaril barely caught it, but he recovered quickly and they walked together towards the others.

"Hello," she said as they joined the group. "Your Majesty," she bowed deeply to the wolf, who nodded regally, "and you two must be Melvix Antavex and Sagaree Poashend. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Melvix smiled politely and returned the greeting. He seemed quite nice enough for a Rannian warrior, though he didn't carry a sword with him, which Ésmaril thought was strange, as she herself nearly always kept her bow and arrows at hand. Meanwhile, the wizard Sagaree, though he too greeted the elves, was mostly quiet and seemed slightly uncomfortable. Ésmaril figured that most wizards spent a lot of time alone, so he had that excuse.

So, it seemed, they were all there, except for their Andaratian shieldmaiden. Ésmaril hoped she would come soon so they could become acquainted with her.

At that moment, the page cried, "Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree, of Andarat!"

They all turned to see the warrior walk in to the room. She was heavily armored, with a 'Q' emblazed curiously on her chest piece. Though her appearance, especially her eyes, were quite foreign - apparently she came from a small tribe within the Andaratian land - she seemed like a pleasant individual.

Melvix commented, "Our final member has come now. The High Council meeting should begin shortly."

Ésmaril felt a rush of excitement within her. Their circle was now complete. They would get their assignment as the heirs of their ancestors and embark on their journey to combat the dark forces and save Telya. It couldn't come soon enough.

◄ Kiirion Ayair Faelar ►

Kiirion watched as Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree entered the room, his eyes closely observing her body language. He very quickly noted she held herself like a soldier, not unlike most of the other people in the room - excluding some of the council members who were more accustomed to sitting in meetings and excercising their diplomacy as opposed to dipping their toes directly in the conflict. Although, to their credit, they were the facilitators of such chaos, as well as the mediators of peace - depending on where they drew the line between right and wrong, and whether it was worth the insurmountable death or not.

He gave a polite bow of his head to Ésmaril and Melvix as he walked the distance around the long table spread across of the middle of the room to make his way to the new arrival. This time, he decided to take the initiative to introduce himself to Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree (who he would respectfully address by her full name, despite it being a mouthful) instead of letting Ésmaril be the instigator. As he approached Willow, he met her purple eyes with smiling ones, a self-manufactured warmth fueling his pleasant countenance.

"Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree," he begins, giving her a small bow of his head and extending his hand to shake - though it wasn't really an elven greeting, he did so on the assumption, that for her, as a human, it was customary. "Welcome."

Willow looked up at him with a hint of a smirk. "And hello to you too, Kiirion Ayair Faelar. But you can just call me Willow."

Kiirion grinned, his brows raising ever so slightly. "Willow it is then. I do grow sick of formalities after a time."

"You must not be that good of a healer then," she quips dryly, her smirk widening.

Kiirion smiled, a short, breathy, huff of a laugh escaping his lips. Sarcasm. That, I can appreciate. He steps to the side a bit, giving a small wave of his hand for Willow to pass him and join them at the table with the others. As she passed him and followed to the others, his smile relaxed into an agreeable expression. She seemed to have a good sense of humor, no doubt, but he was still noting her behaviors along with everyone else. Namely, he was trying to guage to what degree others were excited to be there, or not. He knew without a doubt that Ésmaril was naively so, but that much he'd deduced before even arriving at the meeting. Though it had been quite some time since he'd last seen her, he knew her well enough that she was the kind to be loyal to the people, and would fight against darkness and champion the light. She was immature, and seemed almost blissfully hopeful, but she was confident. Were this new Fellowship to work and be unilaterally agreed upon, her morale would undoubtedly be a driving force for them.

He was already starting to note that she was likely the most passionate about their cause than any other future Fellowship member in the room.

"I'm Ésmaril..."
"Willow..."
"Melvix..."
...and so on.

He stood by as the others exchanged greetings with the last member to arrive, taking a seat across from them. As he watched their interactions, all mostly polite (the Queen's, however, seeming more haughty than the others), his eyes drifted further down the table, a few seats down from him.

The dwarf.

His eyes flickered away for just a moment, but he soon realized that the dwarf was intentionally avoiding his gaze, along with everyone else's in the room. A smart move.. for one who doesn't want to stir the pot. Kiirion would commend the dwarf for his passivity, but in this setting, it only set him apart as an outcast, which, in a way, he already was. There was already a very present tension felt in the room as the elves and dwarves furtively avoided direct interaction with one another. So he would let others make his bed an he'd just lie in it? He looked away. Well, perhaps that's preferable to the alternative. Which would be him making a grandiose entrance to draw attention and step on toes. Though it seems he's already done that outside, flying in on a griffin. He wondered if, perhaps Thorik Von Holstheim (because, yes, he knew his name - he knew everyone's names, as he'd done some research on them beforehand), being from such a prestigious dwarven lineage, was more accustomed to dealing with such politics and meetings like these. Though he doubted a dwarven meeting like this would be run in a simliar manner.

Kiirion did not engage the lone dwarf in conversation, but instead looked across the table to the others, and to Sagaree at his left. He briefly looked over the other magic user of the group, noting the differences in their skills and types of magic. Both of them seemed to posess it iherently, due to whatever luck (or lack thereof) of genes, but both had been trained in it.

"Sagaree, yes?" He asks, turning in his seat to face the human man.

"Mm," Sagaree nods, his eyes giving Kiirion a calculating gaze, like one would give to a stranger who'd approached them randomly in public for no particular reason.

Kiirion gives a small grin, though at this point he'd already grown tired of playing up the politeness for the sake of first impressions. "It's an honor to have someone of such skill join us here. I hear you're very well practiced in your craft."

Sagaree gives a small nod of thanks, his expression shifting to a cool, blank one. "It has only come with time and patience, but thank you for the flattery."

"Oh, don't thank me for it. It wasn't flattery," he replies with an obligatory half-lie, appreciating the man's vocalized humility, but inwardly feeling that the his cold exterior was hiding... something. Though at the moment, it was only a gut feeling. At the very least, it didn't appear that Sagaree was thrilled to be there. Despite himself, he found himself pleased by that fact.

"Kiirion!" Ésmaril called from across the table, giving him a small wave to grab his attention. "You've met Melvix, right? Of Ranning?"

Kiirion's attention, now stolen away from Sagaree, was brought to Ésmaril and Melvix, who was standing beside her. "I don't believe we have yet. Not face to face." He gave Melvix another one of his nods. "Pleasure to make your aquaintence, Melvix. Are you joining us to bless us with your extensive knowledge of magic, or simply as a warrior?"

Melvix's brows shot up at the reference to his written works, appearing visibly surprised. He smiled a little, "A warrior. I don't think book knowledge will serve of much practical use for the quest we're called to."

"Maybe not in the midst of a battle, no. But it does make for interesting conversation," Kiirion comments, his eyes floating around the room a moment, seeing that the council members had yet to settle in yet. "Though do spare us any lectures," he jokes with a grin.

Melvix's brows drew together and he smiled weakly, the humor failing to land on him. "I'll try not to."

Inwardly, Kiirion sighed, but outwardly he simply nodded. He looked around once again, but this time only at their select group - the seven of them that had been called there to be the new Fellowship. He was already trying to figure out what the group dynamics were going to look like, and he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be smooth sailing. But he wouldn't expect any less from a group forced into their position.

★ Melvix Antavex of Ranning, Heir to Taron ★

Melvix looked around him. All members of the Fellowship had finally arrived, and it pleased him to see such diverse characters. Kiirion, for example, showed his calculative demeanour quite obviously; with his shrewd eyes, he must have been observing others in the meeting. Melvix had tried to test Kiirion by saying Melvix’s knowledge in magic was useless for their mission and was surprised by Kiirion’s disagreement of that.

‘My Council Member tells me you’re not quite just a healer, but also a fighter,’ Melvix said, wanting to focus on Kiirion. ‘With your physical frame, I can see the evidence of that. Better to succeed in multiple tasks, eh?’

Kiirion nodded and gave him a measured smile. ‘Indeed, especially since I specialize on something that, in the midst of battle, won’t protect myself when a fighter goes against me. That being said, I do wish I can avoid such scenarios. I am more needed in ceasing wounds than inflicting them.’

Melvix raised his eyebrows. Someone who prefers healing instead of hurting, he thought. He will understand me more than the rest.

When he was about to talk further, Renor arrived and took Kiirion’s arm with ease. ‘Mind if I borrow this fine fellow for a while?’

Seeing Kiirion’s surprised expression - which ceased immediately - Melvix suppressed his smile. Renor had Kiirion in his grasp, now. Not only the council member was famous with his outspoken manner, he was also prone to unpredictability. And handsome male - even if he was an elf - was Renor’s favourite target.

Melvix bowed. ‘Not at all.’ He left the two of them and went to meet another elf, Esmaril Jumara. It wasn’t hard to find her with her distinctive pale skin and waist-long brown hair. ‘Lady Esmaril,’ he said and bowed.

Esmaril was listening to the rambling of a Council Member whose name Melvix couldn’t remember. She excused herself from her current conversation partner and went toward him. When they were far enough from the Council Member, she let out a relieved sigh. ‘Thank you for your interruption. Sometimes, I can’t handle the amount of words a human can utter.’

Melvix chuckled. ‘I’m sure you’re used to it, having to live for more than six centuries.’

‘I try to avoid talkative creatures as much as possible,’ Esmaril said. She walked with a stride, her chin held high. Despite wearing a smile, Melvix could see something distant in her eyes.

These longevity-blessed elves, what have they experience in life, I wonder, he thought as they approached a small round table and assumed their seats. ‘I’ve heard your involvement in the Fellowship wasn’t a recent choice, but rather something that had been decided since you were young. Is it true?’

Esmaril raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘You don’t have to word it that way, Sir Melvix. What I have is a responsibility, and I’m proud to carry it with me. By protecting the world and its inhabitants, I protect my people too, and there’s no higher honor than that.’ She leaned forward, her smile deepened. ‘Not to mention, I’m quite comfortable with the fame brought by joining a Fellowship.’

Melvix shook his head slightly. ‘For you, perhaps, but for me, being scrutinized most of the time is far from giving me comfort. But I guess each of us has their own preference.’

Esmaril let out a low laugh. ‘Indeed.’

‘Attention, my sirs and ladies.’ Melvix and Esmaril turned to the source of the voice. Savanya Krish stood at the middle along with some Council Members. She put on a serious expression, made more severe with the simple spectacles she wore. Since the meeting was held in Ranning, Savanya took charge of it. ‘From the behalf of the people of Ranning, I welcome all of you to this meeting. Indeed, your mere presence gives me hope that we can protect our world from those who harm it. While I hope there will be more time for us to associate with those we meet only today, we cannot delay the meeting any longer. Please assume the provided seats so that we can start it soon.’

Sagree breathed a sigh of relief and settled into his chair, sitting straight up and resting his hands on the table. It was about time for the negotiations and discussion to begin. These meetings were usually lengthy, seeing as every representative hoped to get some words in and present their argument, and when all of them needed to respond to every single point brought up by any of the members, it could drag on for several hours, easily.

Looking around, he noticed that there were still some empty seats. He had seen all of them gathered here only minutes ago, but many of them were likely roaming the halls, in search of lost acquaintances or some peace and quiet before the rambunctious discussions began.

Savanya seemed to notice as well. "Where is everyone?" she demanded.

"No doubt mindlessly wandering the halls of this magnificent palace," Savitri answered. "It is no matter. I shall go find them." With that, she was gone in an instant, disappearing into the hallways.

Melvix leaned in to whisper in Sagaree's ears, "These warriors truly know how to test our patience."

Sagaree nodded in agreement. "They do, indeed. Sometimes I wonder if it's a test to see how we will work together."

"Quite possible," Melvix mused. "After all, if we are leaping at each other's throats in a controlled environment, heaven knows what would happen when we are alone with each other on a difficult and tiring mission."

"It will be quite a challenge of our personal abilities, not to mention our perseverance and patience. I have no doubt about that. But are we qualified? I get the impression that the Council wishes to ask something of us that will push us to the edge."

"I also get that impression, but you know we cannot afford to fail our respective countries. Besides, we are the strongest each territory has to offer. If we do not rise to the challenge, then who will?"

Sagaree sighed. It was, indeed, a good argument. The Council would not have summoned them from their individual corners of the world if the mission was not absolutely dire and simply a matter of time before a catastrophe occurred, and with the wobbly political state of all alliances right now, Sagaree found it easy to believe that something dramatic was going to happen today.

Savitri returned, followed by the missing members who took their seats, sheepishly glancing in the direction of Savanya. Finally, one of them cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Please pardon our tardiness, Savanya and Melvix. I have no good reason for delyaing the meeting, and can simply offer my humblest apologies and pray that you will accept them."

The other latecomers murmured their agreement, and Savanya nodded, wisely choosing not to press the issue. "It is of little significance. I appreciate and accept your apologies, and now, without further ado, I would like to begin the meeting."

She paused and looked around the room, more uncertain than Sagaree had ever seen her. She usually appeared so composed, it was troubling to see her lose that coolness that had brought her through many years of tedious meetings.

"This will be difficult news to deliver, more difficult than I had anticipated," she began, and Sagaree shifted forward in his seat. While it was not unusual to hear somebody preface their speech with a note similar to this one, it was still jarring to hear Savanya lose her composure.

Savanya cleared her throat and continued to speak. "The Council has a job for you, and it will be very taxing to each of you individually. However, you are the most qualified candidates from your respective regions, and together you should form the perfect team for the job."

"And what would that job be?" one of the members inquired.

Savanya paused. "We need you to defeat the Slyrinik."

◄ Kiirion Ayair Faelar ►

A heavy silence fell over the room as the fateful words left Savanya's mouth. No one dared utter questions or doubts of the true existence of the threat. It seemed most people in the room were already aware of their reasons for meeting, but it seemed that once the words were finally uttered out loud to them all, they carried a weight that caused an immediate shift in the atmosphere of the room. Everyone wore a solemn expression.

"You will be forming the New Fellowship, should you answer the call," Savanya finally continued. "This is not for the faint of hear, nor the feeble bodied. Again, that is why we've called upon you, representatives of the strongest and noblest of each land. The Otherworld has been breached. The time is closing in that the Slyrinik will come upon us - men and women of many races have died to get us this information. In fact, we suspect that we have only caught wind of such darkness stirring because they want us to. They are gathered at the edge of our world, preparing to strike."

Carand Jumara of Agmarion stood up, picking up Savanya's speech. "In the days of old, our ancestors formed the Fellowship we know today in tales of legend. Today, we endeavor to gather you to create yet another Fellowship to face this great foe. After much deliberation we have come believe that the spirits of the original fellowship live on in you seven, and we believe if you work together, you will find victory as you become the seven of The New Fellowship."

"Your people need you. Telya needs you. Now is the time for you to decide: will you, for the sake of your people, and for the sake of all of our peoples, step up and face this imminent and destructive foe?"

The question seemed to hang in the air as the seven each looked out at the councilmen and women seated at the table. It did not hang in the air very long however, as Ésmaril stood nobly from her seat to answer the call.

"You have my word," she spoke, her voice gravely serious.

Savitri, Thorik, and Willow followed immediately after. "And mine."

Sagaree stood along with Melvix, and Kiirion was the last to raise to his feet - having contemplated on his commitment and his decision just a bit longer than the others. Are the others prepared to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders? He wondered. He wasn't sure, however, that anyone could truly be prepared for such a daunting task. Were they to fail, they would become martyrs... but the odds of the rest of Telya surviving would be slim at best. He did not desire to think of him and the other six as elated and elevated figures above all others in their lands, but were the council to be true to their word (which they would, Kiirion knew they were meticulous of such things) and only gather those whom they believed to carry the "spirit" of the former fellowship and be fully qualified... then they truly were the best and brightest their world had to offer.

Kiirion looked about their table - all of them standing solemnly in the presence of the reality of their collective futures.

Nei of Hyrandar broke the silence, meeting Kiirion's eye in the process.

"Your noble sacrifice will be recognized for the ages, I assure you," she said, with a voice both soothing and authoritative. "You may be seated."

The seven sat back down, turning their gaze to the council members.

"We have much to discuss," Nei continued. "The journey ahead of you will be long, and present to you many challenges. You must meet them at the edge. You must destroy them. Though we do not dare utter his name, you must strike down the head - take out their leader, and unravel their forces."

"Let us talk strategy," Renor of Ranning proposed, turning to the group.

"Yes," Nei nodded with an air of grace about her. "The meeting is open. All may contribute. Let's discuss."



As the meeting came to a close, the tension in the room (of many different sources) seemed to slowly be released. As if they all collectively sighed, the air felt lighter - for the council members, at least. The seven left at the table however, as the council members filed out, all exchanged tense glances. No real conclusions were met in the meeting apart from them now being responsible for the fate of Telya against the Slyrinik. What the council members thought was planning had become simply a slinging of ideas around only to shoot them all out of the air and not reach any intended target. Now it was up to them to gather what they could to come up with a plan... it seemed, the only thing they knew for sure, was that they would have to prepare for their trek to Telya's edge, where Telya met the Otherworld.

Kiirion was the one to break the silence once the council members had gone.

"If we are to make any progress working as a unit we will need a reliable leader to lead us so that we do not become a disorganized mess of independent individuals. If none of you are opposed, I will step in and take on the role as the leader of us seven. I know each of your are courageous of heart to arise to the call when the world needs you most. I hope that I will be able to lead you all with that same courage and nobility of heart that you all possess."

Savitri felt the hairs on her back bristle. Who did this pompous elf think he was? She opened her mouth, and closed it again. She didn’t know what to say.

The human Melvix spoke up before she could. “I am certainly not opposed. But aren't there any other claims to power among us?” He turned rather expectantly toward Savitri.

“Yes.” Savitri coughed into her paw. “I appreciate your eagerness, Kiirion, but I am afraid that your leadership capabilities are... lacking. Surely it is only natural that I, supreme leader of an entire kingdom for most of my life, am best suited for leading the New Fellowship.”

Kiirion's eyes squinted, his expression only a micro-movement away from becoming a sneer. "That may very well be so, Savitri, but leading a kingdom is a great leap from leading a war."

Savitri felt a rush of heat in her cheeks. She felt numbed by this backfire, but more than anything, angry. This elf didn't appreciate her presence. He didn't express gratitude for her sacrifice of leaving her kingdom - her family - so that she might risk her life and likely be a martyr among strangers. He was acting so... so... so rude!

"And what experience do you have with war?" she growled. She stopped to check her voice; letting her frustration show wouldn't do. So she looked at each of the faces around her, and spoke gently. "I feel it in my heart that it is my duty to lead this fellowship. Surely you all understand! It is to my knowledge that you are a healer, Kiirion, not a fighter. I commend you for your talents, but these talents do not necessarily constitute the make-up of a good leader. I have years of experience - what do you have?"

"I know how to fight," Kiirion stated plainly. "And yes. I am a healer, and healers are not traditionally known as ones who lead others into war. They are the ones who follow after. But as a healer I am very well aquainted with the consequences of war. Firsthand, I have seen and I have known the cost. My decisons would not be ill advised and would take into consideration what I know could potentially follow. If it is our intetion to win this for the sake of all Telya, then we need boldness and courage as much as we need wisdom in when to exercise caution and when to take risks." He leaned forward with his palms down on the table, looking straight at Savitri.

"I am by no means a perfect analyst of every possibility that may lie before us," he added, "but I am qualified and capable of leading. It is only a matter of you choosing to follow."

As he was talking, Savitri drew back her ears, pinning them to her skull; her lips trembled, threatening to curl back into a growl. Keep your calm! she told herself.

She raised her chin, relaxed her ears, and glared directly into Kiirion's eyes. In wolf language, such eye contact was a sign of aggression, so she funneled her anger into that glare, like a human would with their clenched fist. "I do not follow, Kiirion. It is not my nature, and I cannot allow it."

Kiirion's normally calm and cool composure broke for a moment as his brows raised and his eyes fluttered. A scoff nearly broke its way through his grinning lips, but he held it back. "You cannot allow it?" He let out a short breath, his grin turning into a smile like one would wear when surprised at witnessing sheer idiocy. "I'm sorry, Queen Savitri Hediya, but this is not your kingdom anymore. We are not your people. You cannot declare an ultimatum. This requires teamwork. Something, perhaps, you are unfamiliar with, as a queen."

Savitri grinned. She couldn't help herself. This was all so outrageous that she couldn't believe it was happening. "Teamwork," she laughed. "You're asking a wolf if she's unfamiliar with teamwork? I don't know how much you know about my species, but we're a people whose foundation is built upon working together. I might be the leader, but the greatest power lies with the pack."

Kiirion continued to meet her gaze, his smile reverting back into a grin. "I am not ignorant of the ways of your people. I've studied the cultures and civilizations that each one of you belongs to in this room."

"Typical elf," she said. "I would expect nothing less. You live for so long and have so much time to waste that you spend it memorizing all the little tidbits there is to know, so that then you can feel high and mighty around inferior species. You're nothing special, Kiirion."

"I never said you were inferior. And do not insult my entire race to get to me," he replied, his tone still diplomatic despite his eyes burning into hers. "This isn't about how 'special' I am. It is about ensuring the safety of our world. And I am not so vain to say that I am the one to do it. My only desire is that we are successful in our quest. But if you want to pit the quality of my character against yours then perhaps you should refrain from stereotyping my entire race. We are not a species comprised wholly of fools who waste our time. I am not a fool who wastes my time. Since I was a boy I have worked every day of my life, healing the wounded and diseased. I have not known a wasted day for many, many years."

Savitri dipped her head. She was suddenly aware of how silent their surroundings were; the other five fellowship members were hushed, waiting for her response. She passed a minute in silence, searching the deepest caverns of her heart. What would be the courageous thing to say? She imagined that her family, all the wolves of Aro, were congregated behind her, an army of love.

Even if these six mismatched souls wouldn't respect and care for her, even if they cast her out and mocked her, it wouldn't matter. Because she knew she would always have her family. And they outnumbered these six by the hundreds.

And yet! The idea of not being in power made her furious with frustration.

"Please pardon me for insulting your race," she said. "I let my emotions get the best of me. But still. I cannot comprehend your disregard of my own, divinely-granted position of queen of Aro. As I said before, my heart is in leadership, and I do not understand why you would let your own thirst for power eliminate my greatest strength. It is like keeping the strongest warrior at home to watch the pups, while the rest of the pack fights."

Kiirion's expression returned to a neutral one as the fire in his eyes finally dimmed. She apologized. That, he had not expected.

"Consider the insult forgotten," he said with a small bow of his head. "Though I disagree with your use of metaphor. Those who stay home to care for the next generation while the elder fights to defend them is just as honorable a station as the one who goes into battle. And as for my claims to power, it was never intended to undermine your status. However, I wonder if there are strengths you have yet to discover within yourself that might shine in a different setting. It may be useful to consider this an opportunity to grow - because I can assure you, this will not be easy for any of this. Not you nor I."

The elf seemed to straighten up, and with one final nod, looked about the room. "And on that note, I believe it best to hear from the rest of you. In the spirit of teamwork, I suggest we put it to a vote."

"Agreed." Savitri, not about to let him have the last word, initiated the process. She puffed out her chest, feeling confident and at ease. "All in favor of Kiirion being our leader, raise their hand."

Her sparkling eyes were quickly snuffed out.

Melvix and Ésmaril didn't stir, but the three others - Sagaree, Willow, and Thorik (oh, and Kiirion too, grining wolfishly) - gave their votes to the elf.

What?!

Savitri looked at Thorik. "But..."

"For the cause of saving the world, I'll put our species' ancient disputes to the side," the dwarf said gruffly.

"Well..." Savitri said. She was about to say "Positions of leadership are typically only figureheads anyway," but was jolted with embarrassment at her stupidity as she thought of how such a comment would backfire.

I'm not in the right state of mind, she thought. No wonder! What a calamity!

She locked gazes with Kiirion for the billionth time that day and glared at him with hatred. You might be our leader, she willed the glare to say, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you lead.

Ésmaril wondered if Queen Savitri was offended by the use of horses.

She gave a slight sideways glance at the wolf, who was walking beside Melvix's mount. From above, there was a screech from the dwarf's griffin. Ésmaril rolled her eyes and thought, Typical dwarf. Always showing off. Sagaree and Gentle Weep of the Willow Tree (Ésmaril wondered if the Andarati warrior had a nickname of any kind) rode behind. Ahead was Kiirion, alone. Except for the quiet conversation going on between Melvix and Queen Savitri, the party was silent.

To be perfectly honest, Ésmaril was still not quite so sure how Kiirion was chosen as their leader over the queen. For sure, she had nothing against the other elf--and he was certainly a better option than any dwarf, had Von Holstheim volunteered to lead--but still . . . what did the others not see in Savitri Hediya that Ésmaril and Melvix seemed to? That was the question to which she could not find the answer.

The New Fellowship had been traveling for almost the whole day through the open plains of Ranning. The feeling was strange, though. It seemed that only minutes ago, Ésmaril had watched her father and the High Council grow smaller in the distance as she and her new companions rode away from the city. Yet, she also felt a stirring of excitement and pride at the thought that she would be an important part in saving Telya.

Kiirion slowed his horse to a stop and turned in his saddle to address the others. "Let's stop here for today."

"The sun is still quite high in the sky," protested Savitri, though Ésmaril observed that their source of light was growing dimmer and almost nearing the line of the horizon. "We should travel as far as we can while there is still daylight."

"I beg to differ, Your Majesty," said Kiirion. "We have covered much ground. Although reaching our destination as quickly as possible is important, we cannot allow ourselves to be too tired. One does not simply walk into the Border without proper rest beforehand. This is not up for debate," he quickly added as the wolf opened her mouth again. "We'll start traveling again at dawn." He dismounted and led his horse under a tree.

"For now, Ésmaril and Sagaree, scout around to make sure there aren't any threats. Thorik and I will gather firewood, while Melvix and Gentle Weep--"

"Please, you can call me Willow," said the shieldmaiden. "I'm sure it absolutely exhausts you to say the whole name." So she did have a nickname after all.

"Yes, all right then," said Kiirion, without missing a beat. "Melvix and Willow will clear the area to set up camp. Oh, and Queen Savitri, you're with the scouting team, I suppose."

Ésmaril admitted that Kiirion did seem to posses the skills of a leader, despite not being an official leader in Hryndar. Not that he deserved the position more than someone who was already a leader.

The queen sniffed and stalked over with her head high to join Ésmaril and the wizard, who had both dismounted. As they left the large group, Ésmaril gently asked, "Are you all right, Your Majesty?"

"I--" The wolf seemed to take a careful breath and stand taller. "Of course. Thank you for asking, Lady Ésmaril."

Meanwhile, Sagaree remained silent, following the two to patrol a large perimeter around the campsite.

Ésmaril let Savitri take the lead on their route. She held her bow carefully with an arrow notched to the string, in case anything took them by surprise. As they walked in general silence, she took the opportunity to reflect on the journey so far.

It was not as she expected. Not at all. She had imagined something more heroic, more grand, with everyone getting along . . . except for maybe the dwarf. Perhaps that was too romantic of a notion.

Mainly, she was glad that she hadn't been forced to directly interact with Thorik yet. Although it was apparent she had to be civil and respectful, as they were a part of the same team, with the same goal of saving Telya, Ésmaril wasn't sure how she would treat him, with all the tension between their people. And especially with how the prideful dwarves always treated the elves.

Suddenly, a loud sound of a stick cracking shook her out of her thoughts. She raised her bow toward the shrubs, where the noise was coming from.

"Who's there?" she demanded.