Candlelight danced upon the dark wood walls of the windowless room. It was not very large, though big enough for a desk and a bookcase at the adjacent walls. Books rested upon the shelves, filling them, to the point that they even sat in piles upon the desk.

Sitting with her head bent over was a young woman, writing elven script in a journal, her long black hair tied into a loose braid which hung over her right shoulder. The chair she sat upon had no back to accommodate the black wings, which sprouted from her back, spreading slightly to give her some comfort as she wrote. For a moment, she stopped, biting the inside of her cheek as she tapped the quill to her lips. There were so many words that she could use to describe her thoughts, but she knew not the right ones. She straightened in her seat and raised her eyes to a candle in front of her, the flame flickering with the movement. The light made her eyes appear almost translucent. With a gentle sigh, she placed the quill back within the ink well and rose to her feet. Her modest white gown caressed her lithe body, one that appeared fragile within the glow of the candles.

The hem of the gown flowed with her steps as she walked to a bookcase against the wall opposite the door. She ran her slender fingers over the bindings of the old leather bound books and smiled. Ever since she was a child she had loved to read. With her nose in her book all day, those of her age would constantly ridicule her while they went off to play. When they grew older, the girls would flirt; wondering who it would be that they would marry one day. Of course, she never cared for these things. She enjoyed poetry like many other girls, but she loved to learn, especially about the plants and other living things that she was so in tune with. For many hours a day she would often venture out to look at the new kinds of plants she would find, or just stay locked up in this old room, reading at her desk. It took her years to gather most of these books. Some were given by her teacher who praised her curious nature. With what little money she could muster or did not require for other necessities, and a few others were given to her as gifts.

Her eyes stopped upon one title and smiled to herself as she pulled the book off the shelf. Holding it close with one hand, she opened the cover. Ralith had given her this book on her one hundredth and twenty-fifth winter. She had just barely entered womanhood five years ago, thought it wasn’t much of a change form her daily routines. She did have some of the men in the village fawn over her, but many turned away because she have proven too smart or she didn’t pay them enough attention. Ralith was always so kind to her though, even when they were children. She had grown up with him; he was her closest friend. They were very different in many ways though. While he took up with the sword, learning the ways of physical fighting, she had someone teach her the ways of healing. Many days he would visit her, even just to say hello, but she knew he wanted more than friendship. Perhaps she had known it for a long time but didn’t want to admit it to herself, hoping things would change, but they never did.

Running her fingers over the page, she stood there silently, her smile fading as she placed the book back on the shelf. Before she could return to her seat, the door burst open causing her to jump, a startled gasp passing her lips. A tall man , though slightly hunched over, strode into the room, his blue eyes falling on her before he closed the door behind him. His robes were black, with golden designs woven into the material running down the front, the hem falling to his ankles revealing his bare feet.

"Mendra, I am glad I have found you," he wheezed, clearly out of breath from his search.

"Amuril?" Mendra looked upon her mentor as she stepped forward worried about his condition. "Are you all right?"

Before she could get much further than a step, he strode toward her, his ivory wings ruffling at the quick movements. He reached out, taking her wrist and leading her to her seat, making her sit. As Amuril stepped away, he breathed deeply, wanting to speak but letting himself calm down for Mendra’s sake. He raised a wrinkled hand and combed his bony fingers though his thin white hair. He still could not believe what was happening and what he must do. If only he was younger, he could do something on his own. But he wasn’t, and the only person who shared had his knowledge was Mendra.

"Amuril, you are worrying me. What is wrong?"

Mendra’s sweet voice broke through his jumbled thoughts. He gazed upon her with pale blue eyes, their corners crinkling as he tried to smile. She was so young, such a dark beauty compared to the others of his kind, even her mother had been a rare jewel. Her mother, a lovely woman who, like Mendra, wanted knowledge, to know everything she could. And now, the child he once knew was a grown woman. She sat before him, gazing upon with eyes that were all too familiar. He could not help but feel the guilt in his gut.

Slowly, he made his way to her side, taking her smooth hand into his own. "Mendra, my dear Mendra. Not only are you my pupil, but you are like a daughter to me, as your mother was before she died. What I am going to ask of you breaks my heart knowing you will be in danger. If I could, I would do it myself, but I am to old and I know I will fail if I tried."

Her slender black brows drew together as if she were registering everything he had just said though confusion was still evident within her gray eyes. "I don’t understand. Danger?"

Amuril sighed, clasping her hand between both of his, "It is as we all feared for many years. I was the first and only to find out for I have more knowledge of these things, but the others will know soon. The forest has been whispering, things that have been passed on from plant to living plant." He paused for a moment before he continued. "There is an elf, a powerful elf, one of the underground who wishes to destroy all that we protect."

Mendra gasped, her eyes growing wide. She tried to rise, but Amuril kept her down. "But Amuril, how could they? Surely we have numbers to keep them from doing so? Don’t we?"

"No Mendra, I’m afraid our numbers would not stop him from doing what he wishes." Amuril shook his head. "Only one thing, a book which was hidden years ago, before I was even born, by my teacher when he was a young man. This book has both the power to save and to destroy and he must not get it."

"How will we keep him from doing so?"

"This is the danger I spoke of, Mendra. You must search for it, no, let me finish," he interrupted her as she opened her mouth to speak. "You know all that I know, but I do know that you do not have the power I do yet. I am to old too get it myself and you, being the only one who has the knowledge, must go and bring it back here when you find it." He squeezed her hand, feeling tears prickle his eyes.

Mendra sat in utter stillness as she absorbed all of which he told her. She knew she was not ready for this, but she had no choice. She had the knowledge, yes, but he was right when he said she was not powerful in her youth. The whole village would be counting on her to save their home, to save it all from dying in the darkness.

"I will do it," she said in a soft whisper, her eyes downcast. She felt her hands being released then arms embracing her.

"I will help you as much as I can. If you have any question during your journey, I will have something so we may communicate. I will not let harm come to you, Mendra. I will also be sending Ralith with you. You will need a good arm to protect you as well."

"But you can’t send him! I do not wish to have him sent into danger like this, Amuril."

Amuril pulled back to stand as straight as he could, frowning as his eyes locked with Mendra’s molten gray eyes. "He was trained to be put in danger, Mendra, you must understand this. I know he is your friend, and once he learns of what you must do, he would insist on accompanying you."

"Is there not someone else?"

Amuril chuckled softly, "Ah Mendra, you are just as stubborn as your mother."

"Amuril, you speak of my mother often as if you had known her well. I know that she died when I was very young, but you never tell me much about her unless you compare her to me."

The elder leaned against the desk as his eyes studied Mendra’s soft features. A weary smile tugged at his thin lips. "I suppose now would be a good time to tell you, though I wish it were not in this case. Your mother was a kind woman, known to many for that trait. She was, like you, a healer, and one of my most dedicated pupils. Many times she would help someone in need, giving rather than taking. That is when she met your father, an injured man at the time. She fell in love with him soon after as she nursed him to health, she rarely left his side."

"What happened to my father?"

"He went off into war as was required of most of the men who were eligible. Not long after his departure, Violia, your mother found herself with child."

Mendra smiled as she repeated her mothers name, though she listened intently to the man who she had come to know so much, to even love like her own grandfather.

"She could barely contain her excitement with that fact and she knew that it would have been a girl, and it was. It was you. Months passed and she continued her work with the village and her studies until the time came when you were born. Still, there was no sign of your father. You were everything to her at that moment, her world revolved around you and solely you. She nursed your wounds when you hurt yourself, sung you to sleep, chasing away your nightmares, and coaxing your wings to free themselves from your back. But one day, the soldiers returned. Your mother was one of the first to them, but they looked at her sadly that day. I stood, watching it all and I knew something was wrong, I felt it." Amuril’s lips turned down into a deep frown.

"Your father died in the war with the orcs. Your mother mourned him greatly, so greatly that she had died in her sleep of a broken heart weeks after. No matter how much she loved you, it was not enough to know that her soul mate had been torn from her reach forever. Her passing pained me deeply, but I took care of you as if you were my own daughter."

Mendra opened her mouth to speak but closed it, letting the silence stretch between them. Never would she have thought that her mother had died of a broken heart, but she knew that once an elf loves, that love is forever. Nothing would come between a love so strong, not even her. This hurt her, but she understood.

"Thank you, Amuril, for telling me."

"You are welcome, my dear."

She paused then tilted her head back to look at Amuril. "When must I leave?"

The pain Mendra saw in his eyes was enough to know he truly loved her.

"On the morrow, before the sun rises."

Mendra nodded in understanding and rose to her feet. "I shall prepare then and rest for the journey."