Page 4 of A Love of Wrath and Rapture

Without warning, Gonak appears before me. He takes on a similar appearance as mine, but his claws are longer, sharper, and teeming with blood. Barking out a laugh, Gonak moves to place his hand on my shoulder, but his hand completely passes through my body. Yet, he is unfazed.

“What a great catch, Xeros. We must bring this back to the others,” he says, reaching down to scoop up the horned creature I struck down with a few swipes of my claws.

I reach forward, wishing that I could touch him to once again feel the comfort of a friend, but I fall through the illusion… wondering if I will ever feel touch again.

If I don’t find something to keep me anchored, I might give up. It doesn’t matter if it’s the silky and rough feel of the leaves or the smooth embrace of the water’s surface.

Is this truly the punishment I deserve?

For the dark elves, it was. And they nearly wiped us off the face of Protheka for questioning their power.

Their magic proved too much to counter. They surprised us with their tenacity and strength, they overwhelmed us with their numbers, and in the end, they almost succeeded in sending us to the brink of extinction.

“Am I truly the only one left?” I ask the world around me, as Gonak fades away into dust. “Is there none of my kind left? Have they all been killed by the dark elves?”

As if to provide me with a cruel answer, the world morphs yet again. This time, it is not the peaceful expanse of land that I like conjuring up for myself. Instead, this is a battlefield. The bodies of other Astreldi lay in crumpled, defeated heaps around me.

The dark elves in the distance stand proud and strong, looming over the destruction like gods scrutinizing their subjects. They utter incantations strong enough to rip the wings off of our backs. When we charge, they shoot us back with ease.

Nearby, I recognize the face of Hilik. The image of his corpse remains burned into my memories. His right wing was completely ripped away from his body. His lower jaw… I don’t know where it is anymore. And his eyes were open when he died.

“Perhaps death is a better fate than this,” I say, sending a glance over my shoulder to peer at the dark elves who retreat from the carnage with their dignity intact. “Why was I condemned to live and remember what once was of my kind?”

We will never again reach the levels of prosperity we once did. There’s only one of me, but there’s too many of them. Far too many to take down by myself.

Even if I tried, it would never work. The dark elves are an unforgiving bunch, and they will reign terror on any being who dares question their power over the rest.

Again, the dreamscape changes. It works with my mind in a strange way. Whenever a strong enough image courses through my memories, the world changes in response.

This time, I’m forced to see another painful memory. In front of me, Dila stands with her wings outstretched and her eyes resting upon me. When I reach out, unsurprisingly, my hands pass through her body and her gaze doesn’t follow me.

It’s been so long since I last saw her. As the years come and go, some of my memories have begun to fade away. Her face doesn’t look as detailed this time around. Her wings do not look as brilliant as mine do.

That’s because she’s been long dead.

“Xeros, you flatter me with all your words of praise,” she says, turning away. “Perhaps, we can talk more about our relationship when I’m ready. I have much to think about right now.”

That conversation never happened. The Astreldi launched a surprise attack on the dark elves soon thereafter, which pulled all of us into an unnecessary war. Every adult Astreldi fought in the war. But once the dark elves secured their victory, they made sure that our race would never recover.

I suppose I was left behind to serve as a living reminder of their cruelty, a reminder of what the dark elves are capable of doing to those they consider the enemy.

I don’t want Dila to fade away. Reaching out to her, I call out her name and beg for her to stay. My mind tries to will it into existence, but nothing works. She sends me one last longing look before she disappears, fading away like Gonak and Hilik did.

My fists clench. I nearly stumble over my own feet, trying to reach her disappearing form. A desperate yowl escapes my chest as I launch myself up into the dark, blank sky. My wings flap loudly as I fly aimlessly from place to place, wondering what image I should conjure up next.

This does nothing to satisfy me or bring me peace. No, it does the exact opposite. It reminds me of all the failures that I’ve endured. The shortcomings of the Astreldi. I can only mourn what once was, while my troubled existence tries to find solace in my loneliness.

“Perhaps there is a way to achieve death here,” I wonder. “If I conjure up a sword… Or what if I find some poison to take? Will that free me?”

Despite the numerous ideas that pass through my mind, nothing works. I cannot grab the end of a sword to plunge it through my chest. Nor can I pop open a bottle of the most potent poison to trickle down the length of my throat. No creature I envision can come and rip my body to shreds. No dark elf can hit me with a bolt of magic, eradicating me like the rest of my kind.

Eventually, I find rest near a body of water. I land on my feet and gaze down at the ripples. There’s no reflection looking back up at me.

“If I’ve been alive for this long, there must be a reason for that,” I say, staring up at the daytime sky. Trees extend far above me, moving gently with the wind. Animals cry out, echoing through the forest I find myself in. “I must be given a second chance one day.”

This slumber cannot last forever. Something will wake me up. Something will breathe a new life into me, one that was stripped from me ages ago.

“Or what if it’s someone?” I whisper, staring into the deep emptiness of the forest around me. “What if someone comes and awakens me? But how? How do I teach them the right words to say? How can I show them where my body is?”

---