Caledon Brimstone watched entranced, as the nobles around him danced and reveled. He smiled at the sight, raising a cup to his lips that he only just realised he held in his hand. He drank deeply from the golden liquid in his cup, enjoying the melding of sweetness and spice.

  Highlady Solastra Flora’s mansion was a mansion only in name. Situated in the city of Viridian, at the heart of the Dreadwood, it was surrounded by the Highlady’s personal gardens.

  The structure was nothing like his home, or any other noble’s abode that he had visited. It was constructed from sweeping white stone, and featured open walkways which allowed you to peer down into the floors below, filled with revelers. The open-concept gave him an unimpeded view of the gardens that surrounded the mansion. Leaning against the balcony’s edge, he peered out from behind hanging ivy, into the beautiful garden.

  One might envision that Solastra, a Fearshaper at the height of her powers would have adorned her garden with all sorts of wonders and mysteries of the natural world. Caledon had heard people speak of the Dreadwood with awe and reverence. Sections of the woods shrouded in eternal night, others calling lightning and thunder down into foliage that fed off the bolts of energy. The creatures that roamed the woods, as mystical as the ecosystems around them.

  Instead, the gardens around him, as beautiful as they were, sported a single distinctive feature.

  Black roses, the edges of their petals lined in bright gold that contrasted elegantly against the petals of void. It was as if the flower had been crafted for the sole purpose of capturing a dark, solemn beauty.

  Caledon’s thoughts were punctuated by the nasal voices of two young men before him.

  “My lady, would you care for a walk?”

  “Bugger off you scoundrel! I was speaking to her first!”

  Caledon chuckled at the familiar scene, his sister Viveria rolling her eyes at the young nobles who had the misfortune of pining after her.

  Compared to the ladies around her, Viveria was dressed simply – with leather riding trousers, and an elegant white shirt tucked into them, with a sleek, unfamiliar rapier by her side. The other ladies that partook in the revelry sported elegant dresses with frills and other ornaments. Caledon personally appreciated the more minimalistic style of dress, that did not reflect its wearer’s yearning for attention.

  Hmm, when did she get that rapier crafted? That’s some excellent smithing.

  Viveria took a sip from her cup, and Caledon couldn’t help but tease her.

  “That’s unlike you, taking to the drink. Can’t handle their enthusiasm?”

  His sister rolled her eyes, ignoring her suitors, who gaped wordlessly at Caledon’s words. The siblings were treating them as if they were ants on the wall, creatures far beneath their notice.

  “Says you. Whatever’s in this drink, it’s good. Those idiots should share in their “enthusiasm” and leave me out of it. They would make an excellent pairing.”

  She tugged at his arm, heedless of the young men that scoffed at her rude words. They left in a huff, finding solace in one another at the lady’s harsh rebuttal of their advances. Viveria’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as she met his gaze, and pointed at the trees that rose beyond the garden surrounding the mansion.

  “Let’s go find some real excitement. We’re in the Dreadwood! I’ll be Feardamned if I let this chance slip away from me. Have you heard of the creatures that roam forests? The forests themselves?”

  His sister lowered her voice conspiratorially, eyes burning with mischief.

  “It’s been said that Highlady Flora even managed to find and revive extinct species. What creatures do you think lie within Cally? The worst part-“

  She gestured to the forest that bordered the mansion at a distance, encircling it.

  “It’s just outside our reach. Please, mother and father don’t have to find out! We’ll be back before anyone notices. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be kept busy by diplomacy and trade deals.”

  His sister’s words did stir excitement within him. He felt a pang of emotion in his chest.

  From their vantage point, Caledon couldn’t see over the trees that bordered the mansion at a distance. But he had heard stories of Highlady Solastra Flora’s actual garden – the legendary Dreadwood.

  The Archcity of Life.

  What Viveria had said was true. Her forests were rumoured to house unbelievable creatures, thought to have walked Elucidor since the beginning of time. Countless hunters in search of riches had disappeared within its depths, never to be seen again. His mind inevitably turned to his father’s guide, Sale – from which he had obtained his moniker, the Herald of the Eternal Phoenix.

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  I wonder if phoenixes fly these forests. I miss you, Sale.

  “All that wonder out there, and here I am stuck with these filthy animals. Let’s go, Cally.”

  Before Caledon could protest, Viveria slipped away from him, disappearing into the mass of roiling nobles in the midst of their revelry.

  “Vivy! Feardamnit.”

  So much for making sure his sister stayed out of mischief.

  An impossible task on a good day.

  He desperately chased her, whispering apologies to the elves that he bumped as he maneuvered through them.

  Then, his heart skipped a beat as he felt a chill kiss the nape of his neck. His hand shout outwards, touching it, searching for the source of the cold. He glanced around at the elves around him but found nothing amiss.

  Strange. It’s certainly drafty in here.

  He followed his sister as she descended the mansions stairs, making for the garden. Mercifully, she drew to a halt, as she was drawn by a duel being held between two young men.

  “Viv, don’t you dare. Mother is going to roast you if you join in.”

  Caledon’s eyes fell to his sister’s side, where he saw her hands hover over her own rapier, itching to draw it and jump into the midst.

  “Shush! Let’s watch.”

  They watched as the elves circled each other, surrounded by onlookers, breaths held in anticipation. One of the elves was tall, well built, and wielded an elegant, dark rapier. Strangely, it seemed to be made of black wood. Caledon’s eyes widened as it passed over the masterwork. He suspected it was wrought from ebonwood, obtained from the legendary Shadow Woods. The section of the Dreadwood eternally shrouded in shadow, as its name suggested.

  His opponent wore an easy grin under an oiled moustache and bright green and yellow garb. The aesthetic sensibilities of the nobility never ceased to abhor him.

  He's flashy. A little arrogant. Full of open-

  In the blink of an eye, the elf with the ebonwood rapier lashed out, and Caledon’s eyes widened as he watched the flesh on his opponent’s cheek part in three places.

  That was faster than he could follow.

  Viveria was almost shivering with excitement.

  “Cally did you see that? He would give father a run for his money!”

  His opponent fell to the ground in a yelp, scrambling backwards, bright clothes marked with flecks of blood from the wound that opened across his cheek. No doubt, the noble would be boasting about the scar – if any had been left – in no time at all.

  “I yield! I yield! Mercy!”

  One of the manor’s attendants appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, helping the elf to his feet with a touch of familiarity.

  “There, there Lord Ulis. Your opponent was certainly formidable. Let us tend to that cut and put a drink in your hands, what do you say?”

  The elf visibly relaxed and nodded with enthusiasm, being guided away from his opponent, the servant promptly placing a drink in his empty hand as he nursed his wound with his other. Without missing a beat, Viveria swiftly pushed past the elves that began to approach the victor of the clash.

  “Where did you learn to fight? That slash was so quick I couldn’t even follow it! It looked like one blow, but you inflicted three wounds – how did you do that? Oh, I’m Viveria, Viveria Brimstone.”

  Viveria spoke animatedly with the wielder of the ebonwood rapier. The lord shot him a smile, and nodded along silently at his sister’s display of enthusiasm at their clash.

  Caledon couldn’t help but pity the man. It was impossible to get a word in once his sister started really talking.

  Hmm he seems like a good sort. Certainly doesn’t have to have the same intentions as those other nobles.

  Watching his sister laughing and speaking enthusiastically with the tall elf, he decided that he would take full advantage of the brief reprieve he had been granted.

  Caledon decided to check on his parents.

  He was fairly certain that Viveria wasn’t going to be running headfirst into the Dreadwood when she was so caught up in conversations about a fight. Or attempting to spar with the victor, having glimpsed his proficiency with the blade. A trickle of sweat slid down Caledon’s cheek at the thought of it.

  Fairly certain.

  ---

  Caledon sipped from his cup, enjoying the sweetness and spice of his drink. He had searched the second and third floors of the mansion unsuccessfully, with no sign of his mother or father.

  It wasn’t that much of a surprise. They were likely in the midst of discussions with the leaders of the noble houses, brokering trade and other agreements. He supposed he would be left to his own devices for the time being. Brimstone relied heavily on House Flora for their produce, seeing as they were situated in the heart of the winterlands.

  Caledon felt goosebumps erupt along his arms as a light chill reached him again. He looked around him, eyeing elves both young and old socialising. Treating themselves generously to the drink and food.

  Then he winced as an elf bumped into him while still preoccupied with his thoughts.

  “Oh, pardon me-“

  The elf was garbed in an elegant armour of twisting root. A Knight of the Dreadwood – Highlady Solastra Flora’s honourguard.

  The elf turned to him with a sneer. Caledon’s eyes involuntarily traced the scar on the elf’s neck, as well as the tender red skin that flaked from his face – as if raw from a recent burn. A nasal voice greeted him, in stark contradiction to regality of his garb.

  “Watch it- oh.”

  When the elf met Caledon’s eyes, he halted in his tracks.

  Caledon braced himself for what he knew to be coming. Men like this strutted about wearing their nobility as a symbol to feed their petty ego. Ego, was certainly easy to pick out. Especially when it screamed at him as much as it did from every gesture and expression of this man.

  Caledon prepared himself for a rebuke.

  “Forgive me, my lord, it was my mistake.”

  The man fell into a very deep bow before him, as if supplicating himself before him. Caledon’s cheeks coloured at the sight, and he shut his hanging jaw, collecting himself. Yet he didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm – the man wasn’t seeking to ridicule him.

  “No, please forgive me sir – I should have taken greater care with my surroundings.”

  The man dignified Caledon’s response with a generous bow, and returned to his conversation with the woman beside him.

  What was that? I was sure that he was going to insult me. Guess I was mistaken.

  He inclined his head slightly, moving past him.

  His head began to throb, and he clenched his eyes shut.

  Caledon frowned.

  What an intriguing day.