Echoes of the Past

The hearth in Thalion’s cottage crackled softly, casting a warm glow across the wooden table where Akira, Elara, Hana, Fenwick, Liora, and Miren sat, their clay cups filled with moonberry juice, its tart sweetness lingering in the air. The scent of dried herbs and old parchment filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of froststrawberry tarts cooling on a tray. Outside, Greenwood’s starbloom grove shimmered under the evening sky, its silver petals swaying in the breeze. Thalion’s voice, steady but heavy with memory, broke the quiet, drawing all eyes to him.

“Before we discuss the trade further, Akira, Hana,” Thalion began, his silver hair catching the firelight, “you need to understand why trust with humans is so fragile. 400 years ago, Arathia was a land of harmony. Elves, dwarves, gnomes, and humans lived side by side. We traded freely—elven starblooms for dwarven iron, gnome glass for human grains. If a village faced drought or blight, we helped one another. It was a time of peace, a golden age.”

Akira leaned forward, his dark eyes intent. “What changed?”

Thalion’s gaze grew distant, his fingers tracing the edge of his scroll. “Caesar Louis, the 5th king. When he became king of the human realm, everything shifted. His ancestors had banned slavery, a practice we all abhorred. His father upheld that ban, fostering goodwill. But Caesar Louis was different. He craved dominion, not just over humans but over all races. He believed humans were superior, destined to rule.”

Hana's hand tightened on Elara’s, her brown eyes narrowing. “Rule? How could he think that after centuries of peace?”

Thalion sighed, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Greed, pride—Caesar Louis saw other races as tools. He lifted the ban on slavery, and his people began kidnapping elves, especially children, who couldn’t resist. Elves were prized for their beauty and their connection to the Forest Heart, which grants them long lives. A human could buy an elf child, use them for labor or status, and pass them to their heirs when they died. It was a cruel cycle.”

Hana’s face paled, her hands gripping her cup. “Children? That’s monstrous.”

Fenwick, his green cap resting on the table, spoke up, his voice bitter. “It wasn’t just elves. Gnomes were taken, too. They forced us to craft—lanterns, glass caps, plates, windowpanes, decorations for their grand halls. We worked without rest, day and night. Our magic is our life force; we need rest to restore it. Without it, crafting drained us, turned our lives into fuel for their trinkets. Many gnomes died, their light snuffed out.”

Akira’s jaw clenched, his voice low. “They used your lives for glass?”

Fenwick nodded, his eyes hard. “Every piece we made cost us. Caesar Louis didn’t care. To him, we were disposable.”

Thalion’s voice grew graver. “Dwarves weren’t spared, though they were harder to kidnap—too strong, too stubborn. So Caesar Louis lured them to Stonehaven, his capital, with promises of wealth and trade. Many went, hoping to forge alliances, only to find themselves bound by contracts they couldn’t escape.”

Miren’s bracelet glinted as she leaned forward, her voice trembling. “How could one king cause so much pain?”

Thalion’s eyes met hers, heavy with memory. “He had help. A sorcerer in his court, a man named Valthor, uncovered a secret about the Forest Heart. It binds elves to the land, granting them longevity, and he believed it could also extend human lives. Caesar Louis summoned the leaders of every elven clan, offering a deal: connect him to the Forest Heart, and he’d free their enslaved kin, vowing never to attack their clans again.”

Miren’s breath caught, her moonbloom braid tilting. “What did the leaders say?”

Thalion’s voice softened. “They refused. Every one of them. The Forest Heart is sacred; to bind a human like Caesar Louis, driven by greed, would corrupt it. That was when I became Greenwood’s leader, Miren. We—elves, dwarves, gnomes—united against him. The elders of every clan, from Greenwood to Glimmerfen to the dwarven forges, declared war.”

Akira’s heart pounded, his voice barely a whisper. “So, that's how the war starts.”

Thalion nodded. “For three years, we fought. Villages burned, fields withered, but we stood together. Your parents, Elara—Aeloria and Vaelar—fought beside me. They were fearless, their druidic magic a shield for our people. In the final battle, they faced Caesar Louis himself. It was Aeloria’s blade and Vaelar’s spell that ended him, freeing Arathia from his tyranny.”

Elara’s eyes widened, tears brimming. “My parents… killed him? You told me about the war, elder, but never told me about that.”

Thalion’s expression softened, his voice gentle. “They asked me not to. Before they left to seal the rift—a mission they never returned from—they made us promise to let you live free of their shadow, to have a normal life. We honored that, Elara, keeping their heroism quiet so you could grow without that weight.”

Elara’s tears spilled over, her voice breaking. “I knew they were the heroes of Greenwood. But I never knew they saved all of us, all the races, from great danger.”

Hana rose, wrapping her arms around Elara, her own eyes glistening. “Oh, my dear,” she murmured, stroking Elara’s silver hair. “They loved you so much. They wanted you to find your own path, and you have—such a beautiful one.”

Elara clung to her, her sobs softening in Hana’s embrace, their bond a quiet strength in the room’s heavy silence. Miren wiped her eyes, and Liora squeezed her hand, their faces reflecting the shared grief. Akira’s throat tightened, his vision blurring. “I never imagined,” he said, his voice thick. “This world—so beautiful, but so scarred.”

Elara turned to him, her tear-streaked face softening. She reached for him, pulling him into a hug, her warmth steadying him. “It’s not your fault, Akira,” she whispered. “You’re not that past. You’re here, with us, making things better.”

Thalion’s voice broke the moment, calm but resolute. “After Caesar Louis fell, his son, Marcus Louis, took the throne. He tried to mend his father’s wrongs, freeing slaves, rebuilding trust. But the damage was done. He spent his entire reign trying to atone for his father’s sins, to make amends. But the trust was shattered, the wounds too deep. We withdrew. Elves, gnomes, dwarves—we severed contact with humans, retreating to our lands. That’s why trust is so hard, even now.”

Fenwick nodded, his voice low. “Glimmerfen still tells those stories. Every cracked lantern reminds us.”

Akira wiped his eyes, his voice steadying. “I’m human, but I’d never—Greenwood’s my home. I want to help, Fenwick, all of you.”

Fenwick’s gaze softened, studying Akira. “I see that. You’re not like Caesar Louis. Maybe… maybe trust can start with you.”

Meanwhile, in Stonehaven, the human capital of Arathia, the sun dipped below towering stone walls, casting long shadows across the palace’s marble halls. Torches flickered, their light dancing on intricate tapestries depicting forgotten alliances. Garrick Louis strode through the corridors, his travel-worn cloak dusty from Havenbrook, his dark hair tousled, but his eyes bright with purpose. He entered a room, where his brother, King Julius Louis, stood by a window overlooking the city, his crown glinting faintly, his expression weary but warm.

“Garrick!” Julius called, turning with a smile. “Brother, you’re back. How was Havenbrook?”

Garrick unclasped his cloak, tossing it over a chair, his voice lively. “This time, something extraordinary happened, Julius. The market was alive, but I met someone… unexpected. A human!”

Julius’s brow arched, his interest waning. “A human? What’s so special about that? Havenbrook’s full of them, and I meet several every day, Garrick. They are notoriously common.”

Garrick grinned, undeterred. “Not just any human. He is a human living in Greenwood. Married to an elf. Accepted by them, from what I could tell. He came to trade for a house for plants, something to grow crops year-round.”

Julius stepped back, as if pushed by the force of the statement, his face a mask of shock, his crown tilting slightly. “Greenwood? Married to an elf? That’s… impossible. Greenwood’s hatred for us is legendary, and every single human knows about it. Greenwood suffered most in the war—elves there despise humans. How did he gain their trust?”

Garrick shrugged, his eyes gleaming. “I don’t know, but he has. His name’s Akira Sato. He’s kind, sharp, and doesn’t carry the arrogance of our ancestors or humans have. His wife, Elara Sato, is a druid, I think. They’re building something new in Greenwood.”

Julius paced, his boots echoing on the marble. “A human accepted in Greenwood… that’s a crack in the wall between us. If he’s earned their trust, maybe we could, too. Trade with Greenwood—imagine it. If we can trade with them, then all other elf clans, dwarves, and gnomes also trade with us because Greenwood heroes who killed that piece of shit and saved all the other races. ”

Garrick’s smile faded, his voice cautious. “I wouldn’t hope too much, brother. They’re wary of us, and for good reason. 400 Years haven’t erased Caesar Louis’s shadow. That human Akira seems to be a singular exception.”

Julius’s jaw tightened, frustration flashing in his eyes. “400 years, and they still hold it against us? We’re not our great-grandfather. I’ve spent my reign rebuilding, offering peace.” Julius clapped his brother on the shoulder, shifting gears. “Now, to the pressing matter. The crops. Did you find anyone in Havenbrook who can help us manage the yield? The waste is becoming a crisis.”

Garrick nodded, his tone steady. “No. No one will work for the crown. The memory of the war may be history to us, but to them, it is a living scar. They remember the gnomes who were worked to death for the royal families. They will not help us. Still, there’s hope. Akira—he knows farming better than most. If anyone can help with our surplus—our fields are overflowing, wasting food while others starve—it’s him who can help us.”

Julius’s fist clenched. “400 years! How long must we pay for the crimes of a madman? And this Akira… he could manage our crops?”

Garrick nodded. “He’s got knowledge I’ve never seen—ways that he used. And he doesn’t judge. He sees people, not races.”

Julius’s lips curved in a thoughtful smile, his voice low. “Then I need to meet him. If Greenwood accepts him, he’s a bridge we can’t ignore.” He paused, his gaze distant, as if weighing a plan he wasn’t ready to share. “But first, we focus on the crops. Find him, Garrick. Bring him here.”

Garrick hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll try. But Greenwood won’t welcome us easily.”

Back in Greenwood, the fire in Thalion’s cottage had died to embers, the room quiet as the group dispersed. Akira and Elara walked home under the starlit sky, their hands entwined, the weight of the past settling over them. The starbloom grove glowed faintly, its beauty a stark contrast to the dark history they’d learned. Akira’s heart was heavy, his mind replaying Thalion’s words—slavery, war, betrayal. Even on Earth, humans had scarred their world with greed and conflict.

“No matter the world,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, “humans seem to be the worst.”

Elara squeezed his hand, her green eyes soft but firm. “Not you, Akira. You’re proof that things can change. We’ll build a better future—together.”

He met her gaze, her warmth easing the ache in his chest. With her, Greenwood, and the promise of new bonds, he dared to believe she was right.