Selvida’s Gift

Silas led Leyade along the capital’s cobbled paths. To her, Liarieth seemed like a large village. Everything was built around enormous trees. The houses were like the one where they were staying, emerging from the trunks as though they had grown from the bark itself.

Flowers of every size and colour lined the streets and clustered around the bases of the houses. The enormous leaves of the bark dwellings provided plenty of shade from the sun. Fairies flitted to and fro: some patrolled the streets, others delivered goods from house to house, and some cleaned the surrounding area, while others opened their market stalls or went gathering on the outskirts.

“Do you see this market, Leyade?” Silas asked as he led her into the marketplace in the centre of the city. “The fairies here work together as one. In fact, those stalls over there…” He pointed towards some smaller, simpler stalls, little more than a few boards, two lengths of cloth and crates full of goods. “…belong to fairies from outside the capital. And those over there…” He pointed again, this time towards stalls run by a dryad, a sylph and a centaur, selling unusual vegetables, handicrafts and fabrics. “That section is for other faerie folk from beyond the city.”

Leyade nodded, gazing around in fascination. They stood in a circular courtyard surrounded by stalls offering all manner of goods. The scent of fresh vegetables, bread and spices filled the air, making her stomach rumble.

“As you can see, it’s one big community where all the faerie folk share and trade peacefully, isn’t it?” Silas glanced at her as he approached a stall selling filled rolls. He greeted the stallholder, picked up two and offered what looked like a small bag of berries in exchange.

The centaur running the stall examined the bag and accepted it.

Leyade nodded again.

“Yes, I can see that. It’s peaceful and harmonious… But what does that have to do with what you were going to tell me?” she asked, puzzled.

Silas shook his head, handed her one of the rolls and broke his own in half to share with Elindra, who licked her lips at the sight.

“A long time ago, elven society was like this,” he began, taking a bite of bread. “A long time ago, we lived in peace, Leyade. But it didn’t last.”

“I know a little about that. Apparently, many centuries ago, the moon elves betrayed us, and we split from them,” Leyade replied, biting into her roll.

It was filled with what seemed to be a creamy mixture of fruit and berries. She licked her lips. It was fresh and delicious, the bread soft inside and crisp on the outside.

“This is wonderful!”

“Something like that.” Silas took two wooden cups containing what looked like juice. This time, he offered the fairy at the stall a dark purple herb in exchange. “It happened a little differently. Long ago, when Selvida asked her daughters to watch over us…” He handed Leyade a cup. “…she planted a tree that brought life and magic to the lands of the elves. Back then, moon elves, sun elves… it didn’t matter. We lived as one people. Then, one day, the dark spirits emerged. The sky turned black, red lights appeared in the darkness, smoke covered the land, and violent tremors shook the earth.”

Silas paused to take another bite as he approached a stone bench and sat down.

Leyade watched him, fascinated.

“I knew some of that, but not all of it. A lot of the history has been lost over the years, to be honest.” She sipped the peach juice in her cup, enjoying the taste of fresh fruit. “What happened?”

“The elves used the tree to make weapons,” Elindra answered for him.

The half-elf smiled, took a drink and continued.

“Thank you, Elindra. Yes, the tree was a source of pure, sacred magic. When they saw that their bows and arrows were doing nothing, that people were dying and the fields were burning, they turned to it. Not everyone agreed, but that time, they let it pass.”

Leyade regarded him thoughtfully, swirling the juice in her cup.

“But it didn’t happen just once, did it?”

“No.” Silas nodded slowly. “There were three attacks, but the problem wasn’t how many there were. It was what they led to. Every time the elves used the tree to create those weapons, it lost some of its energy, its magic, the power that gave life to their lands. The tree wasn’t merely sacred: it was the source of life for the land itself. If it were lost, they would lose more than its magic. The land would suffer too, and the weapons they had made from it would cease to work.”

Silas paused briefly.

“The sun elves did not want to keep drawing on its power. They said it was a gift from the goddess Selvida, and that they could not destroy the very thing that sustained their land in order to save it. The moon elves, on the other hand, argued that if Selvida had given them that power, they should use it to protect themselves. What good would preserving it do if the dark spirits killed them all?”

The dispute dragged on, leading to clashes between sun elves and moon elves until they reached the point of no return.

The half-elf sighed, finished his drink and looked straight at Leyade.

“The burning…” she murmured. “They say the moon elves burned it.” Her expression was a mixture of sadness and anger.

“That is the sun elves’ account,” Silas replied. “According to them, the moon elves were looking for a way to obtain enough power quickly to destroy the dark spirits and close the rifts they were emerging from. To do that, they set fire to the tree. They managed to release an enormous amount of its power, but they came close to destroying it.”

Leyade stopped swirling her cup.

“If it had been destroyed…”

“The ramals would have stopped working,” Silas continued. “And that would only have been part of the problem. Remember, the tree was the source of life for the elven lands. They nearly lost the energy sustaining those lands too.”

Elindra sat in his lap, watching a nearby butterfly with hungry eyes.

“But the moon elves deny that it happened that way,” Silas went on. “According to their account, they never burned the tree. They say the sun elves did it to frame them, using the burning as an excuse to break away and seize a greater share of the territory while they had the military advantage.”

“The moon elves have always been liars. It was probably a ploy to make us surrender the tree. What you’re saying might make sense, but it could just as easily be an excuse to make us see them as martyrs.” Leyade shrugged. “But what does any of this have to do with me, apart from learning a little more about my roots?”

The butterfly fluttered closer and settled on Silas’s tunic, right in front of Elindra. She waited, watched, then lunged to bite it.

The butterfly was quicker, leaving Elindra without her snack and dangerously close to tumbling off Silas’s lap.

“You should pay closer attention. Stories tell you more than you think, if you listen…” Silas smiled and shook his head, as though to say, ‘Oh, my dear girl, you have so much to learn.’ “What do you think those weapons were called?” he asked. “I’ll give you a clue: they were made from the tree’s branches.”

Leyade looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments. Then her eyes widened. The pieces of the puzzle began falling into place.

“Don’t tell me they were ramals…” She sprang to her feet, open-mouthed. “I have a ramal,” she said quietly, staring at Silas in astonishment.

“They say that after the burning, the moon elves and sun elves split apart. Ever since, both peoples have blamed each other and claimed those lands as their own. The fighting never entirely stopped, and there are still conflicts along the borders today. Their queens meet, but neither account of the burning has ever been proved.”

Silas paused briefly before continuing.

“The tree was eventually taken to a secret place known only to the direct descendants of Selvida’s daughters: the Queens of the Moon and the Sun. They agreed that both would know its location precisely because neither trusted the other. After what had happened, neither side was willing to let the other control the tree. That is why both queens have access to the place, while the tree itself remains hidden. As long as both know where it is and can keep watch on each other, neither can act behind the other’s back.”

“And the ramals?” Leyade asked. “What happened to them?”

“They say some burned, some disappeared, and other faerie folk hid those they found to prevent a war from threatening their own lands, which lay right in the middle.” The half-elf smiled at her. “And that seems to be how one eventually came into your possession.”

Leyade stared at him in genuine surprise, though there was a trace of concern in her green eyes too.

“Now I understand why so many of the creatures here reacted the way they did,” she murmured. “But wouldn’t it have been easier if someone had told me from the start?” She looked at Silas with a mixture of irritation and confusion.

Silas lifted Elindra with one hand and settled her securely back on his lap before answering with a chuckle.

“Faerie folk aren’t known for being clear or concise, Leyade. They’re cryptic, confusing and very secretive. That’s simply their nature. They draw their own conclusions and have their own ideas and ways of doing things. If they think you’re a threat and don’t understand your intentions, they may decide you’re suspicious or hostile, and deal with you in their own way.” He adjusted his hat. “I’ve ended up in their dungeon twice. I think I’m so irresistible they can’t bear to let me go.”

He gave her a playful wink.

The young elf rolled her eyes, smiling in utter disbelief.

“So I have a sword… from the time of the First War?” she asked again, trying to take in what he had told her.

The half-elf nodded once more with a kind smile.

“That’s right, young elf. The village girl has a ramal from the First War in her hands,” he replied, stroking Elindra’s head with one finger.

Leyade looked down at her cup without speaking. The conversation paused. The silence was long, but not uncomfortable. Leyade was thinking, and Silas had no intention of interrupting or rushing her. At last, she spoke.

“Silas, you say you know Kiany gave it to me willingly, but why would she give something so important to me?” Leyade gestured at herself.

Silas was quiet for a moment, considering his answer.

“As I said before, faerie folk are cryptic, but spirits are even more so. She is like a minor god: a powerful being with her own way of thinking and judging things, which is usually difficult to understand.” He glanced at Leyade, who was watching him with a slightly disappointed expression. “If Kiany gave you the sword, it is because she saw something in you, in your heart. Something that made you worthy of wielding it.”

The young elf nodded, not entirely convinced.

“Well, I don’t feel worthy yet, and I don’t even know how to wield it…” With a long sigh, she looked at Silas, then smiled. “But that will change soon, won’t it? Because I have you.” She pointed at him. “And you’re going to teach me how to use it!”