Prince Nuada's ashes scattered themselves in the wind. Particles of gold dust floated and swirled at the air's ministrations and what should have been the end, was only just the beginning. For in that fateful moment when one ancient chapter began to close, elsewhere in the world, there were other things at work and something evil stirred beneath the small town of Willow's Den, Maine.


Beth wasn't particularly keen on the fact that she had to bike almost thirty minutes to town every day just to get to work, but living off the land was cheap and she didn't have the money to throw down on even the most modest of hovels at the center of town. So as she rode into town that grey morning in October, she reminded herself of her situation and decided that instead of moping about her lack of vehicle and her lack of money, she would simply admire the thick orange and gold foliage that lined the winding road to town. The pavement was damp from the rainfall the evening before and though the sky was grey now, she was confident that she wouldn't have to worry about the rain other than the puddles on the road that caused an occasional spray of water to kick up from the wheels of her bicycle.

Jeez. She was going to be late again and soaked. Not that anyone would care if the diner she worked at opened a bit later than usual. Her boss rarely checked in and when he did, it was always around close when he was on his way to the local watering hole. She'd been waitressing at Joe's since she was sixteen and while the tips were shit, it was enough to add to her meagre savings; the one hope she had of escaping Willow's Den forever and she'd been saving for years.

She turned her bike off the main road, which connected her small cabin-like home to the rest of town, and headed for a worn down path that lead into the forest. The terrain was rougher there, but it was also quicker and while she did like to go biking through the forest on occasion, she really was worried about the state of the sky and questioned whether it wouldn't just open up on her right then and there and pour down atop her mess of brown curly hair. Humidity was the last thing she needed.

As she biked along the path, something shiny caught her eye, so with a bit of hesitation, and the secret hope that whatever she'd just driven past was something highly valuable and, therefore, pawnable, she stopped pedaling and hopped off her trusty bike and leaned it up against a tree. She narrowed her eyes and squinted, bending down a bit as she scanned the leafy area surrounding the path. She spotted it a few feet from where she'd stopped and peered down to find a tarnished gold chain. She leaned forward to pick it up, only to find that it was much longer than she had initially believed it to be. She pulled it up from the ground and kept pulling, feeling sort of like the clown she'd had on her fifth birthday who had pulled yards and yards of colorful cloths out of his sleeve. It appeared to be attached to something, for as she pulled, the chain suddenly went taught and she was forced to brush aside the leaves and peer under them to see what had hindered her from tugging the chain free. Her hands brushed at the leaves and dirt impatiently until suddenly, a hand shot out from the moist earth and latched onto her wrist. She instantly dropped the chain and let out a shriek trying to pull her hand free, though hard as she tried, the fingers remained closed tightly around her wrist and the more she pulled, the more she tugged loose from the ground the arm that the hand was attached to. Finally, the hand let her go and then, something... no... someone, started to rise out of the ground. She dropped the chain and watched as it whipped away from her, wrapping itself around the white arm which had started to claw viciously, desperately at the dirt. It swiped at the ground for awhile and as Beth turned to run screaming for town, she noticed that it seemed to be stuck and that whoever owned it was trapped under mounds of earth.

"Holy fuck," she muttered, edging a little closer. What if whoever was down there was dying? Could she really just leave whoever was struggling down there and let them die? She resolved that she could not and began madly shoveling dirt out of the way.

"It's okay! It's gonna be okay... shit... I've got you!" As she uncovered the earth, she grabbed the hand and felt it wrap itself around her smaller one, gripping tightly as she made to haul whoever was buried beneath the soil out. She used all her strength and grit her teeth, pulling and scrambling in the fallen leaves, and then, with a cry of surprise, she unearthed, of all things, a man. Or at least that's what she thought he was. Though his skin was impossibly white, like smooth marble, and despite the dirt which clung to his long platinum colored hair, she could make out a strong jawline, golden eyes, and dark lips and eyelids.

The man spluttered and coughed as Beth hauled him out of his shallow grave. He hauled himself free of the hole and she lost her balance, letting go of his arm and falling onto her backside. She watched on with wide eyes as the man-thing lay on his front for a long time, breathing heavily, gasping, and choking up dirt. He was, Beth noted with a hot flush in her cheeks, completely naked save for the golden chains circling his wrists. The chains had a prehensile quality to them, and seemed to shift and settle continuous along his arms until they came to rest in the form of strange wristbands around his thick wrists. Beth waited a moment until she realized that he'd gone unconscious, during which she took the liberty of turning him over and brushing the mud and hair back off his forehead before scrambling backwards and peering at him from a safer distance.. She gasped when she looked into his face, for that was not the face of a human, and yet, she recognized an air of power, something strong and yet something fragile. As she watched his chest rise and fall, she crawled on all fours to get a better look at him, curiosity outweighing her sense that told her she should have been running back to town as quickly as she possibly could. His eyes fluttered and she gasped when they opened, their gold irises staring hazily through her, trying to focus and failing. In those eyes were unimaginable sadness, fierceness, pride, and fear. They were beautiful, like crystalized amber.

"Where... filthy... mortal..." And with those eloquent words, his eyes closed again and, save for the rise and fall of his chest, he did not move.

"Fucking elves," Beth muttered angrily.