Hi welcome back! I know the prologue was short. It was supposed to be! My chapters will of course be much longer. I enjoy the reviews! Stay tuned!

- Cricket

Also, a big thanks to my friend Mike who helped me out with the plot and names! I OWE YOU MIKE. Varg is his character that I had in the story. The least I could do for his awesome help!

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Chapter One.

Exile

The sounds of the Market was almost deafening. Merchants screamed at each other in different dialects, yelling at buyers to view their goods.

"Fresh Fish! Good Fish!"

"Wholesome bread, fruits the like!"

"Silks of the finest material! Good for a nice dinner with the in-laws or a courtly outfit for your wife!"

A figure among the colorful crows was clad in all-black. A hood, tunic, cloak, breeches and boots. The only color was the golden chord around his waist. Molten bronze eyes glared out from beneath it as the figure made its way among the venders and buyers. They soon found themself among the slavers, buying and dealing trades. The figure was male, and his skin marble-white. White hair hanging down to his jaw-line slipped from his hood. Two slavers began to shout at each other about cheatings. He turned around to the cages of slaves. Different shapes and sizes of them stood. Some in rags, other in finer clothings. The crowd around him pressed closer to the two arguing merchants, and to the platform in which slaves were being shown. He saw a human man of good size, well-muscled and strong. The auctioneer shouted his age and skills to the buyers. The elf-man sneered with disgust.

Humans. If not slaves to greed, they are slaves to everyone else.

He stepped back against the bars of one seemingly empty cage as the crowd thickened and bids were called. He felt something tug his arm. In his own defense, the elf spun around to see the culprit for such a crime. A little girl, her cheeks smeared with dirt and stained with tear streaks looked up at him. Her dark eyes were filled with hope. For once in his life, the pale elf felt a pang of regret for this poor child. He reached his hand through the bar and wiped the bit of dirt away from her cheek with his thumb.
"I am sorry, little one." He spoke calmly. The little girl smiled at him and patted his cheek, as if forgiving him.

Unable to stay any longer with the regret, the elf man left the poor child behind. He closed his eyes briefly, a flash of a different life forming up. A young elvish princess looking identical to him sat infront of an elegant mirror-desk. The princess stared at her reflection in disbelief for a moment.
"Nuala," he murmured softly. How he missed his twin so. The elvish princess tilted her head, gold eyes filling with sadness.
"I miss you aswell, my brother," she spoke to her reflection. The elf prince opened his eyes.

It was then that he remembered he was in Exile, and had to leave the familiar lands of his home. Nuada's heart longed to be back home asleep in his bedchambers. He then remembered his vow. Only to return when he people needed him most. Nuada left the market after gathering his supplies and a swift elven steed. The large dapple grey waited impatiently outside for him. Once mounted and situated he lightly tapped the stallion's sides with his heels and started off into a comfortable hand-gallop. His plan was to move westward to the white forests of Avalbane. There he would live in Exile for however long need be. The wind stripped the hood from his head, white hair billowing like a silk banner. Each long stride of the stallion took him further from his home.

Nuada's heart ached for the very first time in his young life.

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The evening sun gave off a redish-gold glow on the old white ruins of a once prosperous city. Vines and plants varying in different shades and hues of green grew over the columns and white cobblestone. Little white flowers of morning glories began to slowly curl in for the night ahead. A clear blue river ran through the city just before the main courtyard. A giant round mirror like portal rotated painfully slow. Despite the red glow of the setting sun, its color did not change. The soft and shimmery periwinkle blue contrasted greatly. A face carved into the side of the large coin-figure stared out with peaceful silver-blue carved lines. The eyes gave a sleepy expression. The same silvery-blue as the carvings that defined the face more. A portal once opened to the Gods and Humans alike. Long ago. Three pedestals stood equally apart with three different weapons on each. The first, a long silver two-handed flamberge with a blood red gem at the base. The second, a more wicked looking blade with serated dragons teeth on the other side. The hilt was made from a very rare bone. The third was pure white, almost mother-of-pearl, curved elegantly. Its hilt was ivory with ivy carved into it beautifully.

A man stood on the other side of the river, opposite to the main courtyard. He was tall and well muscled, his appearance screaming a true warrior. His long brown hair was braided, each braid tied with leather. Clear blue eyes surveyed his surroundings. In the sun, his dark skin looked bronze. His celtic warpaint seemed to glow and his armor of leather gleamed. On his back a long cloak of black feathers shined like amethysts in the slowly setting sun. A raven perched on his right shoulder. A strong stubble grew over his cheek bones and chin.

"Cheris!" His voice bellowed out clear as a bell despite his rough appearance.

"I am here, Varg, What is it you wish?" A calming female voice assured the male known as Varg. Stepping from the courtyard's walls to the edge of the small river was a woman, a half foot smaller than him, give or take few inches. Her form was not lithe nor overmuscled. An average form, with long dark brown curls of hair reaching her waist. Dark than her male companion's by man shades. She regarded him with honey-hazel eyes that were both young and wise at the same time. Her face seemed almost ageless, neither young nor old. Her clothes were simple. A dark blue tunic and baggy breeches. She wore no shoes.

"Just for company and someone to talk with. I have been lonely since Scathach died."
"You are welcome here, friend." She beckoned him across the river to join her in the court yard of Peace. There they both surveyed the three weapons.
"Still here after all this time." Varg said softly.

The woman nodded and followed the slow rotation of the portal. Its calming face followed her as she stepped.
"Tell me. Has the Golden Army fallen?"
Varg scratched his head and looked at her.
"More or less. They lie Dormant under the earth."
"So King Balor saw sense in his mistake." Cheris said thoughtfully.

Varg shrugged and followed her in an opposite direction.
"The slower the symbol becomes, the closer another great war will come. And the sooner I will die. It is creeping along slowly..." Cheris's voice was lowered to a painfully soft tone. Varg frowned, stroking his raven companion, Mimir.
"How fairs your city of Skye?"

Varg shrugged again,"It is well enough. Quiet then again. The Morrigan herself has come to visit me now and then."
Cheris smiled and stepped out of line, standing by the back fountain that no longer flowed with water.
"Of course. You are her champion... You must tell her I miss her very much so."
"It is noted... The sun sets. I make my leave. I will return to keep you company, Cheris."

The woman simply nodded as the man faded into the shadows of the set sun.

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For two full weeks Nuada road at a steady pace without stopping. Both mount and rider could go on for a few more days without rest or food. Nuada felt it would be cruel to work his mount harder. He dismounted by a small stream and both of them drank heartily. The elven Prince stretched for about an hour or so. By then the crescent moon shown through the sky. Three more days until the full moon. By then, the forest Avalbane would shine brighter and be easier to spot when he arrived. He unsaddled the stallion and made sure he had a good rub-down before letting him graze. The elf prince sighed and sat down in the very soft grass. He could have slept their for days. Instead he lay there, arms under his head, looking at the sky. Stars glittered across the sky. Closing his eyes only for a brief moment, Nuada thought back of his home-No- it would only bring more heart ache.

When he heard a slump, he sat up only to see his mount lying in the grass next to him. Nuada laughed softly and stroked the soft mane,"Good horse." The stallion snorted once at him before resting his head down like a dog. Nuada did not sleep at all that night. By the time he saw the sky fade from dark blue to purple to yellow-orange, he had already saddled and left to start off again to Avalbane. He passed through half the day going over hills and the moors. Then the next part they traveled through the murky Emeral Marshes near the ancient Troll-king cities. Woodlands faded into meadows. He could see the white caps of mountains in the near distances. Meadows soon reverted back to forests. The elven prince never grew tired of the landscapes. The lush greens and exotic flowers were refreshing from the constant golds and reds of his own homeland.

For two more days he rode on. The third night the sky threatened a storm and he took the shelter of a nearby cave, once inhabited by bears or so he thought. The rain did not last for more than three hours. As soon as he saw the moon shine through the violet clouds. As he slowed the horse into a steady canter across an open field, Nuada briefly glanced up. The moon's glow was veiled behind a thin wall of clouds... A gale sifted through the tall grasses, scattering wet dew and water from the previous rain everywhere. The clouds shifted and the full moon's glow danced across the field. The beads of water flickered and looked as though small diamonds and crystals were scattered throughout the plane. Everything lit up with a soft white glow. The Prince then looked to the source of the glow, halting his mount to a dead stop. The forest lay before him, the trees taller than any he had seen before. They resembled the Moon herself, white and glowing in an ethereal beauty.

Oh my sister if only you could see this... Nuada suddenly felt his sister's presence in his mind.
I can, Nuada. It is beautiful...

With a small smile, Nuada continued on at a gentle walk. He entered the glowing forests and finally understood how it recieved its name.

Avalbane... The white orchards. A leaf made of pure silver fell from over head, caressing against his cheek before falling completely to the ground. So much beauty untouched by the taint of human hands... Nuada felt a refreshing wave come over him. Everything was calm in the forest, almost eerily calm. Nuada wondered if the animals could sleep in the brilliant lights glowing around them, or if they ventured elsewhere or if there were any signs of life at all. Another leaf fell. The prince felt his hackles rise. His mount felt his master's sudden unease and he too was stepping lightly and alert.

As they pressed on the trees began to lose their luster. Leaves began to drop faster, and soon Nuada saw that the part of the forest he was in was completely blackened. A stench intruded his nostrils and he coughed with surprise. His horse began to get even more nervous beneath him. He spoke soothing words to the stallion, stroking his neck and whithers constantly. Something was wrong. It practically screamed out at him to turn away, run, leave.

He continued on, unable to look away from the dead trees. This is wrong. The trees were said to be ever-lasting. Why now are they dying?

The stench continued to grow. To prevent himself from wretching, Nuada covered his sensitive nose with a piece of cloth. His mount stopped.
Out of the brush flew a foreign figure. Nuada had heard tales of the drow elves. Their skin would be black as ebony, and hair ranging from black all the way to the palest whites. He thought them to be strong, graceful and excellent fighters with beautiful physique. These drow were different in everyway possible. Their ebony skin was covered with boils, sores and rashes oozing and leaking with putrid liquids and puss. Nuada once more felt his stomach clench up at the very sight of the hideous things. The drow from the brush had a weapon which sliced through the fabric of Nuada's clothing down to the flesh. It left a diagonal cut across his chest. At first the wound stung like any other one would. His golden blood soon turned to horrible green and began to bubble. It burned.

To defend himself, Nuada pulled out his own weapon, now becoming a warrior. His mount reared up and cried in challenge to the attackers. Another drow, like the first, was covered with boils and blemishes. Nuada and stallion fought them as more and more came out. Another slash hit him in the side. The same blood turned green and boiled and burned. He had to get away from them or he would surely be done for. He strength was slowly diminishing as he kicked the horse in the sides to send him off into a safer direction. The Drows persued him. The Prince's vision was darkening and the pain was taking over, like an intense wild fire over every nerve of his very being.

He did not know how long his stallion had raced. The dead stop sent him tumbling off and into a soft patch of grass by a stone wall. Through blurred vision someone stood over him.
"Please," he uttered softly,"Help..."

His world then went black.

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End Chapter One.