A/N Another small chapter added. I shall update the story every week on my days off. I have several notebooks filled with the complete part 1. So it really is only a matter of me finding time to type it all up.

Enjoy Elvhenan free-form! And Christmas!

Chapter 4

What happened next could be best described as an interactive 3D film festival, with a bad glitch in the movie data.

I was privy to the highlights of Sylvanavir's life, almost like a biography. To be honest it almost felt like her memories became mine, it simply felt so real. The only problem was the constant 'on' and 'off' of video and audio.

Some memories were skipped and black outs occurred frequently. It made for an entirely dissociative experience.

Mostly I woke to fundamentally different environments.

Once, soft light fell through wispy curtains. The sky outside seemed closer and iridescent. No longer was it blue but many colors shimmered above like the patterns of an oil film.
Before I could take in more of the details my body decided to get up from the bed and land barefoot on a cold stone floor.

I was tiny. Lying in bed it was not as noticeable but while standing upright, all the proportions seemed off. The chairs and tables were taller than me.

This was wrong. Again my body moved independent of my wishes.
With my short little legs I made my way across the room to a giant wardrobe and picked a few clothes.

Smooth leggings and a frilly dress with multiple layers. My adult mind made a face at the indignity of wearing something so diabetes inducing.

Properly dressed I made my way out the door and through a hallway. The walls and floors were covered in stone inlays, mosaics and expensive looking tapestries.
My family was apparently loaded. The journey was interrupted by a young male elf in a dark blue robe with silver threading.

"There you are Sylva. Father and Mother are already away. Your tutors are waiting for you in the Emerald study. Do not be tardy now or mother shall be cross with you."
I was surprised by the feelings of affection I held for this stranger.
We shared a father and mother, which would make this person my brother.

One of my 3 brothers was intuitively added in thought.

"Days blessings brother, I was just on my way there. Thank you for your thoughtful reminder. I will hurry." My mouth replied without my permission and in a voice that was young and trilling like a song bird.

In auto pilot my body bounded up to my brother gave him a quick hug.
A benevolent smile and a pat on my head was all the reaction he would give me before I continued down the hall, a spring in my step.

By now I understood what was going on. I was living through her, Sylva's, memories.

I would not be able to do anything or say anything. My mind was simply going for a very long ride.

The idea of being imprisoned without control over myself or my actions for the next several hundred years was absolutely terrifying. Only the opportunity to obtain a treasure trove of knowledge pacified me slightly.
I could develop an understanding for both her and her society.

During my musings the body (I suppose now my body) walked into a study and talked to several elves in fancy robes.

For the next hours I sat through lectures on politics and proper comportment. I was so focused on my own thoughts, I barely registered my immediate surroundings.

Just as I was about to get super bored I noticed was my surroundings blurring as if someone had submerged a fresh painting in water.
Everything just dissolved.
For a moment I was reminded of the pensive memories in Harry Potter.

Suddenly the entire setting changed.
I was standing in a wide outdoors area doing stretches as per instructions. Somewhere off to my left a stern looking elf in armor scowled at me and barked orders from time to time.
My body switched into a different position after every shout.

The blank spots and time skips happened in unpredictable intervals. Sometimes I would miss a night's sleep, other times I would skip several years.
Many of my early memories included lessons.

Indoors I would learn how to control and use my magic, how to dress properly, how to manage people, finances, politics and so forth.
My personal favorites however would be the lessons outdoors. Gardening and riding lessons and stretches and acrobatics. Later in Sylva's life she and I would receive combat training for swords, glaives and bows. Occasionally father would even allow us to go hunting with some of Andruil's retainers.

My step mother was appalled at my desire for physical exercise and fighting. A lady should be well spoken and invisible and be very well versed in indirect and discrete magic. In her mind I was walking the path that led astray.

Father was strict but fair. As long as I sat through all my theoretical and magic lessons and excelled, he allowed me to indulge in my own interests. He would never admit it but he had a soft spot for me. I was his only daughter after all.

My older brother (whom I adored) was his heir. He was intelligent, well-spoken and possessed a gentle strength that made him very popular with almost anyone he spoke to.

Whenever I had a problem I could go to him.

Father was rarely present and I cultivated a mutual hateful relationship with my stepmother so he was my only constant. I loved him and he loved me. Whenever I had time I would visit him and he would teach me new magic spells or tell me funny stories from his time among the noble court.

I was second eldest and the second child of father's first wife. He named me Sylvanavir. It translated to 'the last breath to take' in a very poetic way. Only later did I find out that I was named Sylvanavir because my mother died of childbirth.

It was extremely rare this happened at all and so it was taken as an ill omen by most of my family. The only exceptions were my father and brother. Father once told me he saw in me all the good and wonderful aspects of my mother. Brother said I was his little baby sister and he would protect me no matter what.

My two younger brothers were twins, another rare occurrence.

They were the sons of my step mother, who instantly gained prestige for birthing twins. And she basked in the attention, always going on about how her sons were destined for greatness. She promised to dedicate them to Dirthamen and Falon'Din respectively, out of deepest respect to them and their twin-bond. It was nauseating.

Father allowed her to manage most of their son's upbringing and in return she would not interfere in my life. A fair deal overall.
However this cease-fire agreement did not apply to my twin menaces. They took every chance they got to belittle or bully me when my father or brother were not around. Once I became a proficient fighter they stopped out of fear of retribution, my childhood looking after them was hellish still.

Living a puppet life felt odd, but soon enough I started to enjoy this world. It was vibrant and full of magic. My new senses were easy to get used to. I could see better, hear more, smell more. As I adapted to my new existence, Sylvanavir became me.

It was simply impossible to live through 700+ years of life and not accept it as your own.

I retained a large portion of my personality. I was simply not as haughty or as bitter as the original Sylva had become over time.

She had a difficult childhood and started to distance herself from courtly life by dedicating herself to the path of the arcane warriors. All her personal frustration was channeled into excelling in her training. Many frowned upon this physical pursuit.

Channeling ones magic inwards to augment your body was simply a sign of incompetence at normal magic to most. Equally as many people had no choice but to respect her position. The honor and integrity of champions and guardians such as Sylva was unquestionable, much like the magical equivalent of a Knight.

Despite her step mothers disdain for her she still used Sylva's station to impress her fellow nobles. For such a purpose she had been invited again and again to participate in all manners of celebrations and evening affairs.

Usually she was too focused on her mind and meditation and the training of her body. The turbulent life within the political game was not to her liking at all. She was too young, too inexperienced and too honest to compete with the elite of Arlathan.

Mostly she danced with her father and brother and the rest of the event she smiled politely and observed and listened. It was her gift to elegantly blend into the background.
Being considered part of the décor allowed her to overhear gossip and rumors, which was otherwise restricted to insiders and servants.

On one of the numerous occasions she caught glimpses of all of the Evanuris. And so I got to see them first hand as well. They left quite the impression.
Mythal and Sylaise had invited the upper class to celebrate the completion of a new temple in the central district of Arlathan's main island. Both insisted that the entire council made an appearance, so they did. (Emotional blackmail at its finest)

We caught a glimpse of Sylaise with her coper red hair woven with stands of spun gold, a trail of bronze fabric trailed behind her. She stood next to her mother, Mythal, wearing a dress of flowing silver. It was hard to make out where her own silver blond hair ended and her shimmering gown started. On her head rested a crown reminiscent of dragon horns. Both ladies stood like queens, noble, beautiful and proud.

Next to them stood an odd pair. No less proud but more primal, Andruil stood in a dress made from leather and furs. Her eyes gleamed and her grin was feral. No one would want to approach her in a mood like this. One exception was the young lady in white sitting next to her.
Ghilanain was not one of the Evanuris, but she had been allowed into the council after Andruil uplifted her.
The mother of Halla was dressed in all white. Her hair was held up in a headdress mimicking the horns of her favored creations. Despite the formality one would expect from these events her dress was translucent and showed a lot of her porcelain skin.

Elgar'nan stood close to his wife Mythal. He was an imposing figure, as dark as Mythal was light. His garments were a balance of black robes and golden armor. With an impressive frown on his face, he watched the people around the hall.
June had always been more interested in his own works than social interaction. He sat off to the side, tanned skin, red garments and his shiny brown hair held back by metallic beads with intricate designs.

While most of the pantheon mingled with each other and some of their most favored, two figures would always stood apart from the crowd. Though they did gravitate towards each other.

Dirthamen and Falon'Din stood together like a negative mirror image. Both were fair skinned and tall, almost as tall as Elgar'nan.
Falon'Din looked around with an absentminded expression. Clothed in pale, multilayered robes, adorned with white raven feathers, he looked like he could dissolve into mist at any given moment like a mirage. Dirthamen had a heavier presence. His coat was dark purple and anthracite in color. It pooled and dragged on the floor around him and the hood obscured the upper part of his face, giving him a dangerous look.

Around these seemingly untouchable, exalted beings flittered only their most favored, their personal guards, hunters, assistants or servants.

One of them was of particular interest to me, mostly because of my foreknowledge of his future title: Fen'Harel.

At this point in time he had been Mythal's Pride. A spirit-born, whom she favored greatly. His wild red-brown hair was held back with a circlet. Compared to the people surrounding him he seemed moderately humble, dressed in simple dark and lighter green tunics with silver stitching. He looked altogether composed and calm and irritatingly smug, as if he knew more than anyone around him. Cocky, handsome, future Egg! How dare he look so handsome!

That evening would be the only time I saw all of them together, as the tensions were already beginning. Lower class citizens became servants, the servants became slaves. They lost their status as employees, as citizens and as persons. They were seen as playthings for nobles, objects! For someone whose nanny and gardener and cook and maids had become her family, Sylva was outraged by this development.

After a particularly nasty ball she went back into the family mansion and talked to her former nanny.
And so both she and I got a full account of how the vanity of the creators and their pet nobles spread, bringing misery, slavery and poverty to the common folk. News spread about a poison from the void, which had been brought to the people by Andruil and her hunting trips. A madness spread through the Evanuris and the conflicts got worse by the day.

Some slaves spoke of rebellion, of freedom and reconstruction. A wolf shaped spirit had begun to free some of them. When he freed slaves during one of her hunts Andruil cursed him a rebellious mutt. Soon after the name Fen'Harel was whispered among the downtrodden and outcast with hope and reverence.
The Rebel wolf, freeing slaves and saving people. Another player in the political power struggle.

In the end it was Sylva's decision to gain some distance from the political arena, while I would have gotten involved. She chose to become a guardian for the dreamers. And so we served in different locations watching over the oldest of the elvhen in their long sleep.

Our competence soon gained us privileges and higher positions. We started to command and train others. With our experience we gained confidence in ourselves and trust from others around us. This is how we found ourselves in the temples in Bresili'An. Occasionally a noble asked for our service by name and for short periods we would be bodyguards or champions. Twice in that time we received a personal task from Lady Mythal, a great honor according to some. For us it offered the opportunity to help the people and gain more experience in the political stage.

In my time away my brother took over the family management. It went well until the civil war broke out. He was too peace oriented and compassionate to survive for long. When the fights reached the city we called our home, he only held out long enough to save many of our household before he was slain in combat.
What happened to father I did not know.

The twins prospered in their roles as priests. Over time they became more distant and cruel. Every time the family would meet at home, their treatment of family retainers was more and more horrid. Their own slaves were treated even worse. Despite everything their mother could not be more proud. Sylva resolved to stay as far away from them as possible. I agreed.

Sylva tried to remain at a distance when political tension was high, but could not escape the fall out and the civil war. Alliances under the banner of their so called Gods fought over territory and possession of newly found Lyrium. The taint infected most of the upper echelons, making them more aggressive and dangerous than ever before.
From time to time some Eluvian went dark. Cities were strategically isolated and attacked. Whole areas the size of countries shook under elemental forces summoned by magic. As if the chaos of war was not enough, Fen'Harel's agents added a dash of hit and run attacks to the unstable mixture that was Elvhenan.

The empire descended into absolute chaos.

From time to time Sylva was asked to join the fighting and I went along for the ride even though I never wanted to kill anyone, ever. The only person gaining Sylva's and my support was Mythal, who in her gentle wisdom, tried to diffuse the conflicts. It was all in vain as her own children turned against her.

The story of Sylvanavir's life came to an abrupt halt during her mission in Bresili'An. Due to our position we were tasked with guarding and rescuing dreamers from one of the newer sleeper halls.

It had been a joined project with the Shemlen, the short lived humans from the north, to erect a temple in which their few dreamers would receive training. Our dreamers would instruct theirs on the delicate details of Fadewalking, if they showed the aptitude. Sylva was a competent dreamer herself. In Elvhenan most people could walk the open Fade easily enough. The only difference was the level of aptitude for it.

The Fade was everywhere and manipulating it was second nature to all of the elvhen. However only in our dreaming could we reach the deepest furthest reaches of the Beyond. Many times we used our dreams to befriend spirits, such as Curiosity, Purpose and Command and Sylva's personal favorite, Victory. On rarer occasions we met Valor, Wisdom and Faith. Only once had she seen Glory and Love and Fortune respectively. None of them had been interested in her for Sylva had no ambition for glory, no interest in romantic love and she did not believe in chance.

During our evacuation mission many of the Eluvian had been shattered on purpose. They led to places either in the middle of the war zone or into hostile territory. The few usable escape routes led through some of the crossroads. They were plains of existence created for the sole purpose of connecting, much like a central station would. The plan had but one drawback: Anyone could use the crossroad and so it was that after the first few elves had been sent ahead, hostiles came through the opened mirror passage.

We never found out whether it was coincidence or a planned encounter, but the forces were led by one of my twins. Dressed in robes of deep purple, inlayed with hazy designs and trimmed with bear fur, it could only be a priest of Dirthamen. His face had given us pause. Would he really kill his own sister? While they had never been close, family was still highly valued, above most else in fact.

He gave us the chance to turn and run. If we left and were not caught again we would live.

Running was against our nature though. It would have disgraced and discredited us as an Arcane Knight, as a champion of Mythal. We turned and ran, but not to safety. We managed to kill a large part of his forces and saved another 5 of our charges by sending them through an Eluvian and breaking it behind them.

By then brother had caught up to us and challenged us to a duel. Sylva accepted, but was naïve despite her experience. I could have told her he would not play fair. Instead of fighting magic against magic, will against will, he lured her into a trap. The prepared magic circle underfoot tore her essence from her body and his spell caged her spirit in a crystal prism and it took me along for the ride.

I absolutely loathed being punished for someone else's idiocy. The deed was done and she was lost. And so was I. The world vanished and shrunk into the singular feeling of pressure from all around.

What followed were several years filled with vague impressions. With our magic we could still sense our surroundings. Using our aura we could perceive the echoes from all around like a form of magical sonar. It helped us cope with the disembodiment and sudden loss of all other perceptions.

It all came to an abrupt end when the Fade disappeared. All of a sudden there was no dreaming, no spirits around. The concentration of ambient magic decreased rapidly until it was as good as non-existent. Silence and darkness fell upon us. Sylva,… I was trapped in a metaphysical place of total isolation. The sensual deprivation drove her mad within a few short years. The centuries after splintered her mind and soul. Her spirit decayed.

Time became meaningless until a soft mental touch awakened the rest of her and gave her form. Past met present. Sylvanavir moved on and I took her memories.