Chapter 14

Why did they want to hunt you down? What have you done and what do you plan to do for them to torture you and capture you in such away?

"I must recover our birthright for the elves and all magical creatures of Bethmoora. I must claim the surface of the Earth and return to it like it was always our destiny. It's not just a matter of honor and justice, it's about our health. Our druids sacrifice themselves every day exposing their skins to small doses of sun rays to tend to the minuscule forest we've been able to plant here underground where daylight filters enough through the skylight to reach our trees, plants and flowers. This is all the flora we have left on which our potions, ointments and cures depend. Humans have destroyed the forests, oceans and air in their infinite effort to produce more factories and industries and pollute the world with useless material objects. The planet dies slowly and we die with it."

The Prince brought the golden spoon loaded with peas and caramel carrots in rosemary and oregano to his mouth. He chewed calmly and tried to control his agitated breathing. Rage was burning his chest once more, boiling in his veins and swelling his aorta artery with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Loreto's shaken face. She hadn't touched her plate in minutes. She watched him closely, like a hellish mutant creature. He cleaned his mouth with the cloth napkin resting on his lap, drank a sip from his glass and faced her.

"We're gradually fading away. We weren't conceived for underground life. Thousands of years underground has forced our organisms to adapt to these surroundings," he gestured around before Loreto's astonished look. "Exterminating all humans is the only solution. We need space and time to slowly expose ourselves to the sun and heal. This," he pointed at his face, "is not our original form. This is the result of eons underground."

Loreto exhaled a sigh, revealing her shock. She sat still with her forearms resting at each side of her plate, her food growing cold. Her jaw out of place, her gaze gone into a random spot in the air. Pale. The Prince would never cease to surprise himself at how ignorant common humans were, those who didn't occupy a position of power in their societies, to the irreversible consequence of their actions. They may not have been directly responsible for the policies which caused the planet to cry for help, yet they were accomplices to take part in economies of massive consumption of which they were both slaves and gears.

"Is it true you killed your father?," she suddenly said in a thin thread of faltering voice. She slowly turned her pupils towards him until she met his gaze.

She was shaking. The Prince could listen to her thoughts loud and clear. There was no evil in her heart, she was an open book hence so was her mind. And in that moment there was only one emotion in Loreto Clair. Dread. He had to suppress the guilt for scaring her in such away and the urgency to assure her she would result unharmed from everything. He wouldn't have the heart to exterminate her, especially after what she had done for him. She was tiny and fragile, yet her spirit was giant. She had shown courage and nobility in acknowledging her mistake and helping him escape the agency's torture prison.

"I had to," the Prince said with his gaze fixed in front. "His weakness was to blame for having condemned us to our current situation. I defended myself from his guards when he gave the order to kill me and, by extension, my sister. It was him or us."

Loreto swallowed hard. The little color in her face abandoned her. She coughed in her fist and cleared her throat.

"And what if there was another way out? A month ago I didn't know about the existence of magical creatures, let alone of elves living side by side with us in this world. What if you introduce yourself to the world as the Prince of Elves and negotiate a peaceful solution to your people? The entire world would be just as fascinated with you as I am, you'd have people's support if you explain the situation."

The Price chuckled and shook his head. He carried on eating in silence. Only someone as young and as naïve as Loreto Clair would believe a peaceful solution was possible to recover the lands which by right had always been Elven. His father had made a truce with humans with the promise they would keep to the forests for they'd remain in the cities. Humans could not keep their word of honor. Soon cities needed more and more land to grow and humans quickly forgot King Balor's truce, expelling the elves and forcing them to dig underground to survive. As always on the behalf of greed and ego. They fought because they didn't believe in the same god; they killed each other because an empire wanted to rule all others; they broke pacts as soon as a possibility of personal gain appeared. They were a race unable to live in harmony. They lacked a sense of community beyond languages, beliefs and geopolitical limits. Anything altered their fragile peace. Their empathy expanded only to the limit of their knowledge. And humans were the most ignorant beings on the planet.

"Common people are not monsters, you know?," Loreto continued and adjusted herself on the chair to face him. "We just want to be happy and achieve our goals and for that we have less than a hundred years of life. We're not immortals like you, our bodies are fragile and susceptible to diseases that can shorten our lives."

Her voice broke and fell silent. The Prince observed her, puzzled. Her hazel eyes submerged in a sea of tears. She touched her abdomen with her hands and lowered her head in a barely audible sob. She hastened to apologize and dried the corners of her eyes with the napkin on her lap. She drank a long sip from her glass and cleared her throat. Only then he remembered. The day of his capture, the Prince had gone to the theater after hearing the news about the cancellation of her concert due to health reasons. When he entered the aisle of the sixth floor and saw her unconscious on the floor, he feared the worst. He had taken her in his arms and called her name repeatedly. It was true, humans were too fragile. Loreto Clair was slowly dying. The Prince stretched his right hand towards her.

"May I?," he asked with his hand a few centimeters away from her head.

She only nodded, disconcerted.

The Prince levitated his right hand before her forehead and went down her face, neck, chest and stomach. He stopped there. He checked her approval and touched her abdomen through the chemise. He closed his eyes. He sensed a cellular change, a weak energy pulsing from her core, yet there was no trail of such radiation he had felt in Loreto as he took her in his arms in the theater.

"Do you have the same power as Agent Sapien?," Loreto asked, still motionless with her voice possessed by fear.

The Prince opened his eyes and looked at her, frowning.

"It was he who discovered the malignant tumor in my stomach. A team of doctors operated me in the agency and kept me in a coma for two weeks. Only when I woke up and walked again I found you, but by then they had already hurt badly."

The Prince brought his chair closer to hers. Loreto trembled at his sudden proximity. His right hand was still resting on her stomach. He looked into her eyes. Do not fear me. I won't hurt you. She tilted her head and tried to find confirmation in his eyes of what Nuada had just telepathically conveyed. Humans were absolutely disconnected from the higher plane of consciousness. They filled their brains with useless information, and consequently there was no space for contemplation. They lived their lives praising electronic devices specifically designed to keep them distracted and, except for a few, refused to connect to Mother Earth to ascend. He wasn't surprised to see her face breaking as she heard his voice in her head without uttering words. The Prince removed his hand from her abdomen. Her natural perfume was intoxicating him. A sweet warmth like an embrace mixed with a raw scent emanated from her skin. Quickly he took distance with his chair and stood up.

"You're healthy, I sense nothing," he sentenced and adjusted his coat.

Loreto stood up. He turned to her face to face. He had to bend his neck down to see her in the eyes. Her height reached his chest.

"If you wish, you can stay here all the time you want. Now I must leave you."

"Thank you for the invitation," Loreto whispered. "However, I'm afraid I have to go back home. I've been missing for a month and also...," she hugged her core, "I must have some medical exams done. It's not that I don't trust your powers or Agent Sapien's, but he even warned me the cancer may return and in that case, I won't be as lucky to count once again with the convenient help of magical creatures like yourselves or secret agencies with state-of-the-art medicine and technology departments."

Cancer. There were a few diseases in the world of humans more feared and despised than cancer. Elves didn't contaminate their bodies with chemically processed human products, nor did they breathe the toxic cloud above the metropolis. The biology of their organisms was a lot more complex than the human one, and so they could assimilate small quantities of toxicity from the modern world as long as they didn't mingle with them or with their lifestyle. That was one of the reasons they kept interactions with humans to a minimum. We're not immortals like you, our bodies are fragile and susceptible to diseases that can shorten our lives. Disproportionate development eager to advance in technology and make their lives even more comfortable and quicker was to blame for such a decrease in life expectancy. And Loreto Clair was yet another victim. If she left now, he may never see her again. He had to return to the agency for the last crown piece in Nuala's hands. He was certain his sister was also in possession of the map with the location of the Golden Army. His father, the King, never entrusted him with such a task. He always knew Nuada would challenge him eventually. With the Golden Army in his command, the massacre of humans would leave no survivors. He studied Loreto. He felt a pressing desire to hug her tight in his arms. He clenched his fists and tensed his body.

"I see," the Prince said and lost his gaze on the floor for a second. He refocused on her. "In that case, give me your hand," he said and stretched his right one with his open palm towards Loreto.

She blinked a few times and, dubious, placed her left hand against his.

Nuada closed his eyes.

Clair was not her real surname, but an artistic one. Loreto Helena María Cranwell. Her mother was Mexican and her father, American. They both lived in Los Angeles. Single daughter. Thirty-five years old. Single. Fluent in Spanish and French. During her childhood and adolescence she had an Old English Shepherd called Wolfie in honor of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who died when she was fourteen. It happened while she was at school. When Loreto learned about it, she didn't leave her room for four full days, crying about his loss. She wanted to become a mother someday, yet the only time she had attempted it a good five years ago, she had a miscarriage causing her a depression that lasted an entire year. She didn't trust men, for she carried too many disappointments in her heart. She felt curiosity for him and the elves, but she was too ashamed to ask. She has played the piano since she was seven and sang since she was fifteen. She loved music above all else. Her best friend named Heather had recently passed away because of complications in labor of her first-born. She still felt the pain of her loss like it happened yesterday. And the mere idea of going through a chemotherapy paralyzed her of fear.

The Prince separated his hand from hers. It burned. Rarely had he ever read a human. He never took an interest in them. Until now. His core lined up with hers like that time from high above in the theater listening to her concert. He gave a step back.

"Before the war begins, I will search for you. Now that I know your energy I will be able to find you. You will find refuge here and bring your parents. It's all I can promise," he said and walked towards the exit.

"Prince!," Loreto called at his back.

He turned around.

"What's the first thing you'd like to do on the surface of the Earth on a sunny day?"

The sudden lump in his throat strangled him for a second. His gaze clouded in tears. He clenched his jaw. He remembered the frozen salty ocean breeze on his face and hair, the freshness of the sea at the coasts of Bethmoora giving him goosebumps, the strength of the waves swimming against them, the millions of sparkles reflected on the wave crests and the crystal face of sand grains.

"To swim in the sea again."