Part 1: Sun

Chapter 2

This was not the first time dragons had attacked humans.

Dragon attacks on humans and human settlements had been the subject of stories for centuries. But they were not just stories. Now and then, a village or town – only elves had what could truly be called "cities" – would be ablaze, the dragon chasing down those who tried to escape, several people dead or missing in the aftermath.

A human would leave town to run an errand or just for a walk – and never return. There would be no body. Blood and burnt ground were the only things that remained of them.

The only logical conclusion was that the dragons had eaten them.

Until it no longer became simply a "conclusion," and someone saw it happen with their own eyes, their friend snatched from their side while they were powerless to stop it. Magicless.

But humans were inferior beings, lower than the animals that humans themselves ate. There was nothing wrong with the mightiest of creatures using them to satisfy their appetite on occasion. While this practice was perhaps frowned upon – like an elven teenager getting a bad haircut on a whim of rebellion, to the frustrations and disapproving glances of their elders –, nothing was ever done about it. On this matter, the dragon king himself was silent.

Dragons attacking humans had happened for centuries.

But never like now.

The village healed and rebuilt.

The morning after the attack, Elarion had seen to the most severe injuries first. Her runes and incantations - sana hoc ardeat – were steady and sure this time. Orange-yellow glowed where her fingertips wrote them in the air, over the severe burn on a young boy's cheek, then her school teacher's arm, then old man Tiren's leg – shining like the sun it drew power from.

Beautiful. Elarion could not help but admire it – although briefly this time, not like when she gazed in open-mouthed awe when she cast her first spell – as she worked. And she kept at it, walking about on the grassy hill from person to person, with the blackened debris of her village behind her, until her mother laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and told her that was enough for now, to stop and rest.

The village's reconstruction carried out over a few weeks – it was a small village, with less than a thousand people and even fewer buildings. Debris was swept up and cleared away, wood ashes stored for next year's crop, and the houses, the inn – a human settlement, no matter how small, always had to have an inn: if humans didn't take care of each other, show each other hospitality when they travelled, who would? – the school house, the market place and shops – how everything fit in this tiny village, Elarion had no idea – were rebuilt.

Beam by beam. Thatch square by thatch square.

Another village, almost large enough to be called a town, about ten miles away heard the news and came to help, bringing their skills, tools, and building materials – glass, bricks, stone and plaster – so that Elarion's village was rebuilt even better – and more beautiful, she thought – than it had been before it was destroyed, before the dragon had set it ablaze.

Humans stuck by each other.

Dragon attacks were not unheard of, Elarion knew. And not even only on the human settlements, either. Just lone humans, travelling, or just wandering around, too, would be targets.

It had happened to her cousin's father, her uncle by marriage.

That's what had happened to her own father, too. All that had been found of him were claw marks gouged in the ground, splatters of human blood, and a scrap of the cloak her mother had made him.

Elarion had been only a baby when it happened, too young to remember. But she still sometimes heard her mothers sobs at night, muffled as if her mother was trying not to wake her. Elarion would roll over on her side to face away from her mother, pretending not to hear. She knew her mother would not want her to.

Her village itself had never been targeted by dragons, at least as long as anyone could remember. This had been the first one she had personally experienced in her lifetime.

She hadn't been missing out on anything, that's for sure.

But what was so curious about it was that the dragon turned its back on them before actually making sure it had killed anyone, or actually taking anyone. It hadn't eaten anyone, hadn't even tried. It just burned the buildings down and breathed a burst of fire at them when they fled.

Almost like it had been making a point.

Elarion knew – it had been making a point.

She waited for another dragon – or perhaps the same one? she could never tell them apart when they were of the same kind – to come and attack them again. But the weeks drug on, and the village was rebuilt and stayed rebuilt, and life went on as usual, back to normal, back to routine.

No attacks. No fire breathing dragons.

Perhaps that was it, Elarion thought. The dragons had made their point, had shown their displeasure, and would leave it at that. That act of terror had satisfied them.

Yes. That must be it.

It wasn't.

Elarion opened the trap door in the wooden floor, taking out her books. Since human settlements never knew if or when they would be set ablaze, humans had long taken to storing important things underground – her mother practicing this more strictly than some. And these books were something Elarion did not want to lose. So, from the time when she had first gotten them, she'd hid them like buried treasure in one of the many storage places under the floorboards.

As her mother sat in a new rocking chair by the new fireplace, the small and controlled fire crackling away happily in its confines and warding off the cold outside from entering their house that was now rebuilt with stone, Elarion sat on the floor close to her, spreading out her brown skirts and settling one of the books on her lap – the one with the soft, blue-bound cover that had the sun magic symbol indented in white on the front. She cracked it open.

Each page showed runes for a variety of sun magic spells, with their incantation and a detailed description of what each spell did and what it was meant more. Elarion brushed her fingers over the paper, tracing over the rune drawn in black ink. She whispered the incantation to herself softly, reading the explanation and huffing out a small, quiet chuckle. Then she moved her fingers from the page to the air on front of her.

She traced the symbol in the air now. Orange-yellow lines lit up the space in front of her face, and she smiled.

"Parva luminaria," she breathed.

Small, little orbs of light appeared, floating in the air where her rune had been. She giggled as she watched them.

Beautiful.

Just like the first time.

"Having fun over there?" her mother asked.

"Mmhmm!"

Elarion waved her hand to dismiss the spell, and the lights flickered out.

She turned a page, and traced more runes with her fingers, painted more bright symbols in the air, breathed out more strange words and phrases.

Sparks flashed, like small fireworks, like the larger ones she'd seen when the elves had their festivals.

Her hands warmed.

A potted plant in a corner grew, its green brightening, leaves becoming fuller, a few smaller ones appearing from its stem.

All the while, she watched in awe, the giddy feeling in her stomach never going away. Even after almost two years, the wonder of doing magic had not diminished even a little.

This is so cool.

Eventually, Elarion closed her books and set them back in their floor compartment, closing the small trap door.

Her mother called her for dinner, and then she had homework to do.

Finishing those, her books came right back out.

An hour.

Two.

Four.

"Elarion, what are you doing up this late?" A sheepish smile, illuminated in hovering light. "Go to bed."

"But –!"

"You'll have time to practice tomorrow. But now, to bed. You have school in the morning."

The day was cloudy, as it usually was during this time of year. The afternoon sun shone through whenever there was a break in their path, still warm, but no longer blazing. In a few weeks, the clouds would be heavy with snow, and the cold would truly set in.

Not that Elarion was worried, though. The village was plenty prepared and stocked for the winter. She had made sure of it.

She walked along the now-paid street, her boots tapping on the cobblestones. Market stalls lined one side of the street, brick-built rectangular shops in the other, the inn's sign creaking softly as it rocked slightly up ahead. People milled about, chatter filling the air as they spoke of gossip and exchanged money and wares. Elarion weaved through them, headed for a fruit stall. The supply in the bowl on the kitchen table was low.

"Have you heard?" A woman's voice from somewhere close by said urgently. "Dragons have been attacking more settlements!"

Elarion whirled around toward the voice, the basket on her arm butting against her side and the tassels of her grey-brown shawl swishing against her arms at the movement.

It was Sylvia talking to Areli. Both women were somewhere in their thirties, their brown and blonde hair, respectively, tied up in braided buns. Had Elarion been paying attention, she would have noticed Areli's new pale green dress, and

"Seriously?" Areli replied, though her tone was more of a resigned deadpan and a worried one. "What else is new?"

"I'll tell you what's new," the older woman answered. "Five villages and two towns burned to the ground, just in the last two weeks! Remember the how the people from Masonvale helped us rebuild? Well, now they're in the same situation, only worse. A young boy from there ran all the way here just this morning. The poor thing can't be older than eleven. A dragon attacked that village three days ago. At least a fifth of the people died, and when they went to another town for help, that town was also in rubble."

"Oh, no! And that poor boy." Areli put a bruised plum back on the stack. "What did they do with him? Have names been released?"

"The village elder took him in. He'll send out word out to find the boy's parents and send some people to the other settlements to see how we can help. But no names of the dead have been released." Sylvia's voice got soft with sadness. "And I doubt the child wants to talk about it now."

Areli shook her head. "What is even going on with these dragons? An attack every few months or so" – her voice became more agitated – "and snatching people off the roads was bad enough. But this is just…."

Areli continued on ranting, but her voice faded from Elarion's ears. All she could do was stare at the women's backs in wide-eyed horror, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach, both clenched in cold dread that was hard as stone.

No….

This is all my fault.

Elarion remembered when she had first been introduced to and fascinated by magic.

The spring when Elarion was thirteen, a travelling mage came to her village. All the children gathered around him as the man, somewhere in his forties, dressed in long, flowing robes, showed off small spells. She stood at the back of the crowd craning her next to see over everyone's heads. At some point, her cousin Eli came up behind her and lifted Elarion onto his shoulders. The two smiled at each other, then turned back to watch.

They all oohed and awed at the show. She noticed the man used marbles that glowed in different colors.

Afterwards, she went up to the mage and asked him about them.

"Oh, these?" the mage said, taking three colorful marbles from his soft, cloth drawstring pouch he kept tied to his belt. "These, my dear child, are called primal stones."

"Primal stones?" she echoed. She tilted her head as she gazed at the marbles that rested in the mage's palm. Was that a lightning bolt that just flashed in one of them?

"Yes, primal stones. They carry the most powerful essence of the natural elements, of the six primal sources. This one," he took the lightning marble – no, primal stone? – in his free hand, "is a sky stone. It holds a real, entire storm inside it."

"Whoaaaa!" Elarion gasped, and her eyes widened. "Really? A whole storm? An actual storm?" The mage smiled and nodded. "In that little thing?"

"Most primal stones are bigger," the mage said, putting the sky stone back in his palm with the others and indicating the size of a usual primal stone with his free hand, "about this size. These are smaller versions."

"How did it get in there?"

"That, my dear child, is a secret. But…." The mage held out his hand with the marble-sized primal stones.

"…Can I try?" Elarion asked, hopeful.

"Indeed you can. Here, pick one, and I'll show you a spell you can do with it."

Elarion beamed – a wide, shining grin, and she drew her gaze over the primal stones, looking at each of them in turn.

The one that caught her eye was yellow. It shone brightly, red swirls sometimes making their appearance amidst the yellow glow. She reached out and touched it tentatively, in a manner belying how much she was vibrating with excitement.

"I'll try this one."

"The sun stone. Alright, then. Let me show you." He took the sun stone in his free hand, and placed the other marbles back in their drawstring pouch.

Then, he put a finger to the air, and began drawing. Bright lines of orange-yellow appeared, painted in the air at the edge of his fingertips. "Parva luminaria."

As soon as the mage spoke the words, the lines in the air disappeared, and tiny balls of like, about the same size as the primal stone marbles – maybe even a little smaller – floated in their place, slightly bouncing as if they were buoys in water.

"Whoaaaa!" Elarion breathed. The mage waved his hand, the lights vanished.

"Now, you try." He held the sun stone out to her, and the mage placed it in her palm when she opened her hand, cupping it as if she were receiving water.

She held it in the center of her palm – tentatively, as if she might drop it, then pointed her index finger to the air in front of her like she saw the mage do. The mage nodded in encouragement, and Elarion began to move her finger to draw the shape she'd just seen.

Bright, orange-yellow light appeared in the air at the edge of her fingertips. Elarion inhaled sharply and nearly jumped back, her eyes wide in surprise – that worked! That actually came from me! – but she kept her finger moving. She had to do this.

The symbol looked like brushstrokes of paint on an invisible canvas.

"That's perfect," the mage said. "Now, do you remember the words."

Elarion nodded enthusiastically. "Parva…luminaria."

Instantly, just as it had with the mage, the symbol disappeared. And in its place were floating, hovering orbs of light.

Elarion cheered and jumped, holding the sun stone securely in her palm. "I did it!"

"You are a natural." The mage smiled at her proudly, his eyes fond.

"Really?!"

"Yes, I must say so."

Elarion couldn't help her happy, bubbling laughter. This is so cool this is so cool this is so cool!

"Tell you what," the mage said. "While I'm here, I'll let you borrow it." He nodded to indicate the sun stone in Elarion's hand. "And," the man opened the larger bag he carried across his shoulder and drew out a couple large books; on both of there front covers was a large, broken circle with sides that looked like flames, "I'll give you these."

"I can borrow them?" Elarion asked excitedly, taking the books with one arm and cradling them against her chest.

"No, they're yours. I've already memorized all of there is in these books. It's time for someone else to have them now."

"Are you serious?" Elarion couldn't help the startled gasp and look of disbelief.

"Yes, I'm serious."

With a happy squeal, Elarion bounced up and down on her toes and grinned so wide it hurt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The mage laughed. "You're welcome."

Over the course of the mage's visit, whenever she wasn't helping her mother with chores and errands or at school or doing homework, Elarion was poring over the spell books the mage had given her.

The small, marble-sized sun stone rolled between her palm and the wooden grain of the table she sat at, humming to her self in contemplation as she read over the inked script of the open book.

"Back at it again?" Her cousin Eli asked, walking past behind her with a load of folded laundry in his arms. She was spending the day at his house, as she did often.

"Uh-huh! Look," she answered, pointing to a rune on the page, "this one is for helping plants to grow, even without water or fertile soil! And this one –."

"Fascinating," he interjected, half-mocking, half-serious. He stopped behind her chair, hands now empty, to look over her shoulder.

"E – liiiiiii," she griped, turning her head to look at him in annoyance, her dark eyes meeting his pale brown ones.

He relented with a small, indulgent chuckle. "Alright, alright. Why don't you show me something?"

Elarion did, showing him a hand-warming spell. And laughed when Eli yelped when her hand on his wrist got too hot.

"Payback!" She grinned.

He booped her on the nose. Elarion wrinkled her nose and rubbed at it with the back of her hand.

"Seriously, though," her cousin said, "that's pretty cool that you can do all that. You've only been at it, what, three days?"

"The mage called me a natural!" she replied. "And he called my magic 'a blooming flower.' He said if I keep practicing, I could become a master mage, too, someday."

"Nice," Eli agreed smiling at her.

"You know, you should try it, too. It's not that hard. You just have to remember the rune exactly as it shows you and say the words."

"Hmm, maybe," Eli said, his voice holding a tone of contemplation.

And he did. Not as often as she, but now and then, they would sit beside each other, and go over the books, Elarion animatedly reading out the spells' descriptions to her cousin and cheering whenever he succeeded in casting one.

"You're a mage, now, too," she said with a grin of satisfaction, standing by his chair as he completed another spell.

"I guess I am," he replied. He booped her nose again, causing her two scowl half-heartedly and take a step back. "We're now the two mages of our village."

Three weeks later, the mage left, and she'd had to give back the sun stone. But her fascination with magic remained, and she would read and re-read the books he had given her, longing for the day when she would have a sun stone of her own.

She had been so fascinated by magic, nearly two years ago. It was so beautiful. It allowed her to do things she wouldn't have been able to otherwise. It had gotten her even closer to her cousin.

It had been a good, pure, wonderful thing.

But now….

Elarion hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. It was night now, her house dark, illuminated only by the fire in the fireplace. The flames cast shadows she had never noticed before, creeping over the walls and on the table her mother sitting at, busy doing something that Elarion wasn't paying attention to.

This is all my fault.

As more days had past, more reports of dragons attacking human towns and villages came to her ears. There were fewer and fewer places for humans to flee to, to find shelter.

And the death toll kept on rising, higher and higher. Now it was reaching the thousands.

Mages were being specially targeted, too, several of them – one even very renowned among the humans – ending up dead or missing. One town had been known for its mages. Now it was torched, to nothing but rubble. The surviving mages from there all gone into hiding. A few had even come here, hearing that this village was still standing. Those mages, some as young as her or even younger, never left indoors, and never dared to take out their primal stones. There were even rumors that mages were destroying their primal stones – using them to defend against dragons had been proved fruitless, and only added to the dragons' rage.

Were the dragons trying to kill off all the human mages? Take magic away from humanity completely? Ensure that there would be no more "blooming flowers," as that mage had put it?

She had embraced magic in fascination and wonder.

But now, what she had been so fascinated with brought destruction on her people, on their homes.

She that elves and dragons didn't like the idea of humans having inherent magic. But she searched for it anyway. She had thought she had to; she hadn't seen any other options at the time, but now….

People were dying because of her.

Just the opposite of what she'd gotten her connection to magic for.

Elarion sniffed as her cheeks grew wet, stifling a sob from her place between the wall and the bed so that her mother wouldn't hear and ask her what was wrong. She wiped her palms down her cheeks, rubbing the skin their to dry them.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that the dragons were doing this just because of this. It wasn't right that they were killing people who'd done nothing wrong.

But they were. It was her fault.

She had to do something.

When she was satisfied her eyes and cheeks her dry enough not to be noticed by her mother, she brought herself up to sit on the bed. Then, sliding off the quilt, she went up to the window, and stared up at the sky.

The starlit sky.

Though cloudy the rest of the day, the sky was clear tonight, allowing the far orbs of light to shine in all their glory.

She remembered learning tales of startouch elves. How they were rare, the most powerful elves in the world. They were wise, and old, like the stars themselves that they drew their magic power from, that were their namesake. Reclusive, like the wise old hermits that the storybook hero would seek advice from for their problems.

If she could find them, if she could speak to them, maybe they would have a solution. If the tales were true, they were the most powerful magical beings next to the dragons – or perhaps even the same level of powerful, if not more so.

Magical power was respect in Xadia. Surely the dragons would respect them, if the startouch elves vouched in her favor.

And Elarion knew that was a very big "if." It was a long shot, a sun-stroke fantasy, some might say, that she would even just be able to find them. And then get them to hear her, to help her?

Most elves were not kind to humans.

But, Elarion thought as she looked at the sky full of stars, full of light, the midnight star pulsing like a heartbeat, the brightest of all among them.

She had to take that chance.

Authors note:

Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated.