Chapter One: Motivated by Hate
It was a cloudy afternoon as Celeste sat on the broken stone fence playing a mournful melody on her flute. No one lived in that forest anymore… not since… that day…
Her long elfin ears sank downward in sorrow as her doleful music stopped and she sat amidst the melancholy silence of the abandoned wood. Her knee-length blonde hair, tied in the back, flowed beside her in the gentle breeze. Every moment in the still wood reminded Celeste of the calm before the storm. She was one hundred years old this year, and it all happened eighty-one years ago. It was a deep wound, never healing even after the passing of over eight decades. It happened a lifetime ago, and yet it was imprinted in Celeste’s memory as if it had been yesterday.
A clan of elves once lived in that forest, a thriving colony thousands of years old. One morning Celeste, the daughter of the king, went out for a walk. It was a sunny morning… leading to a dark, cold night.
Still a child, the nineteen-year-old elfin princess soon found herself lost in a thicker part of the wood. Storm clouds came rolling in, and amidst the light rain and distant thunder Celeste turned to see what she believed to be a smoke signal, surely coming from the direction of the village. She set out running towards it as fast as her legs could carry her.
But when she reached it—no, no, Celeste’s mind stopped her sorrowful memory short. She was going to get revenge, and that was all that mattered; she would, as much as possible, forget the scenes she witnessed that day until it was time to exact sweet revenge, and take all her pain and malice out on the one responsible for her involuntary solitude.
And so the gloomy music, Celeste’s unspoken lament, resumed as she lifted her flute back up to her lips, reopening her old wound and yet somehow finding comfort in her requiem as it slowly marched on. If only her sorrow could do the same.
Many years she trained to find and kill the demon she sought. Many times she thought she knew where to find her. And many times she was wrong. She almost gave up hope; but she vowed she would find her, kill her, or die trying, and Celeste was not one to forget an oath.
Abruptly the requiem came to a stop once more, as Celeste rose from the broken bit of piled stone that still stood from the high castle walls once protecting her kingdom. Sitting and mourning would not get her a single step closer to revenge. So slowly and dejectedly she began walking in the direction of a small human village a little ways out from the forest.
It was fortunate for Celeste that she arrived at the human village at the same time as a traveling merchant. She heard him tell another interested customer, “Gah, that was sure the last time I am ever gonna go within ten miles of those bastard dark elves. Said we was a-tryin’ to cheat ‘em out of their money, and took my partner’s head. I barely escaped with my life, my life, certainly not my goods, I tells ya! Those menaces are cold-blooded killers; and I ain’t never gonna be stupid enough to go back there again.”
Intrigued, Celeste used cover of interest in some ribbon he was selling to probe him for more information.
Good afternoon, sir,” she said, walking up to him, with the red light of sunset glistening in her hair beautifully. She certainly had the grace and poise of royalty. “Those are beautiful ribbons,” she continued, her voice sounding gentle and sweet, yet only as a covering for something strong and hard.
Good evenin’, missy. Yep, these here are my finest, at least, the finest of what I’ve got left.”
Why, what happened?”
The sun disappeared and lamps were lit, and unexpectedly the merchant glanced around as if suddenly afraid of someone hearing. In a hushed tone, he answered her, “The dark elves, ma’am; me and my partner were stupid enough to try an’ sell to ‘em, and they not only killed him, they gave me such a beatin’ I’m lucky to be alive today!”
Oh my!” Celeste gasped. “You are very brave, to go within a mile of those creatures! I’ve heard of some absolutely wretched things they’ve done in the past.”
You probably ain’t heard the half of it,” the merchant said, sounding almost proud of how much he knew of the dirty deeds of the dark elves. “I heard ‘em gloatin’ over this one as I fled. It’s before my time, but you probably were around back then, miss; they say eighty years ago, those same dark elves, led by the monster they still have for a queen, wiped out an entire kingdom in that forest over yonder in a single night. No one survived, and it’s all a burnt graveyard now.”
“Oh, how frightful!” Celeste exclaimed, hiding her hatred. “I am traveling much, and all over; do tell me where those menaces are, that I should be able to avoid them!”
"Out west,” the merchant said, and pointed. “Past a tall mountain. It’s a barren wasteland back there; but there’s a small hill-sized mountain there that hides a rock openin’ leading down to the tunnels where they live. I’m a-tellin’ you, missy, if you ever see a rock openin’, run for your dear life!”
"I will be sure never to go that far!”
"Mercy me, I’m afraid I got a bit distracted. Consider the advice a free extra for your purchase… you are going to buy one of these mighty fine ribbons here, aren’t you?”
"Of course. And thank you very much for the tip! Hmm, I like this light sage color here… but this red… it’s almost the color of blood…”
Involuntarily the sight of blood red sent Celeste’s mind back eighty-one years to continue remembering that which she so desperately wanted to forget.
As soon as Celeste reached home, she found the entire village ablaze. Dead bodies littered the ground like so many pebbles tossed aside, and then she saw… her.
It took much visible effort, but Celeste managed to pull herself out of her thoughts and continue the purchase of a beautiful light green ribbon, playing the ditz to save herself having to explain the sudden and obvious effort she was expending to draw herself out of the world of memories.
Celeste spent the night in that town, and in the morning she bought supplies and set out for a long trek. The traveling merchant was still there, and she avoided him, lest he notice she was headed west.
Her journey took her west for many days before she reached the high mountain range she needed to cross. She thought continuously about that ominous day eighty-one years past, in hopes of kindling enough hatred inside of her to sustain her through her journey.
She looked like a perfect picture of evil, the very incarnation of hell’s fire and Satan’s wrath. Celeste’s knees shook as she saw the dark elf ruler lift her father the king, quietly resigned to death, up towards herself. The menacing creature whispered something maliciously into the ear of her father, who was admirably still carrying himself with royal dignity. Then in one moment, in the blink of an eye, the light of the blazing fire danced off of the evil woman’s blade, and her father was dead.
Dead. Dead. And she, then a child, forced to watch her father stabbed through the heart and beheaded. A child forced to see her father’s dead, empty eyes staring back at her as such a vicious creature as his murderer carried his head off as a trophy. It was a sight she would never forget, never, ever. And an event she would make that monster pay for.
Celeste gasped as she saw the mountains she needed to cross up close. The path she was taking was the most direct way across, and the easiest, but she knew it would still be a challenge for her. It took her many days to cross it, in bitter cold and brutal wind, nearly freezing to death as she diligently plodded along. But she would go to any length it took for peace of mind.
When she finally crossed over, she was hungry and weary, and very carefully rationing her food and water. Still she traveled west until to her great joy she saw the small rocky hill and the entrance to her oppressor’s lair, and the doorway to fulfilling what she felt was her destiny.
