Chapter 34.33 (POV Gladil)

Gladil

Drow. Although hate for the elf’s darker skinned cousins had been ingrained into Gladil from a young age, he found himself able to act civilly towards the two he’d run into in Annahmia. He knew, from years of listening to his parents and elders as well as extensive lessons as a child, that the drow were a dark aberration of his people, and therefore could not be trusted. 

At least, that is what the little voice in the back of his head screamed whenever he saw either of the sisters walking around this little town. In the last one hundred years since his forced pilgrimage, as he’d taken to calling it, he’d had a lot of time to reflect on the teachings of the elders and the word of the so-called ‘high-elves’. He knew now that the majority of his people who still lived in Lýswood, or as the humans called it The Elven Forest, were brainwashed by the elders. They were taught hate and arrogance, rather than peace and love.

Gladil was once a scout for the elvish army, renowned for his ability to sense changes in ambient mana that usually indicated cloaking spells or large-scale magic attacks charging. He’d spent seventy years in the army, following the words of his elders and commanders to secure peace for the elvish people from the humans. The things he’d done in the word of his god, or rather his former god, kept him awake many nights. 

After a particularly bad battle in which the elves slaughtered many women and children under the guise that they were hiding weapons and soldiers, Gladil finally worked up the courage to desert. He’d long since questioned the word of the high-elves who claimed to speak for Aslsa, a nature goddess who was the impromptu goddess of elvenkind and mother of Lýswood. 

He fled home, the image of a young human girl’s face seared into the back of his eyelids, peppered with elven arrows and half burnt to a crisp, ready to demand answers from the high elves who he’d never even met. How could any Goddess demand that they attack a defenseless border village? Literally defenseless. There was not a single soldier stationed in the small farming community that his troop had been ordered to wipe out, but that did not stop the commanders from ordering an execution of every human anyways.

He was found sneaking into the inner-sanctum, where the high elves dwelled, and forced to flee once more before confronting their high priest. As he approached that sacred ground where the common wood elves were forbidden, however, he felt the thrumming energy of an enchanted wood more powerful than he’d ever felt before. He felt his Goddess’ presence within those woods, confined to their inner-sanctum, and knew that Aslsa must have plotted with the high elves in their war on the humans. So, he fled before being captured a hundred years ago and started his pilgrimage.

It all brought him back to here, on the edge of the newly found and yet to be named forest south of Annahmia. He’d joined the ranger’s guild in hope of finding another colony of elves someday or another nature god for his people to follow. Really, he just wanted a chance to redeem himself for all the evil he did in the name of the high elves. Then one day he’d found a chance for salvation, and he would start by redeeming the soul of the wayward elf with him. Unfortunately, he had failed Echil, leaving him behind and allowing him to die to his greed. 

As he stood here waiting for the sun rise over his promise land, Gladil could almost swear he still felt Echil there with him. He could feel the lust, the ever present and almost tangible leering that he always felt when he was around the young thief. In particular, Gladil’s attention was focused on one of the willow trees off to the right of the path. For an indeterminate amount of time the elf found his attention fastened to the tree and would almost swear he could see the low hanging branches of the droopy tree slowly reaching closer to him. 

Then, as the sun rose, Gladil was finally freed from the grasp that the willow had on his mind. Deep within the forest he could feel an energy building up, one that felt very much like the presence he felt a hundred years back in him homeland. The presence of a tangible power, the influence of a god. Once again, he was transfixed, and gazed into the forest. As he was rooted to the spot, he felt the power crescendo and his chest felt tighter. This was all that he’d hoped for.

So, when finally, he felt the power that had been building up ease off, he took a deep breath and an even deeper step forward into the forest. One long step for elfkind, and one longer step toward his destiny.