The Elven Star

Inside an ancient library filled with dusty tomes, Aaravos sat in his old, familiar armchair. Its antique orange upholstery faded and worn smooth, telling the tale of centuries of use. Candlelight crackled and flickered around him, casting shadows against the tall bookshelves behind him. He frequented this library often; his personal archive, drawn to its solitude. As a Star-touched elf, Aaravos had been studying humans for centuries, fascinated by their strengths and weaknesses. This fascination was, in part, driven by the enduring mystery of their arrival: rumor has it that humans had simply appeared in Xadia one day. Or at least, that was the story passed down through generations by the elves.

Like the rest of Xadia, Star-touched elves are connected to a Primal Source. There are six different Primal sources: The Moon, The Sun, The Sky, The Ocean, The Earth, and The Stars. Born from the cosmos, Star-touched elves are celestial beings tied to a constellation. When their constellation aligns with the planet and stars, though far from being mortal, they can take a mortal form and descend the cosmos. He had only taken his mortal form about two thousand years ago, which seemed like a long time to humans. But for a Star-touched elf, it wasn’t much time at all.

He was holding a handmade book in his light-blue hands, with an old, worn leather-bound cover. His yellow eyes darted back and forth, taking in the handwritten script on the pages. He knew this book by heart because he wrote it, but he was looking for something specific: the location of a magic mirror that seemed to allude him. He turned the page, the paper rustling against his fingers.

Where did I last see that mirror? Who could have it now? Which dragon might have possession? He thought.

As he continued his search, he heard a faint tinkling sound. Almost as if a bell had chimed. He stopped reading and listened to his surroundings. Then, suddenly, the doors to the library were being pushed open, with a creak of their rusty hinges. A slight breeze made his candles flicker harder, almost going out. His yellow eyes darted toward the light that abruptly shone inside the library. His eyes widened in shock at the intrusion, his heart leapt into his throat as if it intended to escape. As his stars were rapidly twinkling on his indigo skin in tandem with his racing heart; he closed the book, set it down on the table, and then he waved his hand. The candles extinguished with a whispered hiss as little puffs of smoke emissions snaked up toward the ceiling. Aaravos gracefully pulled his hood over his head, turning invisible - a trait of the Moonshadow elves - and continued observing the stranger who entered the library.

The stranger walked into the library and pulled down their hood, revealing a head full of bright fiery-red curls pulled back into a messy ponytail. Freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, adding warmth to her smooth, light skin. Aaravos tilted his head in intrigue as he watched her while remaining invisible.

A woman? How did she get in here? I could have sworn I had placed a concealing spell over this library. How did she break my spell? He wondered as he looked at her ears and noticed there were no points. A human? With red hair? How interesting.

Her dark cloak rustled against her skin as she walked. Aaravos saw no noticeable symbols on the outside of her clothing. There was no way of telling where she had come from or where she belonged. She found a spare candle on a nearby shelf and pulled a match box out of her cloak. As she struck it against the box, a flame burst into life, like a tiny inferno on the tip of a match head. She lit the candle and picked it up by its metal holder. The warm candlelight played across her face, illuminating the look of wonder in her green eyes. She continued exploring, her footsteps echoed through the library, as she surveyed the shelves. The scent of ink and aged paper mingled in the air. The dust motes danced in the candlelight, casting a glow around her.

“Yes! I think I’ve found it!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement. Her green eyes were lit up with awe. “It seems old enough.” Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, as if she was afraid that someone would hear her. She gingerly reached up and touched a book on the shelf, attentively rubbing a layer of dust off its spine.

Is she talking to herself? He thought. He continued to watch her, finding everything she did more intriguing. The way she walked with a slight sway, the way she always seemed to put her weight on her right foot, then the left. She had opened a book, peering inside to read it, but groaned in frustration that it was in a different language. She tossed the book over her shoulder out of annoyance and began to search for another one. Unbeknownst to her, the book stopped it’s decent and hovered in mid-air behind her. It righted itself, gingerly closed its cover, and laid down carefully on an adjacent shelf. Triggered by the dusty shelves, she sneezed, interrupting the boring silence. His eyes widened at the sound of her sneeze. He watched, entranced, as a smile spread across his face. Finding another book, she turned to the left and began to walk toward a table. She stopped in her tracts as she spied the very same book she tossed over her shoulder, perfectly set on a nearby shelf. She approached it slowly arching a brow, her mind racing with logical reasons that didn’t seem to fit.

“Hmmm, that’s.... peculiar.” She backed away from it cautiously while not taking her eyes off it and tripped over an old rug. His face grew concerned for a brief moment as he watched her fall backwards, a book flying out of her hands again. He quickly lifted his hand and used his magic to stop her and the book from hitting the floor. He lowered them down slowly and let her lay on the cool stones. He breathed a sigh of relief as she simply looked around and then got back onto her feet.

What is she accident prone? Why is she so adorable? He thought as he put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing, trying to remain quiet.

That fall was scary at first, but it didn’t hurt. Why? She thought as she glanced around the room, her heart still beating fast from the ordeal. Shouldn’t I have hit my head? And yet, I feel fine as if landing softly. Hmmmm, weird. Then, she picked up her candle holder from the floor, it’s light illuminated a sitting chair and table.

As she wandered over to Aaravos’ sitting chair and table, his eyes narrowed at her approach. He held his breath realizing that she might discover him. What if she sits in this chair? He thought. He slowly stood up from his chair as silently as he could, never taking his eyes off her. He didn’t make any sounds, which wasn’t that difficult for an elf. He took a few soft steps away from the table while still invisible. She put the candle holder down on the table and then she stood completely still, noticing something. The very thin whisps of smoke barely visible still lingered on the wicks of the candles as the faint smell of snuffed smoke emanated softly in the air.

Damn, she knows I am here. He thought as he watched her eyes widen in realization.

“Is anyone here?!” she called out cautiously into the library. She looked around to see if anyone would reveal their self, her ears perked for any sound. But she was met with an oppressive silence, heavy with anticipation. The only sound was the gentle whisper of wind against the windowpanes.

That was brave. His yellow eyes danced with admiration as he watched her. Should I show myself to her? He wondered. What might happen if I do? The library’s silence, broken only by her shout; returned, filled with the soft murmur of dust settling. She turned, looked down at the table and spotted an old, leather-bound handmade book lying on it. Her curiosity piqued; she reached her hand out to pick up the book.

“That would be mine,” a deep, yet pointed voice sounded from behind her. She gasped and turned around to see someone standing in front of her now who wasn’t there before. She trembled with fear, clutching her hands defensively as the candles on the nearby shelves and tables flickered back to life. It cast a warm, golden light on his imposing figure, illuminating more of his face: sharp, light-blue cheekbones that seemed to shine and sparkle, and a strong, angular jawline. His intense yellow eyes held a sharp intelligence that seemed to pulse with magic under the surface.

Who is this person? Where did he come from? He is quite tall, what six foot six? She thought. Wait, did the candles just light up? She glanced around and then back at him. His yellow eyes gazed intensely at her. Did...did he do that? Is he a mage? Why is he wearing a cloak indoors? She could see white strands of hair draped over each shoulder flowing down from a midnight-blue cloak. His cloak had a silver star embroidery on the right shoulder, above where his heart might be.

“Who....who are you?” Her voice trembled as she continued to stare at him, fascinated. His yellow eyes held hers, his gaze unwavering.

“No one of importance.” The curves of his mouth went up into a small grin at his playful deception. He took a small step toward her to gauge her reaction to him. She held in her breath at his possible movement. She noted that he grinned and then he pulled down the hood of his cloak. Dark, purple horns that curled to the back of his head were revealed, as well as a head full of silvery-white hair. His light-blue face ombrés into a dark, midnight-blue down his neck and chest. His skin glowed with white stars, peppered like freckles. His elven ears grew out into long, dainty points at the sides of his head.

He’s an elf! I could get into a lot of trouble being around an elf. She thought. Is he going to hurt me?

“You’re an elf.” She swallowed her fear, as she marveled at his dark, purple horns; intrigued by their sharp, hook-shaped points. Her green eyes took in his white hair, pointed ears, and midnight-blue skin that held a brilliant, white star on his chest. Then, they traveled back to a stop again at his intense yellow eyes. Is that a star on his chest? I’ve studied the elves of Xadia, but I’ve never seen an elf like this before. I am having a hard time placing his heritage. She thought.

“Yes, I am. And you’re a human.” His mouth curved into a small grin again as he felt her eyes follow every curve of his body.

Oh, how delightful. She finds me captivating. Typical, and amusing, really. Most mortals I come across do this, and yet, it’s adorable when she does it. Why is that? He thought.

“Yeah, I am,” she said, her voice wavered nervously. His smile disarmed her fear, making her heart beat faster. She glanced her green eyes away and began fidgeting with her hair. He watched her fingers run through her fiery locks and found her shyness endearing.

What a beautiful color. It reminds me of the Firelillies. He got a sly smile on his face with a knowing look in his yellow eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, little one. I am not here to harm you.” He offered her a friendly smile. “My name is Aaravos, what is your name?”

Aaravos? Like the famous Archmage? She squinted at him, deep in thought. Nah, it must be a similar name, there’s no way that elf can still be alive, right?

She took a deep breath, and her hands stopped fidgeting with her hair. She felt a little more at ease with his smile. “My name is Emillia, Emillia of Noct.” She nearly whispered in his presence. He heard her just fine with his elven ears.

“Emillia of Noct, it’s nice to meet you,” Aaravos’ eyes sparkled with interest at the mention of Noct, a quaint, peaceful human town. He took another step toward her and held out his hand. “This is how you humans still say hello, right?” The edge of his lips curved up again in a sly smile. Emillia couldn’t help but smile in return at his warmth.

Was this elf teasing me just now? She wondered.

“Yes, it is,” she tried to hold in a giggle as she took his hand for the first time. A light tingling warmth pulsed through her hand at his touch. His hand seemed a bit different than her own and she glanced down at it. She turned it around in her hand to see it better. He let go of her hand but did not withdraw his, keen on knowing she intended on investigating his anatomy. She stared at his hand for just a moment and then exclaimed. “You only have four fingers! So, it is true: Elves only have four fingers! That’s very interesting!”

His eyes widened in shock at her random shout, then it melted into a dumbfounded look. Has she never seen an elf before this? Why is she not trying to avoid me? A smile slowly reformed on his face as he watched her awe. Is it really this easy to excite her? He thought as he quietly observed her overstepping normal boundaries by examining his hand. She put her hand up to his, palm to palm. He felt the tingling sensation as their skin touched, like a lightning bolt but much less fierce. It ran up his arm and down his spine. His eyes fluttering for a moment as he felt it.

What is that feeling? He wondered.

Emillia felt a tingling up her arm but curiously studied his hand. The differences between them were quite palpable with her having an extra finger that did not match his four. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement as she traced the little stars that glowed on his hand. Look at those stars! She marveled. It’s like he’s made out of the sky. Is his whole-body like that? She glanced up his arms and suddenly her excitement dimmed. She pulled her hand away and cast her green eyes down, embarrassed. What am I thinking?

“I’m sorry, it seems I’ve managed to invade your personal space.” She flicked a glance up at him for a second then back down. Her hands folded behind her as if she had done something wrong.

What are you doing? Emillia, you’re insulting him. She thought. Her mind raced, unsure why she felt drawn to this enigmatic elf.

Aaravos’ expression softened, a slow, appreciative smile crept across his face. His attentive gaze turned from listening to gentle understanding. His low, smooth chuckle filled the room, like velvet cascading off the walls. “No worries, Emillia, you did not harm me.” He thought back to the tingling feeling when their hands touched. “If you want to touch me again, you may,” he said barely above a whisper. He watched as her face turned completely red. He felt a pressure inside, like a burning fire, as her skin changed color.

How intriguing and adorable. He thought. Should I tell her how beautiful it looks? Perhaps, I better not. He smiled at her with a level of patience that caught her off-guard. His yellow eyes full of intrigue and wonder. As she looked up at him, her mind whirled; torn between relief that he wasn’t upset and embarrassment.

Oh, now I know he is teasing me. I knew it! Her green eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of a smile played on her lips for a brief moment, but it faded quickly. Wait, he’s not offended? He wants me to touch him, but why? She thought back to the first time their hands touched, and the memory of the tingling feeling returned, she had almost overlooked it. What was that feeling?

Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand again and there it was, the tingling at his touch. Just like lightening. Aaravos’ smile widened, his yellow eyes sparkling with mirth. He didn’t move and simply let her with an amused look on his face. She let go and then grabbed his hand once more, just to be sure. Just as before, the tingling returned. She had a confused, quizzical look on her face.

Why does it feel this way when I touch his hand? Is this some sort of magic? Is this something that he can feel as well? She pondered.

Aaravos’ smile turned mischievous, and a barely audible chuckle emitted in his throat. He closed his hand around hers tighter and the tingling shot up their arms and down their spines. She shivered lightly at the feeling as he lifted her hand to his face and pressed it to the side of his cheek, in a very intimate gesture. As if holding his face with her hand. He gazed fondly at her.

Oh my, I wonder what kissing her could feel like. Would it also have this tingling sensation? He thought as he watched - with pure joy in his heart - her face turned scarlet again. The tingling now in his cheek. I do believe THIS is now my favorite thing. I should tell her.

What is he doing? And what is with that tingling just now? Why does it feel so.... good? She thought.

“Okay.” She took her hand away from his face while her blush still glowed bright crimson, nearly matching her red hair. The tingling in his cheek ceased completely. His smile faded for a brief moment, then returned wider and more captivating. “I think that’s about enough of that.” Her nervous giggles bubbled up between a few words. He seemed rather amused as he let her hand slip away.

She pulled away and yet can’t stop the giggling. I think she liked it. He thought as his eye lingered on her, analyzing her reaction. He also felt the tingling stop and a part of him never wanted it to. He cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling of longing in his chest.

“Your face keeps changing colors, why is that?”

“Oh, no reason,” she lied. Her heart skipped a beat, and a mixture of want and embarrassment came over her. She cast her green eyes down trying to calm herself, her gaze fell on the old, wooden flooring under her feet. She worried at the edges of her cloak, the intricate stitches a calming distraction.

What is with this guy? Why won’t he just leave it alone? She thought as she nervously tugged at the edges of her cloak. Why do I feel this way? I’m not ready to face this feeling. She drew in a shallow breath, and her eyes darted up to meet his again. Why is he teasing me? What do I do or say? Does he like me? No, Emillia, get a grip! He doesn’t like you. She silently reprimanded herself as she twirled a lock of red hair around her fingertip.

“Are you sure?” He mischievously nudged the topic, arching a brow at her. But to Emillia, it had seemed like he had read her mind. She stared up at him for a few moments, bewildered. Her heart pounding in her chest. Then, she released the strand of hair, letting it fall back into place as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Get it together, get it together.

Her face slowly turned back to its peachy color with freckles. She opened her green eyes and looked at him, a mixture of embarrassment, relief, and lingering shock swam in them.

“I have come here in search of lost scrolls, musty tomes, and generally forbidden knowledge. I did not expect to find anyone here.” She bowed toward him silently, her gesture lingered for a respectful moment. “I’m sorry to intrude on you.”

Did not expect to find anyone here? That makes two of us. He thought.

He chuckled, then while she was still bowing, he put his hand up and the book on the table sprang to life. As it leapt gingerly toward him, a soft rustling of the papers shifting was the only sound before it landed in his light-blue hand.

“If you are looking for something to read, perhaps I could part with this one-of-a-kind, handwritten book bound in old leather.” He suggested annunciating the descriptive words of the book with a harder, deeper voice. Almost like he was saying it on purpose to spark her interest.

The search for the mirror can wait, I’ve found something MUCH more interesting. She has so much potential. His yellow eyes looked her over, drifting down her body. He searched her, hoping to spot a reaction.

She gasped sharply and sprang up, her gaze snapped to his face. An almost desperate and shining excitement ablaze in her green eyes. “Yes! Yes, please!”

He graciously surrendered the book into her hands, with a slight bow of his head. “It is all yours, Emillia of Noct.” He lifted his head and gazed at her with a generous smile on his face. She took it and studied its intricately threaded seams, her fingers traced the carved four-pointed star symbol on the front of the leather. Her green eyes absorbed every detail as intrigue and excitement filled her heart.

This is a perfect book, look at the craftsmanship! I wonder who made it, or how old it is. She thought while caressing its seams.

“How will I return it to you?” Her green eyes lifted up to him as she held the book in front of her. At this, his chuckle returned.

“There is no need to worry about that, I will come for it personally, sooner or later,” he said it so casually, but you could hear an unmistakable promise in his voice. His smile hinted at hidden meanings. “Tell me, Emillia,” he said as he took a step closer to her, a mischievous glint in his yellow eyes. “How did you find this library? It’s hidden by magic that most mortal eyes cannot see.”

Emillia’s green eyes lit up in shock, they darted to his face. “Let’s j-just say I have a certain knack f-for finding hidden things,” she said, attempting to play off her own nervousness. But her voice trembled at a few words. She hugged the book closer to her chest, almost afraid he’d take it back.

He arched a brow with intrigue building in his yellow eyes. “Is that so?” He leaned toward her gazing into her eyes playfully. She took a step back at his advance. “What brings you here in search of: lost scrolls, musty tomes, and what was it.... generally forbidden knowledge?” His eyes squinted with a sense of fascination at the word forbidden as a sparkle of mirth danced in them.

Why is he getting so close to me? She thought. And why do I like it? I feel drawn to him and I’m not sure why. Does he know he’s alluring?

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she met his playful gaze. She felt a shiver slid down her spine as he leaned in, his yellow eyes searched hers, as if reading her like a book. “I’m just a curious scholar,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flutter in her chest. “I’m searching for knowledge that will help me...understand the world better.” Her courage was evident, yet her pause spoke volumes of her apprehension.

His smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, I think you’re searching for something more specific than that,” he murmured, his voice a bit husky and rich with a lingering mischief. “Something that might be hidden in those lost scrolls and musty tomes. Am I right?” He leaned a bit closer to her, a knowing look in his eyes as if he already knew the answer to his own question. His lips hovered just a few inches away from hers.

Emillia’s heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer, she felt her rear press against the table behind her, stopping her retreat. Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, gods. Now, he’s even closer. He could kiss me. How does he know I’m hiding what I want? She thought, feeling a sense of trepidation mixed with curiosity. What does he know about me? Can he ACTUALLY read minds? She hesitated; her green eyes darted around unsure how much to reveal.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on you. I’ve been searching for a way to help my mother,” she said finally, her voice soft with hints of emotional distress. She cast her eyes down as shame flickered in them. “She’s ill with what others are calling ‘Ash Lung’. No one seems to know how to cure it, as it is resistant to all our medical treatments. I’ve been pushing myself to find anything that might help me find a cure.”

Ash Lung? He thought, as his smile faded at her words. What an interesting term, I wonder why they used that name. He leaned away, the gravity of the situation not lost on him. His eyes softened as he knelt down, he tilted his head; trying to catch her gaze again.

“You are not intruding, Emillia.” His lips curled up, reassuringly. His voice low and soft, taking on a gentle melodic quality, like the smooth, dark tones of a perfectly brewed cup of coffee on a winter’s night. The deep, velvety sound wrapped around his words, enveloping her in a sense of comfort. She met his gaze, her eyes misted unspoken emotion. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother, but what makes you so sure what you are searching for is here?”

“I’ve heard rumors of secret knowledge hidden within these walls, like an ancient text or scroll. That holds the key to curing even the most mysterious of illnesses.” Her voice was laced with a mix of hope and desperation.

“Oh, have you?” He whispered, his yellow eyes glazed over, enigmatic. His smile returned, curving up playfully.

Her heart skipped a beat as his smile seemed to hint at secrets untold. “What do you know?” she whispered, her green eyes locked onto his, searching for answers. He slowly stood up meeting her gaze.

“Well, I might know of this hidden knowledge you speak of. Perhaps, I would be willing to part with it...” He leaned by her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “For a price.” His voice like dark silk in her ear.

Her heart raced as goosebumps ran down her arms. She turned her head, her green eyes meeting his yellow ones. “What price?” she whispered, her voice wavered lightly, tight with fear.

He leaned away, the smile on his face growing more and more by the second. His eyes drifted to her lips, then back at her green eyes. “What are you willing to give me in return?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson once more, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a flutter in her stomach as his gaze lingered on her lips. She tried to maintain her composure, but her voice came out husky. “I...I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”

Oh, that blush, I don’t know why exactly but I just love it. He thought as a smirk spread across his face. I could make her blush like that all day and not get tired of it.

He chuckled at her flushed response. “My request is simple enough, perhaps I only wish for a few moments of your time.”

Her green eyes narrowed at him as her mind raced with the possibilities. She tried to keep her tone neutral, despite her heart pulsing rapidly. “What would you do with a few moments of my time?”

“Oh, that depends. What do you wish to do?” His eyes sparkled with delight at their cat-and-mouse antics.

Her cheeks burned a deeper red, her heart skipping a beat at the suggestive tone in his voice. She felt a spark of electricity run through her veins as their eyes locked, the air between them charged with tension. Aaravos laughed at her reaction, a deep, low rumbling that seemed to come from his chest and the back of his throat.

“Oh, where has your mind gone?” His smile faltered, for just a moment. He feigned shock and put his four-fingered hand to his chest. “You wound my gentlemanly pride," he said with laughter, sarcasm hinted in his tone. “I merely wish to get to know you.”

Emillia couldn’t help a small smile at his theatrics. She raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with amusement. “Gentlemanly pride? I’m not sure I believe you, Aaravos.”

He chuckled lightly. “I’ll search my collection for your forbidden knowledge, my dear. While you think of something you would like to do with your time in my presence.” He smiled, then extended his elven hand to her. “Do we have an accord?”

She glanced down at his hand, hesitating for a moment as she weighed her options. Apprehension heavy in her stomach, she placed her hand in his. His firm but warm fingers closed around hers, almost locking her decision into place. “We have an accord,” she whispered, her voice raspy. Her green eyes snapped back to his.

His eyes were like setting sunsets, radiant, all consuming. They never left hers as his smile widened. They shook hands and he let go, as he lifted his hood back over his head, his smile remained. “Take care, Emillia.” he whispered softly, his eyes widened with emphasis at the sound of her name. Then, his skin became translucent as he vanished into thin air, leaving Emillia stunned and bewildered at what had just happened. And just like that, Aaravos was gone.

She gasped. What? Did I just sell my soul or something? Where did he go? As she gazed around for him, she now found herself in an empty looking library. A feeling of emptiness washed over her. That was definitely magic. Emillia pondered Aaravos’ enigmatic smile.

“Aarovos? Where are you?” she asked breaking the silence of the library. She walked around for a few minutes, scanning the room for any sign of him. He noted Emillia’s determination and smiled.

She would look for me. How bold and fearless? What makes her this way? He thought as he watched as she turned and walked toward the big wooden doors of the library. She glanced back over her shoulder.

How did he disappear like that? Where did he go? What an interesting elf. I’m not sure if I should leave, but perhaps it’s what is best. She thought.

“Take care, Aarovos,” she whispered, then turned and walked back out of the ancient library.

I really don’t want her to leave, but I have the feeling this is the start of something I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. He watched her walk out of the doors feeling both sad and excited for their next meeting.

Emillia of Noct, Age 24

Aaravos of the First Elves 2000 years old