The pair ran through the woods, Metimafoa falling behind due to his short legs, despite the fact that the LeShay was slowed down by Orónëminya's damaged form. "The camp is not much further." The Fey would chant occasionally, but it sounded so desperate that Metimafoa was unsure whether The Fey was talking to him, or to himself.

Just as Metimafoa's hope drew to an end, they came around a wooded hill, and the LeShay encampment appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Mallori was instantly at work, placing Orónëminya's unconscious form on a table that had evidently been cleared off for medical purposes.

He called over his shoulder, to Metimafoa: "There should be a pot of boiling water hanging over the fire."

Metimafoa realised after a second, that he would say no more, and grabbed the pot, using leather gloves found nearby. He ran the water over to his sister, then faced the LeShay, awaiting more orders. The Elf-child watched in shock, as the LeShay poured some of the water onto his own hands, before tearing open Orónëminya's shirt, and bandages, to expose the wounds.

The mud had caked, and the rims of her dirt filled injuries were red with swelling and infection. Mallori began to dig the dirt out, but the mud had settled and was sticking to her flesh. Eyeing the pot of water, the LeShay gestured, and the young girl tapped on Metimafoa's shoulder.

Metimafoa turned to face her, at the same moment that Mallori took a cupful of the scalding hot water, and poured it into Orónëminya's wound. She immediately began to thrash about, still unconscious, her body reacting naturally to the stimulus.

Metimafoa tried to turn around, having heard the ruckus behind him, but the LeShay girl held him fast, her appearance of six, being much older, and stronger, than his appearance of four. Glancing at her in surprise and rage, he attempted to look over his shoulder at his sister, but the girl turned his face towards her and explained "He is only trying to help her, Metimafoa. Stay back, and let my father work."

Metimafoa tried to hold back his rage, but he could not keep it out of voice. "She is my sister," he hissed, his words, dripping with venom, "and I will do whatever it takes to save her, but can you truly expect me to trust two LeShay exiles, who I encountered in the woods less than three hours ago." She released him, hurt evident in her expression, and regret struck him. "I don't even know your name." He tried to offer as an explanation, but having minimal social skills, his apology had no effect.

She stalked off into the woods, climbed a tree, and was lost from sight.

Metimafoa was torn. He wanted to stay with his sister, but he felt compelled by his guilt to go make up for his harsh words to the girl.

Eventually, it was the words of the LeShay girl, telling him to stay back,  that made him go after her. He was of no use to his sister, but he could right his wrongs. 

Walking over to the tree, he couldn't see the Fey girl, so he began to climb, his weak arms barely able to pull himself up. He got about halfway up, when he saw movement in a nearby tree and knew it was her from the flash of pale white skin that he observed. Standing on a nearby thick branch, he gauged the gap between the two trees, and in a moment of absolute stupidity, decided to jump.

What Metimafoa failed to calculate in, was the fact that although he had the mental capacity of a young elf, he had the body of a four year old one. He barely pushed off at all, and went less than half the distance, before beginning to fall. He heard a rustling sound up above, him, and was jerked to a sudden, and painful stop by a pale-skinned hand, clutching his left arm.

The LeShay girl pulled him up onto the branch and stared at him with an obvious sense of curiosity. Sitting down next to him, she grabbed onto his arm, and in one quick motion, with no warning, yanked on it and relocated it. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, to prevent him from falling out of the tree, his scream stifled by her hand over his mouth. "Quiet now, Little one. Father would kill me if he knew you had been injured as well."

Metimafoa was spluttering with pain on the tree branch, for about three minutes, before he calmed down enough to turn to the girl, and say: "Thank you for catching me..." He trailed off, realising that he still didn't know her name.

She smiled at him, and said, "My name is Nolgaion. Nolgaion Pilindil, Metimafoa." She saw the comprehension of her name's meaning in Metimafoa's eyes, and concluded, "We LeShay don't share the names of our parents. If we did, we might act in a manner that favors our family, instead of our society."

A look of confusion appeared on Metimafoa's face, but he said nothing about that. After a moment of awkward eye contact, Metimafoa verbalized his gratitude. "Thank you for catching me, Wise One."

She was no longer looking at him, but instead, she was gazing westward, at the sunset. The sky was illuminated with shades of orange and red, swirling in the clouds making a color scheme that can only be described as Kaleidoscopic.

Metimafoa saw it as being beautiful, but he was surprised to see Nolgaion staring at him in horror, and fear. When he asked her why she answered: "It is an omen. What curse have you brought with you, son of Meneltarma, that has soaked the world with blood?"

Her eyes flashed white, and she spoke in a voice that was not her own.
"Four remain, to answer the call,
But before the end, two must fall.
A brother and sister, each to die,
Their blood, the gods, to satisfy.

But more will perish, than these two,
Elf, man, and LeShay are a few,
Who will meet death, by mortal hands,
Some in pairs, and some in bands.

Is it all worth it in the end,
If, to gain power, you lose a friend?
Yet you will lose one closer still,
Before the gods have had their fill."

Her eyes faded back into their pure black state, and she looked a little drained, but she quietly repeated a couplet of the prophecy. "Is it all worth it in the end, if to gain power, you lose a friend? Is it, Metimafoa? How much death, is the throne worth? How much life? Can you truly say that this, Gygax, isn't a better ruler than you will be?" She quieted slightly, and asked, "Can you honestly say that your actions have been good and that his actions have been bad? Why is it better for you to be on the throne than it is for Gygax? It may not be."

Metimafoa glanced around in a panic, looking for someone to pass her questions on to, but he was alone with her, and it was, therefore, his responsibility to answer her. "No one has ever asked me my thoughts on any of this. I'm not quite certain that I know how to answer you, but I will try." He turned toward her, and continued, after some consideration. "My family didn't rebel after the death of my father, and Gygax's Ascension to the throne; they rebelled after he committed crimes against my sister, Faramaurea. What happened after that, I am not sure, but the next thing I remember, was watching my Aunt, Nimloth II, drag herself to the door of the room we were in. Her words were few, but she urged us to flee to the stables, and watching her die, we knew that we were all that remained." He looked away, unable to meet her sympathetic gaze. "We fight him not for power, but for justice. At least, I do."

Metimafoa stood up and went to walk away, but Nolgaion grabbed his wrist, to stop him. "Sit, Metimafoa. Let's talk for a while longer."

. . .

Eventually, Mallori came to find them, with good news. "Metimafoa!" He shouted trying to find them, but when he did, they had both fallen asleep, Nolgaion holding Metimafoa in her arms. He woke them gently, and with a smile, he began to guide them back to camp.

Though the two children were both groggy, and the hour was dark, Metimafoa still immediately asked him about his sister, and how she was doing. Mallori smiled once again, and answered, "That is why I came to find you, actually. Your sister is awake, and although she is tired, she wishes to see you immediately."

That woke him up quickly. Metimafoa sprinted ahead toward the now visible tents and fire. In his haste, he stumbled over a tree root, and fell flat on his face, but he got up without a word and continued.

Orónëminya was laying on her side, facing away from him. The small fire gave the area an eerie orange glow, that barely kept the darkness at bay. He reached the table, and whispered, "Orónëminya?" He was unwilling to speak too loudly, as though his voice was a source of further pain to her.

Orónëminya rolled over, her dark hair falling in front of her eyes. Metimafoa brushed it back, behind her left ear. "Metimafoa? Where are we? Who are these people? What happened? Are you alright?"

Metimafoa looked her in the eyes and waved off her questions. "Are you alright?" The concern in his voice was evident, so Orónëminya answered him.

"I am... sore, but alive, thanks to your friend here. Now, who are they, and what is going on?"

So, Metimafoa explained to her what had occurred since they had reached the rapids in the river. He explained how she had been thrown from the craft, how he had tried to help her, the mysterious appearance of Mallori and Nolgaion, and his decision to entrust her life to Mallori. He concluded with "Realising that I would be of no use to you here, I wandered off to talk with The LeShay girl, who I learned was named Nolgaion Pilindil, until Mallori came to find us. Now, we have arrived at the present." He paused and took a deep breath. "What are you thinking?" He asked his sister.

She turned her eyes toward him, and tears ran down her cheeks. "We are too young, to suffer so." She wiped her tears away and tried to stand up, but Mallori stopped her, forcing her to lie back down.

"I'm afraid that you are too injured to leave, but I may have a solution to two of your problems," Mallori explained, as Metimafoa stared at him curiously. "How familiar are you with the Teleportation realm?"

"We've heard of it, " Orónëminya responded, with a glance at Metimafoa in hesitation, "but we've never been there." She wiped a tear, and wondered, "Why do you ask?"

"What if I told you, that there was a way to allow you to safely age, without changing the actual flow of time here?" He answered cryptically.

"What are you saying? That you can make us older?" Metimafoa asked, his curiosity peaked.

"No," Mallori smiled, and explained, this time clearly, his plan. "In the Teleportation realm, the flow of time is not directly correlated with the flow of time here in the Grounded Realm. You could stay there until you aged sufficiently and then come back, at the exact moment you left. Do either of you know the Dimension Door spell?"

The two children shook their heads independently, and their visages visibly fell in disappointment, but a voice from behind Mallori renewed their hope. "They may not, but I do."

Nolgaion stepped forward to her father's side and turned toward him. "Father, I can go there with Metimafoa and Orónëminya, and bring them back, when they have sufficiently aged. Then I will bring them back, and all will be well."

Mallori considered this carefully. He was not exactly comfortable being separated from his daughter, for as long as this would take; at least on her end. He loved his daughter, and in every father's heart, there is a deep, innate, fear of losing his children. However, he could see both side of the issue and the necessity, of her, going. He could not leave his post, and the children needed a guide, which left her as their only viable option.

"Will you accept my daughter, as your guide?" Mallori asked the elves, displeasure with the plan evident on his face.

Metimafoa nodded vehemently, which made Orónëminya smile. "We accept your daughter, Nolgaion, as our guide." More quietly, she asked him: "Are you absolutely sure that you are satisfied with this plan?"

"Satisfied? No, but I accept the plan's necessity. I cannot abandon my post here, even for the eight seconds that we would be gone." He looked at his daughter. "If all three of you are in favour of this plan, then it is not my place to oppose it. Orónëminya, I will pack you a bag, but the two of you, come with me so that you can pack your bags. You leave tomorrow."

As the trio marched away, Orónëminya saw Nolgaion slowly slip her hand into Metimafoa's, and he clasped it gently. She smiled, and laid back down, quickly falling into a restful sleep.

. . .

The next morning, she awakened wrapped in a green blanket, under a red sunrise. She stared at the crimson sky, and stretched, taking note of the fact that her ribs and head no longer hurt as much as they had the day before. She sat up cautiously and looked around for the others.

It was early morning, and Metimafoa was sleeping in a chair, which was seated next to Nolgaion, who in turn was sitting next to her father. The wooded area was silent except for the low murmur of their conversation, which was carried out in the soothing tone that LeShay voices possessed. It was so soothing, in fact, that Orónëminya had to fight the urge to go back to sleep. Instead, she stood up, and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she walked toward the three of them.

Nolgaion noticed Orónëminya first and cleared her throat to alert Mallori of her presence. Then she courteously asked, "Orónëminya, how do you feel?"

Orónëminya's mind flipped a switch, and her mood and mannerisms went back to their formal state. "I am well, mellonnyar. How are you?"

Mallori laughed out loud, which caused Metimafoa to stir in his sleep. More quietly, so that he would not wake the Elven Prince, he told her: "There is no need for such formality among friends. In response to your question," he thought for a moment, and silence filled the void as he considered his response. "I am apprehensive, but that is unimportant. You all leave in an hour, and while on my side only a few seconds will appear to go by, you will be in a new realm, for a millennium and a half. You two," he said, looking at the two girls, "are like daughters to me; one of you literally. It is said that children grow up fast, but aging a millennia and a half in a few seconds gives that new meaning." He gazed out over their heads, at the fading sunrise. "May I draw the two of you, to remember you as you are, not as you will be?"

Nolgaion reached out, and took his hand, and said, "You may, but I will always, be your daughter. You will always know me, and I will always be by your side."

Orónëminya set her blanket down and warmed herself by the fire. Then, she watched Mallori grab a notepad, and a small stick, which he burned the tip of. When he had blackened the end of the stick, he blew on it to cool it. "Make yourselves comfortable. This will take awhile."

They sat across from him and moved into different positions. Nolgaion leaned forward, resting her chin on closed fists. Her elbows rested on her thighs, near her knees. Her dirty blond hair framed her Sylvian features, which were further illuminated by the orange glow of the firelight.

Orónëminya sat her chair, her legs crossed at the knee, and her hands rested in her lap. Even in a relaxed pose, her body language expressed formality. The fire glinted in her eyes, and gave her a fiery beauty, despite her being filthy, and her clothes being wrinkled, torn, and muddy.

For the better part of an hour, Mallori drew them. The drawing was black, white, and grey, but he captured every detail that he could. Just as he finished up, Metimafoa awoke and walked over to Mallori. He stared at the illustration; his gaze flickering between it and the girls until Mallori informed them: "It is finished."

He smiled at the two of them and turned the drawing around. On a piece of leaf-paste paper, was a very badly drawn illustration of the two girls. "I'm afraid that we LeShay aren't the greatest artists." Setting the drawing down, he rose and gestured for them to do the same.

The two girls stretched; their muscles stiff from sitting in the same position too long. He embraced them together and said. "When you return, you will have aged over a thousand years. Everything will be the same, as when you left, except the three of you. But that, dear ones, changes everything."

He turned on his heel without another word, and headed toward where they had hung the bags up in a tree; to protect them from animals. Ascending the tree quickly, he tossed down their bags, before descending once again. He sighed in resignation. "I'm afraid, young ones, that the time has come for you to pass from this realm into the next. " He nodded at his daughter, and spoke unto himself, saying: "Who would have known that it was not my daughter's fate to die, for the Kingdoms, but to live, for their heirs? So be it."

Nolgaion Pilindil opened up the portal and gestured for the children to jump through it. Orónëminya entered it without hesitation. Metimafoa hung back with Nolgaion to watch her embrace her father. She stepped towards the portal, putting herself between it and Metimafoa, before turning back to glean the last glance she would have of her father for the next 1.5 thousand years.

It was at that moment that a bolt of light struck Mallori, and he was thrown against a tree, knocked unconscious immediately. Nolgaion started toward him, but Metimafoa, in a rare moment of quick wit, tackled her through the portal, which immediately closed behind them. At that moment, a group of bandits, led by a man in a red cloak, walked into the clearing. 

While the Bandits looted, the man in red slowly walked toward Mallori's unconscious form and laughed. "Boys!" He shouted, his tenor voice echoing through the small forest glade, causing a pair of pale white birds to take off in a fright. "Get some rope. This LeShay gentleman isn't dead." He turned toward his motley crew and grinned  "A good thing too. He's worth more that way to the Elders."

He walked away laughing, as a flash of light appeared in the glade behind him.

Dear Readers,
I hope you are enjoying this book so far, although, according to the Wattpad Demographics tab, my readers are fading away faster than stains do once my grandmother gets ahold of them.

First, I would like to thank all of you, not only for making it this far but for being generous with your recommendations and time. If I receive a recommendation, I have a ninety percent rate of acceptance of the idea.
Second, although it ties in with the first part, if you see any errors, poor writing, or points of interest, please comment your thoughts. I generally respond within 8 hours, and if I like your idea, I will probably take you up on it. 
Third, I highly recommend The Catalyst by VenomousKitsune, The Tendrils of Fate by inksorcery, Fated Secrets and Fated Life by FatedLife, AEsa by UnderMySkin, Threads of Fate by Nakrosa, Pretty much anything by BadPenname, The Blood Dagger Chronicles By MGHayesWriter, Kieva, The Dragon's Heir, and The Dragon's Tournament by SnowInParadise, The Anariel Novels by AMBrossart, Shadow Weaver by Clare-Merle, The Silver Blades Series by Marc_Morrell, and The Bloodmoure Chronicles by JRSheperd. Honestly, the only reason I tagged you all was so that you could see each other's books, and read them. There are a lot of good books(like those above), and a lot of bad books(like mine) on Wattpad and this list may help you sift through them. As a side note, some books I am planning to read may not be up there, so if you don't see your name, hold your horses, I'm working on it.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and stick around for more to come.
Namarie, Mellonnyar!

Isaiah Oakley Le Istya