Night of Souls, Autumn's Reign, ~11,000 B.C.E.

Perched upon a twisted tree branch I observed the inevitable skirmish awaiting ahead. On the limb adjacent me sat the raven; the perpetual thorn in my side of these past seven years. In this moment, the two of us waited beside one another studying the same sight, ever monitoring. Regardless of my distaste for that bird, I realized it had been essential to shaping who I became in my newfound life. However, this raven was but an extension of She-Who-Wanders' cunning and unpredictable nature, and in that regard, She and I had become kindred spirits.

Below, the two great hunter races of the Fae opposed one another. On one side, waiting among the sacred wood from which they were born were my fellow Elves, and on the other, standing upon a vast moor, were the Goblins, steeled and ready for combat.

My roost suited me well, but to truly assess the situation I needed a better view. Observe and wait for the proper moment to strike: this was simple Hunter's logic.

My focus shifted back to the raven. I studied its anatomy meticulously, careful not to leave out a single detail. When I had its image in my mind, I shut my eyes and surrounded my entire body with the dark nebulous energy of Autumn magic.

Normally the feeling of magic is a similar sensation to wading through a cool stream. However, on the Night of Souls, Autumn's ever transformative nature was at its peak. This was not a cool stream. This was the heat of a volcano exploding through an oceanic typhoon.
Vicious. Rough. Wild.

And I couldn't feel more alive.

My form shifted; my body twisted; my stature shrank. Feathers sprouted from head to toe, and my feet became talons. I looked at the raven and it looked back at me. We were the same. It cawed at me in an approving manner before taking flight high above the treetops. Instinctively, I followed. The magic behind this transformation gave me the latent understanding of flight and how a bird's anatomy worked. We Hunters used shapeshifting tactics often to better understand our marks.

I peered below with the enhanced panoramic focus of a raven's eye. In my increased scope of vision, it was easy to spot the various Goblin raiding parties, including their leader, the Erlking.

He stood several heads above the rest; gargantuan, muscular, and bulky, a jarring juxtaposition from his lanky subordinates. While most Goblins wore traditional furs or leathers suited for hunting, the Erlking, being a prideful king, bore his trophies upon his person as both a badge of honor and protective armor. Adorning his chest were what appeared to be the rib bones of an unidentifiable creature.  Sheared joints made for gauntlets and grieves. Perhaps, however, what was most noticeable though, was the mammoth skull covering his head like an oversized helmet. In the hollowed out holes where the mammoth's eyes once laid, Erlking's own amber orbs pierced through. He brimmed with strength and poise. Even from my current vantage I could feel the magical energies around him buzzing, growing; they were alive. He was no petty goblin. I had only felt this kind of power from Fae like Orison or She-Who-Wanders.

The thought of challenging him excited me.

"Elves of the forest!
Choose: be hunted down as dogs,
Or dare challenge me!" he bellowed in a boisterous battlecry.

The surrounding trees shook violently. The pressure of his magical energy grew with every vibration. Almost all of the Woodborn covered their ears in pain. All but Orison.

Orison's hazelnut eyes stared ahead with calm, calculated focus. Beneath his greying, tangled moss of hair his ears flicked at the sound of Erlking's roar. A subtle twirl of his fingers, and the small twig he was concealing transformed into a long, ornate staff. He planted himself in front of Erlking with fearless grace and poise.

Erlking's feline gaze met Orison's own collected stare, and suddenly his boisterous demeanor changed. He spoke again, this time, his tone far calmer and more respectful than before.

"You are indeed strong;
A foe worthy of my skill;
This shall be most fun."

His tone my have calmed, but there was little cordiality in those eyes. Instead there was hunger. Adrenaline. Focus. Pure primal instinct felt while on the hunt. I knew that look well.

The greater the mark, the more Erlking lusted for the growth spurred from its challenge. Apparently Orison had sparked his interest as no creature has before. The other Goblins were intimidated by Orison's aura when they first felt it. But not Erlking. He was inspired. Eager.
Hungry.

"Erlking, you are indeed a mighty warrior and hunter. But I do not need to use magic on you, to defend my home. It is for those reasons that I am willing to let you and your Goblins leave safely. If not-"

Orison was interrupted by the ground quaking beneath them.
That fool.

Erlking didn't care about his life. The challenge of conquering was his life. To offer it back at him without so much as a fight was spitting in his face.

Even from my elevation, I could feel the ground rumble under Erlking's growl of disapproval.

"If you will not fight,
The Woodborn will die instead.
Goblins hunt supreme!"

It was after Erlking's threat that the unexpected happened: She-Who-Wanders' raven dove through the air with speed that rivaled a falcon. Taking it as a cue, I followed as best I could.

I landed on a tree branch just above their heads. Stealth was my ally. The leaders of the two factions had redirected their attention to the cloaked figure betwixt them. The magnitude of power now coming off of the three of them was suffocating.

"How now! Who are you?
Are you to be my next prey?
I shall indulge you!" A still heated Erlking clamored.

She-Who-Wanders shot him a piercing glare and his retinas seemed to freeze over. His hostility reduced as he took several steps back to regain his composure.

"You..." Orison said slowly, still aghast at her presence.

"Indeed," She smirked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I am helping someone who has lost their way," She answered coyly.

Firm, Orison assured her, "We do not need it!"

"We will see," She responded with a cold smile.

I continued watching their exchange from above. Something was not right about any of this. They were both being abnormally elusive. Even Erlking was catching on, as thick skulled as he may have been.

"If one does not fight,
Then, by Summer, all will die.
I grow impatient!" he shouted again.

Having revealed herself to a large group for once, She-Who-Wanders decided to respond to this one. Not that any of them could have stopped her anyway.

"Unfortunately, Lord Erlking of Summer Court, this is not my battle to fight, so I am but a witness here. However, you will not be fighting any of them today either, as Orison of the Woodborn has indeed used the magic of Autumn to mask his true identity from you!"

This was news to me.

Confused, I peered over at "Orison". She-Who-Wanders grinned a smile that could freeze ice and mouthed the words trust me to him.

Frozen smile on her face, she continued, speaking loudly and clearly: "The reason he will not fight is not because he is Orison, pacifist and spiritualist of the Woodborn, but rather, he is Arawn: the Masked King, Ruler of Annwyn, and Lord of Autumn. If he were to fight the Erlking, it could start a war between Autumn and Summer."

This was news to me.

As Hunters, we become accustomed to the sound of silence in the wilds. We can train ourselves to hear heartbeats and seismic vibrations. The lack of sound from either side; from even Erlking, made silence in the wild seem like a thunderstorm in comparison.

After a moment it was Erlking to finally speak up.

"Lord Arawn or not;
This land is now defenseless.
Will none stand to fight?"

And I knew my moment had come.

I leapt down from my perch, returning to my natural Elven form.

"Who's this before me?
Arawn, I see your true self.
No more tricks from you!"

Orison, or as I should say, Arawn, peered at me blankly, briefly, before redirecting his attention back to the emboldened Goblin. When he spoke, it was in a fashion similar to Erlking; a tongue of cadence and  magics; the tongue of Fae royalty.

"There are no tricks here, great king of Goblin,
He's a Pariah, and no longer kin.
He has lost his name,
And likely seeks fame.
I am not the one that brought him this night
But I know his pride, and he wants to show his might."

I found myself smirking at that statement. It seems Arawn knew me better than I gave him credit for. Damned old fool.

Erlking ignored me, entirely disinterested.

"Arawn cannot fight...
The rest reject magic use...
What glory is there?"

They bored me.

I was tired of this. I had not traveled all this way and spent two damn years just to watch them debate and others speak for me. It was time for my voice to be heard across both tribes. I did not care if he was the Lord of Autumn. I raised my hand at the Erlking.

"Do not underestimate the Woodborn! We have defended against you for this long without Arawn. They even survived when they foolishly banished me, the best damn Hunter that has ever walked these woods! But because of my exile, I am not bound to their ancient edicts, either. So, I will fight you, and I will use all the magic I want to do so!" 

Nebulous magic flowed around my arms. It continued to grow stronger.

Roused by my challenge, the Goblins let out a sonorous cry that echoed through the forest. Erlking remained quiet, staring at me intently. His eyes flashed with the lust for battle. He had caught the scent of my magic and now had the bloodlust of a shark. He would not stop hunting me until one of us was dead.

I did not care. I was far too caught up in the moment. It was time to talk action

Without waiting for an answer I turned back around to face Erlking and asked him: "Shall we begin, then?"

He chuckled deeply and a clear magical pressure distorted the air around him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Arawn stand next to She-Who-Wanders. They whispered to each other, but despite that, I could still hear them. I think her and I were still connected from our raven forms.

"Careful...Pride always comes before a fall,
Years of exile, yet nothing has changed at all.
I will watch him close.
For he is morose.
This is a dangerous flame you're fanning,
What is it exactly you are planning?"

She-Who-Wanders' cold smile gleamed in the corner of my eye.

"Autumn is the season of change, Arawn.
Forward I look, to the next season's dawn."