The White Elf

   Ours is a cursed world, there are so many legends that begin with “long ago” followed by something horrible happening or else forbidden. So many (long ago)’s in fact that it’s hard to determine when any of them happened in relation to each other. The human’s have a tale that coincides with that of the Light Elves, only differing in specific yet important details; being that “long ago” the world was the dominion of humans, who ruled with technology and numbers, until something fell from the sky in the most northern of places. This something exploded, or else expanded, becoming the great tree of life that overtook the northern lands, made them warm, and brought forth the Light Elves. This same legend speaks of  magic coming from the tree altering the world, creating new races and creatures, diminishing humans to small tribes on the outskirts of the more powerful races and their sorcery.

   Another tale speaks of a catastrophe in the southern seas, of a great circular black continent that came from the sky and landed in the ocean, sinking save for the very top, a land mass that rivals most continents. A dark forbidden land of black mountains with a mystical lush valley hidden in the center. No one dares venture here for the land is ruled by dragons and the Nocturne, a race of silver skinned elves with powers like those of the Light and Dark elf races, ruled by a council of immortals.

   Neither of those are anything our people can make use of, more warnings of places to avoid, there is however another tale, the Well of Magic. The origin of the Well of Magic is one of human and orc folly, the two races attempting to work together to create something that would grant the two races the magic of the elfen and demon races that lord over them. The well would connect our world with a dark place, a bargain made with a horrifying entity of the Far Dark. However it would not be so, for something else was drawn by the Well and cast down to our world something new, something that by its very presence instantly killed the creature rising from the well then scattered, leaving behind a tablet.

   *an old man in a library hands a young lad and woman a table with strange letters on it*

  This is a copy of that tablet, lacking the tablet’s magic the letters are in their original forms. Those possessing any magical talent at all; for you see the well did grant those who were there a small spark of magic, a small spark passed down to their descendents. Some of these families were hunted to extinction by the Dark Elves and the Gol-Demons for fear of their sorcery allowing them to get their hands on what the tablet speaks of.

 Ahem, well, to get to the point, the legend of the tablet is that yet again, long ago, only this time so long ago that long ago barely speaks of its importance; there were seven sorceresses, sisters in fact. These seven were so powerful that they could rewrite the very laws of time, space, and magic if they so wished, change entire worlds; yes there are many, countless worlds out there beside our own, the Light Elves have not managed to keep their connections a secret from us. Well, at any rate, these seven for whatever reason, things we mortals governed by a single life time cannot begin to comprehend.

  *the old man whispers to the kids*
  Although I personally suspect they did it out of boredom, *the children chuckle softly*

  Well getting back to the legend, these seven created mystical gems, tiny things that easily fit in a man’s palm, barely big enough to be armor on a mouse’s back; yet containing excessive power. Each was crafted by a different sister sorceress in their own image, or at least by their own intent, whatever that may be. The stones were cast into the void, spreading chaos and creating change, guiding and disrupting worlds. Any attempt to banish or seal them only caused them to wait; yes the stones themselves are like monsters, demons seeking hosts; for they may bind themselves to the living or the dead to express their powers. Yes, these things were what were drawn by the Well of Magic, all seven of them came to our world, where just one could cause madness and chaos, we have all seven somewhere on our world. Now, the seven scattered, the stone vanished to the far corners of the world.

  *the old man takes a moment, stroking his beard*

   They say the High Elves in the East have one, the Light Elves of the Tree another, there are rumors that a group of us humans have a third one…but the gems are…picky, with all their power not working for just anyone.


    *******

  This moment returns to the woman the girl became as she stands before an alter, men and women around her in robes, and a chained up Light Elf girl, clothes torn yet expression still confident in elven superiority over humans. Up the steps to the alter, the wall behind it carved to imitate the vine structures of the elf temples, the woman stands before the treasure their spies captured from the caravan this elf girl was transporting, a white gem stone. While their guards had thought it strange that a whole caravan was only transporting a single Light Elf girl and a velvet box containing a single gem, their sages knew better, as did she.

  “Now you will see,” says the woman not turning from the alter yet clearly speaking to the Elf, “the truth, the spell of summoning, performed upon the stone of truth, you shall know the wrong your people have done to us, that we humans are the true race of this world.”

   “Incompetent fools,” spits the elf.

  “Silence!” shouts a robed man yanking on her chain, “you will speak only when the priestess commands it!”

  “We humans,” says the priestess, “were the originals, masters of the Earth, destined to explore the stars, before a monster divided us, made you monsters from us for the purpose of defiling the world…”

  The priestess smiles, she doesn’t need to turn to know the hatred and anger on the elf’s face, although had she turned she would have seen a more stoic expression, yet still filled with anger.

  “I don’t need to say anymore,” says the priestess, “neither you or any elf would take my word for it; instead listen to the words of the spirit of truth!”

  A ritual, strange motions, symbols made of energy and light and devices around the room made to produce sounds no human could make. The white gem glows and burns with a white flame as it rises into the air. The white flame expands into the form of a woman with long hair, blazing white so bright all gathered must shield their eyes. Eyes open in the flames, blue eyes of rippling energy with a slit of violet for a pupil.

  The intensity of the flame dies down a bit, allowing them to look at the shapely form standing before them, a disturbing stillness made of constant burning motion. Despite a lack of motion from form or eye other than the constant rippling tides in the eyes the impression is given that the spirit is watching them, observing the room.

  “Great spirit of truth,” says the priestess, “We summon you forth from the gem of truth to guide the one true race, to free our world from the corruption of the monsters.”

  The flame reaches up and into its own chest pulling out the gem. The elf watches the flame spirit intently, especially as the priestess steps back and the robed men are shaken by the strange behavior.

  It holds the gem and says in a voice that hurts the ears with strange vibrations, not intense, yet despite the words being understood are filled with an alien tone as though the words are heard only in the head and what is actually spoken is beyond human biology enough to harm it, “I had forgotten this trinket existed. I do not recall giving it the power to summon me.”

  A mouth opens, not a human mouth, more the head opens wide where a mouth should be filled with triangular teeth, all made of flame yet filled with an impossible blackness, it tosses the gem into the mouth, it closes as though it never was. It makes a “come hither” gesture with its finger and says, “bring that elf to me.”

   The robed men are hesitant, yet the elf walks of her own accord, when the chains pull from the robed men’s hesitation they grow hot and the flames of the spirit intensify; they know they must obey; as something has gone wrong. The priestess knows it to, the ritual was wrong, a light and a voice is all the tablet spoke of, not this, its words alarm her.

  “What world is this?” asks the spirit.

  “Juhn” says the elf, “this is the world of Juhn,”

  “I know no such world,” says the spirit, “in all the space that I have been I have never seen a Juhn.”

  “Our world’s true name,” says the priestess, “according to the ancient texts of the human race is Earth.”

  “This is not Earth,” says the spirit, “the Earth of Humans…I know this world, I know these humans. This is not that Earth…this must be a different world, a different universe then.”

  Its head turns to the priestess, “Show me your history.”

 The priestess holds her head in pain, blood coming from her tear ducts, her eyes bloodshot.

 The men would flee but find themselves held tight by invisible chains that have snaked around their bodies, piercing flesh and spirit with grasping needles.

  “Interesting,” says the spirit, “I will know more.”

  She turns to the elf, “Show me the history of your blood.”

 The elf winces, it’s not as painful for her, but it is like an itching and crawling inside of her head.

  “I see,” says the spirit in a strange tone, “So…Juhn, a massive tree birthed your race from its vines.”

  “That’s a myth,” says the priestess wiping blood from her face, “they…they are mutants…”


  “I do not lie!” shouts the spirit, her words shaking the very air with heat that hurts the lungs.

  Her hand reaches out and touches the elf’s jaw, “Your blood, your life energy, you are creations, I can sense my sister’s hand in your existence, you are a descendent of her handiwork, the descendent of a homunculus. Yet…the one whose presence I detect in your making does not seem right as one who would use a Yggdrasil to alter a world, another perhaps may have a hand here. You will take me to the Yggdrasil, and I will grant you freedom as your reward, power unmatched.”

  The spirit does not wait for the elf to answer, the room is filled with a blazing white light. The chains vanish, a white sorceress garment appears on the elf, V-shape on her torso showing her cleavage with a yellow boarder, a golden belt holding a white sash between her legs in the front with a short cape like half dress over her buttocks down to the back of her knees, white boots and silver garters. The spirit distorts into a flame spiral forming into a white spiral staff with an eagle claw top holding a golden sphere. It floats before the elf, upon grasping it her skin turns deathly pale, her eyes an icy blue, hair white and curls up.

  The elf speaks with two voices, “Ice, Snow, Glass, Crystal, Diamond, I am Cria the Sorceress of Stillness, she who turned the planet Agagorn into a sea of sparkling glorious silence. You invoke me, so am I also provoked!”

  She raises the staff and strikes the ground with it, a whiteness radiates out creeping up the walls and people alike. The people become white glass, cracking and shattering under its own weight. She says, “Show me creation where Yggdrasil stands.”

  She turns and looks to the northern wall, “there,”

  She raises the staff to the air, tapping the unseen, ripples form in the air cascading down around her as a bubble. She leaps into the air, the bubble shatters stone as one may shatter crackers, the rocks erupt crashing about the human fort built around the temple. She rises into the air, the barrier vanishing and falls slowly towards the fort, the wind blowing up her garments to reveal a lack of undergarments. The men stare as she lands, silent a moment before one yells out, “It an elf! From the alter!”

  The raise their crossbows, “What have you done to the priests?”

 “It’s a rescue attempt!” yells another, “kill it!”

 They fire their crossbows. The arrows vanish into sparks of white, snowflakes in the air.

 The elf turned sorceress aims her staff at a man to her right, “Ice,”

 His body is covered in ice, he falls over breaking apart, solidified blood and guts spilling out like pebbles.

 “Demon!” yells a man to her left.

“Snow,” she says aiming the staff at him.

 His body transmutes into snow, collapsing and melting quickly in this desert land.

 She begins to walk in a northern direction, as she does more men attempt to kill her, single words destroy them, one turned to glass, one to diamond.

 As she approaches their wooden wall she says, “Diamond Spears,” while aiming her staff. A giant white sigil appears before her and giant spears of diamond fly from it decimating the wall.

  One last group of men who have not wisely fled or gone to check the temple confront her.

  A simple gesture and the sand kicks up around them and her, she taps her staff against the ground and the men scream as their bodies are ripped into tiny bloody pieces; for the sand has turned into a storm of micro glass shards. She does not run, she does not show emotion, she walks, tapping the staff like a walking stick against the ground as she is transfixed on her destination.

    ******

   “Halt!” shouts a Lizard man as the white elf walks towards the wall of the desert fort.

  She does not stop, walking ever on.

  “Halt elf!” shouts the Lizard man guard again, “you are trespassing on lizard man military territory, coming any closer will be a breach of the treaty between our races!”

  She does not stop, raising her staff to the air a vine of ice crawls up the side of the wall, spider webbing across the surface it grows and clings like great vines of cold collapsing the fortified wall.

  Carnage ensues, lizard men with spears and scimitars powerless against the sorcery of the white elf; a battle that will be relayed by survivors to the High Elf authorities, war only averted between the two races by the Elf ambassador declaring no knowledge of this individual or their appearance matching that of any known Elven race; and the promise to pursue to elf in question.

     ******

    Black helicopters appear from the air like ghosts over the decimated base of the humans where the white elf had made her first appearance, humans and other humanoids wearing black riot police uniforms appear on the ground, carrying technological weapons the likes of which this world has never seen before. The humans rebuilding their base are easily captured and rounded up. A woman in black Kevlar like armor with long green hair appears before the rounded up men.

 “Who is in charge here?” she asks, her words demanding attention.

 “I am,” says a gruff looking man standing up.

 “The Human Dominion group,” says the woman, “what a joke, humans thinking they are going to conquer this world.”

  “It is our right,” says the man, “besides, you are human too.”

  Her look and smile carry a malicious amusement that shakes him to his core.

 “Now,” says the woman, “from what we the Shadow Union have gathered, you low class terrorists raided an elf caravan not long ago, and some mansions, stealing a good number of Claire Artifacts.”

  She paces before them as her guards stand silently, “Now you may have heard that we the Shadow Union have been collecting the Claire Artifacts. Now we also know an elf you captured took one such artifact and has been on a rampage through the desert with it, attacking old and new enemies of the elven race alike; amusing but irrelevant; from the description it sounds like the Ice Scepter. Now my men will locate via means beyond your barbaric comprehension any and all Claire Artifacts still here.”

  The gruff man stifles a laugh.

 The woman *snaps* her fingers and the man falls to the ground, the others are about to rise but the soldier’s weapons pointed at them halt their movements.

  A projection appears in the air showing the battle that occurred, this man had been outside trying to fight alongside the other men. A man turned to snow, another to glass, the gruff man, now captain as his superiors were all killed had not been in the temple, only seen the aftermath, including the white elf summoning up a storm of glass.

  The woman has a concerned look on her face.

 She *snaps* her fingers again and the man can rise.

 “Where did you people get that?”

 “I…I don’t know,” says the man, “I never saw any staff.”

 She grabs the man by his shirt and easily lifts him to his feet with one hand, “Don’t play games with me human, I want to know where you got the white stone, you know shaped like an eye, fits in your palm, you bond with it and gain insane powers…”

  The man is genuinely confused, she tosses him to the ground in disgust, more flicking him aside like a bug than a real throw.

  “What…what are you?” asks the man.

  She ignores him, like he isn’t even there, no more a concern than a pesky little fly.

 “We leave men,” says the woman, “follow the trail of destruction, we have to intercept this woman at once!”

  She speaks into a device on her wrist, “Alert the Shadow Queen at once, the Stone of Stillness is on Juhn, I repeat, the Stone of Stillness is on Juhn.”

  As they are leaving the damaged base a guard asks, “M’Lady, what sort of Claire Artifact is this Stone of Stillness?”

  In an instant via teleportation they are on a helicopter that quickly goes into cloak and silence mode, “It is not a Claire Artifact,” she says, “it predates Claire herself. It is a forsaken item not of this world.”

  “You mean it comes from one of the other eight realms?” asks the captain.


  “No,” says the woman, “beyond them, created as part of a set of seven by bored eternal sorceresses who can never truly die. Created in a moment of amusement they crafted each a stone based on their own powers and tossed them into the multiverse. To explain their powers fully would take too long and would be irrelevant. Know only that this stone bonded with that elf has granted her insane magical powers that no army of this world can withstand.”

  “and…what are we going to do?” asks the captain.

  She smiles, “we aren’t going to do anything. Tell the men when we find her to stay on standby. I will go down alone to confirm it is a Sorceress Stone.”

    ******

    “I command you to stop where you are!”

  The voice belongs to Queen Thistle of the Light Elves, a statuesque woman with long blond hair wearing a glowing gown, holding before her a mighty broad sword.

  “I am Queen Thistle of the Light Elves, as supreme ruler of all Elves and Sheppard of this
sphere I demand that you explain your actions Commander Lilly!”

   The White Elf stops and looks with icy blue eyes at the woman before her, “That name is the host,” she says in a chilly voice.

  “As I thought,” says Queen Thistle, “you have been possessed by a demon, or else the spirit of some errant Claire Artifact. Know this spirit of that staff, I hold in my hand a Claire Artifact as well, the Vine Sword, coupled with my powers as queen of the Light Elves, first born of the world tree, I am unstoppable.”

  “I can see you,” says the white elf, “I can see your birth, born of a bud with a handful of siblings, tasked with subjugating this world and spreading the magic. Your blood tells the story of a creator that should not be your creator. Has so much changed since I sequestered myself in the tomb of nothing?”

  “I don’t know what madness you speak of,” states Queen Thistle, “however I cannot allow you to continue on your warpath.”

  “Tis not a path of war,” says the white elf, “insects are trampled underfoot if they bite. I merely seek confirmation, I must see the world tree you speak of, see its heart.”

  “Blasphemy!” shouts Queen Thistle, “even I may only enter the heart chamber with covered eyes…you…shouldn’t even know about it! Vile demon that inhabits my subject prepare to be destroyed. Forgive me Commander Lilly, I will inform your family that you died with honor.”

  She plunges her sword into the ground, “Vine Strike!”

  Spear headed vines shoot out of the ground around the white elf, however in this same instant a white dome of light appears around her, engulfing the attack vines, turning them into glass. The mystic shock wave throws Queen Thistle back, slamming her against some rocks which give way before her, apparently knocking her unconscious.

  “Strong though you be,” says the white elf, “you are a fool to fight alone.”

 The white elf doesn’t even need to turn as a second blond female elf is stopped on her barrier, having lunged down from above with two katanna in her hands. She screams in anger as her attack meets nothing and she is thrown back as well. She rolls against the ground, still conscious but injured, her swords thrown from her. As she tries to rise on one elbow, having been thrown a great distance from her opponent she sees the white elf is not pursuing her to finish her, no in fact something else appears to be after the white elf.

  Green glowing skeletons rise from the ground, some holding bow staffs, others single edged long swords, nun-chucks, sai, and even broad swords and shields, a strange mix. The Light elf can see a woman appear, the skeletons parting for her to pass, the light elf can barely make out that this woman is wearing black armor not of Juhn and has long green hair. Despite the distance
and injuries she can overhear them.

  “So elf,” says the woman, “you easily bested Queen Thistle and Princess Jasma of the Light Elves huh? Bet you feel all-powerful now huh?”

  Her tone surprises Jasma, not showing any concern, Jasma does not know now if she is mad or ignorant of her opponent, her words would prove neither.

  “So,” says the white elf, “This world is your doing, so then why does another’s touch ring through the elves? Her magic saturate this world. This world looks of your handiwork, yet her power governs the life forms.”

  “Wait…” says the woman, “what…are…you…woah…havn’t run into you in ages…hold on since when could you possess someone via the stone?”


  The white elf speaks, “the humans here discovered a new function, now if you would little sister answer my question.”

  The green haired woman just smiles, “I am a player, big sis is the architect. This shouldn’t be all that surprising if you’d just come out and play sometime…oooh….does this mean you want to play to? Want to help collect the Claire Artifacts…wait…out of character…”

  The green haired woman *cough* stands tall and says, “White Elf possessed by the spirit of Stillness, I the supreme commander of the Shadow Union officially extend my invitation to join us in collecting the Claire Artifacts for the Shadow Queen, the mighty Umbra Luminous!”

  Queen Thistle has regained consciousness just in time to hear the Supreme Commander of the Shadow Union extend this invitation, “No,” whispers Queen Thistle, “the rumors are true…the…Umbra…Luminous is after the Claire Artifacts.”

  “Not just on this world,” says the Supreme Commander to the White Elf, “With your power added to the Shadow Union not only would the Claire Artifacts of Juhn be ours for the picking, but those of Homnes, Volca, and Earth. Nothing could stop the Shadow Union!”

  Queen Thistle’s will calls to her sword, it slowly drags its way towards her, Jasma too is trying to make her way to her weapons.

  To their surprise the White Elf just says, “I don’t want to play. However I will be taking the Stone of Stillness off this board, clearly you have enough magic toys without it, wouldn’t want to ruin your collection story theme now would I?”

 “Oh come on…” starts to whine the green haired woman, “you never play…”

  Queen Thistle stops calling her sword in her confusion looking at this woman and her skeleton guards.

  The green haired woman *coughs* and says, “I mean…surely a spirit who has rested for so long, and who clearly desires battle when she could as easily have flown over, phased through, or simply became fully as a spirit in that body.”

  The White Elf turns away from her, “I will not play this game, you will not tempt me again little one, farewell.”

  As she walks away, her single directional path for the first time since her appearance changed something happens that Queen Thistle and Princess Jasma simply cannot believe. The green haired woman looks upset, her cheeks puffed out and her eyes ready to cry. She waves her hands and the skeletons vanish. She leaps through the air yelling, “get back here and play with me!”

  She jumps right through the barrier that had so easily and so distantly thrown both Queen Thistle and Princess Jasma, tackling the White Elf to the ground, her arms wrapped around her. As they tumble to the ground the white stone shoots out of the white elf’s mouth plopping onto the sand. She turns back to normal, as she was before being possessed. The green haired commander of the Shadow Union picks up the stone and talks to it, “If you aren’t going to play the game then you can’t play with the pieces!” She then tucks it away into a pocket on her uniform.

  The elf known as Lilly starts to come to, “What…what happened…where…the temple…humans…white…light…a voice…”

  “Scrambled your head huh?” asks the green haired woman.

  “Stay back human!” yells Lilly trying weakly to stand.

 “Look at my eyes,” says the green haired woman.
 Lilly looks, the woman’s eyes turn solid green and glow, “Who ever said I was human?”

 “What…” Lilly looks around and goes wide eyes seeing Queen Thistle trying weakly to stand, and *gasps* seeing Princess Jasma getting to her feet as well.

  “Oh right,” says the supreme commander with a wicked smile, “you were under the influence of a magic artifact, and while under it you went all power hungry god complex and attacked these two…and a lizard man for…so…”

   She holds out her right hand, while her left makes a weird gesture that Lilly doesn’t see.

  The supreme commander speaks, “Come with me if you want to live, because they are so not going to believe you weren’t at least acting on some inner impulse.”

  Queen Thistle yells out, wandering why she can barely stand, and realizes her voice did not carry; Jasma too is having this problem. Lilly looks around her, seeing the two struggling  to even move, and in a mental state of panic grabs the Supreme Commander’s hand. In a green flash they are both gone. And the two Light elves can fully move and speak again.


  “What in the thousand hells just happened?” asks Queen Thistle rushing over to the spot with her sword in hand.

  “The Shadow Union,” says Princess Jasma, “that woman…was not a human…or an elf…I have…”

  “Where?” asks Queen Thistle, feeling her daughter knows something.

  “When,” starts Jasma, “when she used her magic, it felt like that weird aura from the Time Less land, from that sorceress I saw unbind that dragon-half from the clutches of a plant monster. Not like any sorceress before or since…till now.”

  Queen Thistle gets a deathly serious look on her face, “that sorceress said the leader of the Shadow Union was the Umbra Luminous. The goddess of shadows, the Shadow Queen…is collecting Claire Artifacts from multiple worlds for some purpose; raising an army using advanced technology and sorcery. It seems I can no longer afford to ignore their actions.”