2. Aiden

2

AIDEN

I swung my leg over the saddle and dismounted, letting my horse's reins hand free. He moved over to munch on the blossoms of the apple tree next to us. That tree never stopped blooming, and the petals had a pleasant, honeyed taste that we both enjoyed.

The view from the mountainside was breathtaking as any other prospect in Alfheim. Unformed magic tinged the crisp mountain air, though this area had deeper roots in reality thanks to our recent human guests.

Even here, the enemy, boredom, clamped my mind. Though lovely, the view became tiresome; the rolling green of the forest cascading down below me like an emerald river, commonplace. Cu, my horse, cantered down the side of the mountain, seeking a fogbank to rest in while I thought.

"Dull," I muttered under my breath. I didn't will the landscape to shift, since everyone benefited from reality rooting in Alfheim. My over responsibility was why all my compatriots viewed me as a total bore.

The land's perfection held no interest without flaws. Humans yearned for the flawless, elves had learned the boredom of perfection too well.

We enjoyed the Earth for its charming blend of beauty and ugliness.

When traveling, the dimension Dream when it slept was entertaining; part of the fun being tweaking Martellus the Troll King. Bran, the Goblin king was the titular king of Dream, but Martellus was Dream's own child and had more say in whether or not Dream permitted change.

Also, he was stodgy and easily exasperated, always good for a laugh.

I called for my fiddle mentally and turned to find it nestled against the base of an ancient pine. Body under my chin and bow in my hand, the strings vibrated with life when I drew the bow across them. A melody filled the air, weaving between the trees. It carried my thoughts forward, away from the stillness of my location.

What to do next? The tune circled that question, spiraling toward an answer that eluded me. I needed something... other. My bow moved faster, the song growing wilder, chasing the pulse of adventure that thrummed just out of reach.

The last note of my fiddle's song faded into silence as I pondered recent events. The barrier to the human world had been lowered after I bargained with a human, Cassandra. Cassie Quinn, she called herself. With those barriers gone, a fresh influx of humans had come into Alfheim.

Since the Formless Ones, our ancient enemies and cousins already had a foothold on that world, it was best to preserve some of the inhabitants. While we elves had a bad reputation, we didn't strip and destroy worlds before moving on. The Formless Ones did.

And there was always someone stupid and greedy enough to let them in.

"Or we could war," I muttered, the idea leaving a bitter taste. We shared ancestry with the Formless Ones, yet our choices had diverged long ago. They chose possession and ruin, while we elves enjoyed the tangible—the richness of life embodied. Their incursions spelled disaster for worlds, though to be honest our revels could be destructive as well.

In the past, when we both found a world we coveted, we fought. That left behind scorched realities, all mortal life caught between us ended by an ancient feud.

In the beginning of those conflicts, we offered sanctuary—sometimes called captivity—to a chosen few. A conservation effort of sorts, preserving pieces of what was lost within the malleable bounds of Alfheim. Their worlds could be recreated by them, making the loss less.

It was a heavy thought, one that weighed on me even as I tucked my fiddle away.

An image of Cassie flashed through my mind. She was an enigma, a human brimming with untapped magical potential. Her power simmered beneath the surface, raw and untrained—like a nearly irresistible perfume for me. Also, a beacon for the Formless Ones.

A prize either way.

"Blast," I swore softly, feeling the stirrings of concern. When they sensed her, they would try to possess her. As I'd seen her, Cassie was vulnerable, her defenses untested. Yet a fire burned in her that couldn't be ignored. That flame could save her or doom her, depending on how the winds of fate and luck blew.

Intervention was called for, and I was the man to do it.

The crunch of gravel underfoot drew my attention away from my now more pleasant thoughts. I turned to see a tall, thin woman making her way up the mountain path with an ease that belied the steep climb. Her gray hair caught the light of Alfheim's eternal dawn, and her slight smile held secrets as deep as the valley she had traversed.

"Hello, Luck," I greeted her as she approached, dismissing the concept of coincidence. She had a knack for appearing precisely when least expected but most needed. Or when you wanted her least.

With a slight tilt of her head, the smile playing around the corners of her mouth deepening, she corrected me. "I go by Ms. Fortuna now, thank you." Her voice was smooth, like the fine silk tunics favored by the high elves of the eastern glades.

"Ms. Fortuna," I said, tipping an imaginary hat her way, "What brings you to this mountain, this day?"

"Your interest in the human Cassie," she replied, folding her hands neatly in front of her, "has not gone unnoticed by me."

"Do you plan to intervene?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

"Not at all, but her fortune is about to shift." Ms. Fortuna's attention felt heavy as a stone on my back, the weight of her words landing even before she spoke them. "Cassie's ex-husband has made a dark bargain with the Formless Ones. He plans to trade her to them, shift the possession from him to her."

My fingers tightened around my fiddle. "That spineless worm," I muttered. Cassie, for all her raw, untrained magic and fiery spirit, wouldn't stand a chance without aid.

I stood up abruptly, casing fiddle and bow. "Not on my watch," I declared. Cassie had reached out to me via another elf earlier, something about wanting to meet up, and I'd been too distracted to respond. Now, it seemed like fate had nudged me.

"Thank you for the heads up, Luck," I said, not bothering with her preferred name. She simply nodded, an enigmatic smile still playing on her lips.

Knowing what would probably happen and not telling anyone much was one of her most annoying quirks.

With a sharp whistle, I called for Cu. He materialized from the mists that clung to the mountain's flank, his ethereal form solidifying into muscle and sinew as he ran up the mountain to my side. Mounting in one fluid motion, I nudged the beast forward into the air, willing us to cross the veil.

The transition between worlds was always a jolt, the first crossing calling a rush of magic that pricked at the skin like a thousand tiny needles. But once attuned to your destinations, the sensation became more bearable, tingles rather than sharp jabs.

I opted to pass through Dream first. The veil parted around me and my steed, like curtains drawn back by an unseen hand.

Within the realm of Dream, I needed to tread carefully; Dream had awakened and held its secrets close. It also seemed to have some quarrel with my father or grandfather; I'd never inquired as to the details. Dream had slept since my earliest childhood and had been an interesting place to visit. Now it woke, and the dangerous edge it took made it an even more interesting place.

"By the pact sealed by Cassie's word, I take passage," I murmured, focusing on the delicate threads of the contract she had unwittingly woven when she bargained with me. The barrier shivered, then softened, allowing me entry to Earth.

"And now we see if we can turn Luck on her ear," I said to Cu as we emerged in the air over the city Cassie called home. He descended to the street, and I dismounted.

The city's pulse thrummed beneath our feet, a cacophony of human life that felt foreign after the ethereal silence of Alfheim.

So many people, so many merchants lining the streets behind walls of glass. All different sorts of shops, all gathered together to attract attention to their wares

Across the street, a pet store. That one's wall of glass was alive with the movement of small creatures pacing in their confined spaces.

With a flicker of dislike, I stepped off the curb. My horse's equine form melted away to be replaced by a lean, silver-furred dog. People passed us without a second glance, accepting the loyal pet that now walked beside me.

We entered the pet store, a bell tinkling above the door announcing our arrival. Rows upon rows of cages lined the walls, each a small prison containing a feathered or furred inhabitant. The air was heavy with a mix of scents: sawdust, kibble, and an underlying hint of desperation.

"Can't say I like this sort of shop," I muttered, attention lingering on a parrot preening itself with half-hearted pecks. "You lot should have a voice to tell these folks how you're feeling."

My companion, now in dog form, whined softly, pressing against my leg. A silent understanding passed between us—we both knew the natural world didn't abide by such rules, but that didn't mean we had to like it.

I raised my hand, fingers weaving through the air as I whispered an incantation. Magic pulsed from my palm, invisible threads stretching out to touch each animal within the store. A hum of energy buzzed, and then silence fell, broken abruptly by a chorus of words.

"Excuse me," came a haughty, slightly nasal voice, "my water is tepid and tastes like plastic." Startled, I turned to see a fluffy Persian kitten, its blue eyes fixed on a young employee who stood frozen, a water jug in hand.

"Also," the kitten continued, unabashed, "the kibble's stale. It offends my palate. Do better."

The employee blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Around us, other animals joined in with their own complaints and demands, creating a cacophony of critter commentary.

Satisfied, I gave a nod of approval. It wasn't every day I could correct a wrong, however small. With a last glance at the emancipated animals around me, I beckoned Cu with a jerk of my head. "Let's go."

We left the pet store behind, the newly vocal inhabitants still making their opinions known. Fresh air hit my face, and I couldn't help but smile, reveling in the minor chaos I'd left in my wake. It was time to find Cassie. Her home was not far from here.

I strode down the bustling street, Cu trotting at my side, the cacophony of modern city life enveloping us. The way people bustled about, consumed by who knew what, made it a peculiar yet amusing place.

But my mind moved elsewhere, to Cassie.

She intrigued me. I had seen her wield her latent power with an innocent clumsiness. Beneath her controlled exterior, her magic seethed like a tempest contained in human form—wild, untamed, and utterly captivating. And then there was her outward appearance: she possessed curves and an earthy grace lacking in the women of my people, a warm contrast to the often chosen forms of elvin women.

I couldn't help but admire the way she moved, all grace and fire rolled into one.

Boredom vanished as I remembered how she'd flare up when riled, her cheeks blossoming into shades of crimson while she launched into a tirade. It was quite the spectacle. Cassie didn't just get angry; she became the embodiment of fury itself, something to behold and never forget.

But as quickly as the joy came, it faded. A shadow came to my thoughts, that her vibrancy was as ephemeral as a human lifespan. Cassie would age, wither, and pass from this world as all mortals must.

That, I admitted to myself, would be a great sorrow.

Unless I made a bargain with her, to grant her the elixir—an expensive and time-consuming concoction that would extend her life. But I needed to bargain with her for it, and first she had to know about it and want it. I'd need to work on that,

"Come on," I urged Cu, my new project in mind. "We have someone very special to see."