Trapped in the Den of Alphas

Chapter 2

Eden's POV

EARLIER THAT DAY

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. The scent of the forest soothes my soul in so many ways. The delicate whisper of morning dew hangs in the air, clinging to my skin, wrapping me in its fresh, cool embrace. I listen to the sound of robins and blackbirds gleefully twittering and tweeting their morning tunes. The forest replays their glorious chorus, with every chirp bouncing off the grand, towering trees overhead. I open my eyes and smile a smile that’s just for me as I watch a bright yellow butterfly land on a nearby oak tree.

I like to be alone.

In many ways, I prefer it. It wasn’t always this way, but perhaps after one hundred and twenty-seven years of living, one does become accustomed to the sound of their own internal voice.

I bend down to examine the contents in the basket by my feet before gently selecting the delicate blooming flowers around the base of the large tree.

White Spike Weed.

It only blooms this way at dawn, so it’s the best time to find it. I place the flowers in the basket and cast my eyes over the other beautiful flowers nature offers me this morning. My attention settles on a little Bluenette that has unfortunately seen better days, its petals beginning to turn from a vibrant blue to a dull shade of gray. I frown as I look at the little guy. The flower itself is pretty worthless in terms of its magical or medicinal properties; however, it’s always one I have admired for its sheer beauty. I place my fingertips on the decaying petals and channel my energy towards them, letting myself feel nature’s powerful lifeblood run through me. After a few seconds, the flower’s stem strengthens, and it stands to attention like a proud member of the Elven Guard, its petals bursting with vivid color once again. “That will do.” I smile, taking one last look around to make sure I have everything I need. I pick up my haul for this morning, three rabbits and a selection of some of the rarest plants and flowers in this ancient forest, and take off for the village. Considering how I planned my morning route, it isn’t all that far. Before too long, I arrive in the heart of Azealea, which is now coming to life to begin a new day.

“Eden, you’re early today!” Findell calls out as he sets up his produce cart.

“It's my lucky morning, Findell!” I call back with a smile, lifting the basket into the air triumphantly as he chuckles in return.

I carry on my journey with a smile, nodding at all the friendly faces who greet me as I pass by. Wood elves, such as those here in Azealea, are peaceful and friendly by nature. They keep themselves busy by caring for each other and the enchanted forest they call home. Their lives are simple, but they have plenty of heart, as my father always says. If I had to guess, I’d say he misses living here just as much as I do sometimes, although he would never say the words out loud. After all, being invited to live amongst the high elves by the king and queen personally is a great honor for someone of his humble upbringing. He wouldn’t dare dishonor them by admitting that he misses his old life here in Azealea.

That’s where my father and I differ. I, for one, can’t help but appreciate the simple, uncomplicated beauty of this place and all the fantastic elves living within it. Occasionally, I think I would like to live here again. To spend my time hunting, studying herb enchantment and healing alongside my father and grandma. I daydream about it sometimes when life is hard at the palace. When the scheming, rumors, royal politics, and other s**t gets out of control. I can’t say the thoughts haven’t prompted me to consider moving back here alone, but I know that would humiliate my mother and father, which is the last thing I want to do. There’s also the fact that I am not the typical wood elf myself anyway. They are gentle beings, passive and kind to a fault. Both are traits which I can’t honestly say that I possess. I know in my heart that I can be stubborn, headstrong and argumentative. All with good reason, of course!

Pia Náre

That’s what my father called me growing up. It means little flame, which I suppose was a pretty apt nickname.

So here I am. Eden Nestoriel. The Nowhere Elf.

Neither a wood elf nor a high elf, just somewhere in between!

Eventually, I reach my destination at the village’s edge and enthusiastically knock on the small cottage door.

“Come in, Eden!”

I open the door and duck as I enter the cozy living room, looking around to see the fire roaring with a large iron pot hanging over it. I enjoy these weekly visits to see my grandparents with supplies. They tell me I don’t have to bring anything when visiting, but I want to help out.

“You’re early this morning!” Grandpa Erwin calls, walking toward me to help with the supplies.

“Yes, I got an early start. Lots to do today.”

He nods knowingly but says nothing else as he places the game meat on the kitchen table. The action draws my attention to the shiny, golden envelope lying nearby. I’m not entirely surprised to see it remains unopened. Every year my grandparents are invited to the Palace of Morween to celebrate the anniversary of The Culling, and every year they fail to show up. Despite being the only wood elves to receive such an invitation, I know already there is zero chance they will attend tonight.

“Morning, Eden.” Grandma smiles as she enters the kitchen, walking over to give me a gentle kiss.

“Hi, Grandma, you are looking beautiful this morning.”

She chuckles as she pours me a fresh cup of daisy tea, and I sit at the wooden table as she passes me the cup.

“Ahh…a bountiful hunt this morning, I see,” she says, examining the overflowing basket.

“I managed to get some White Spike Weed by the gully. I know you have been using it a lot lately.”

“Thanks, dear. This will come in useful.”

“What kind of enchantment are you working on anyway? I’d love to help out.”

She laughs as she reaches across to pat my hand. “Oh, that’s okay, my dear, you know me. I’m always experimenting with this or that. You have enough to do at the palace.”

I smile in return, but I can’t help the slight tinge of disappointment that nags at my insides. Grandma took great pride in teaching me her craft when I was little. Her enchanted potions and medicines have helped the villagers countless times, and I have always been fascinated by her gift. A gift that she also passed down to my father. But since he took a job working within Morween, Grandma rarely includes me in her work anymore. Most of what I have learned in my studies has come from my father; however, even he would admit that my grandma’s talent, magic, intellect and intuition are unmatched. They are a blessing from Ira, the Goddess of Nature herself.

“Anyone for breakfast?” Grandpa Erwin asks eagerly as he pulls some bread from the stone- fire oven.

I nod gratefully, and he gets to work cutting the thick bread into slices.

“So…are we just not opening the invitations anymore?” I ask, bringing the cup of tea to my lips innocently.

Grandpa stops in his tracks, glancing at Grandma Citrine, who sighs softly. “Oh Eden, Morween is not a place for elves like us. We have no interest in going there.”

“But I’m there…and so are Mother and Father. I know they would love to see you—”

“No, no. It’s not the place for us, dear.”

“What about the celebration? The end of the war with the wolves. It’s an important part of our history, is it not?”

Her eyebrows rise slightly as she shakes her head from side to side. “It’s just like the high elves to remember war and death as if they are a cause of celebration.”

I frown in annoyance. “But Grandma, it is a cause to celebrate or at least a time to reflect. The wolves almost tore our lands apart! My Aunt Felou, your own daughter, died at their hands. Not to mention countless others! Men, women and children! When the Elven Guard finally defeated them, it brought peace to the kingdom and every creature within it—”

“Enough,” she interrupts abruptly, in a harsh tone I have never heard her use. From the look on her face, I can see there’s no point in me carrying on my rant. Instead, I take a deep breath, swallow my burning hatred for now and nod my head.

For a few seconds, an awkward silence hangs in the air.

“So…how about that breakfast then?” Grandpa asks brightly, placing the wooden bowl filled with delicious bread in the center of the table.