When she was finished with her meal and had cleaned up after herself, Aphen sat down to translate the note Railing Ohmsford had given her several days earlier. She had not felt pressured to do so before now, but Woostra’s visit and the ghostly presence of her sister had generated a need to do something more than sit staring out at the darkness.
She began slowly, but the language was familiar, a rather crude variation on the same ancient Elfish used by Aleia Omarosian in her diary, and soon she was working her way through it quickly. The note was written by Aleia’s Darkling boy, and Aphen had no doubt that she had taught him the language he had used to compose the note while they trysted all those centuries ago.
She wrote out the words carefully, read them through once swiftly to affirm she had them right, and then read them a second time more slowly.
She was crying within seconds.
My Dearest Little Elf, Aleia:
I can only hope you do not hate me too badly, but I will never know for certain. By the time this letter is read, you and I both will be long dead. I did not intend for matters to end this way. I risked too much by taking all of the Elfstones but the seeking blue and hoping you would use them to come to me. But events conspired against us, and now we will never be reunited.
Know that I love you and will always love you. I took the Elfstones because I could tell I would lose you otherwise, and must find a way to bring you to me. I intended nothing more than that you find me; I never gave a single thought to using the Elfstone magic against you or your people. I was desperate to hold on to you and took what risk I deemed necessary to do so. But my transgressions were discovered, the Elfstones were taken from me, and I was imprisoned. I was disgraced and declared a traitor. No one would listen to my explanation; no one would heed my pleas. When you came searching for me, I was locked away and magically concealed from you and from the blue Elfstones’ power. My people had magic also, you will remember, and they used it.
Still, I thought to escape and come to you. I sought a way to make that happen. But all of my efforts failed.
When a new form of magic swept up all of my people and their allies and many other creatures and exiled us to another world, I knew there was no longer any hope. At first, we did not know what had happened. It seemed as though we were still in our former world, but the landscape had been ruined and the air and water were fouled. Everything was dark and hazy and bleak. Thousands of us died. I was released finally, for those in power saw no particular reason to keep me locked away.
I was old by then, after all, and no longer a threat to anyone.
The Elfstones had lost their importance. Efforts had been made to make use of them, but an Elven magic can be summoned only by Elves. The Stones had become nothing more than a reminder of how powerless we were and how shamefully we had been treated. Along with other magic and other talismans we had come to possess, they were locked away and mostly forgotten.
But through the kindness of a friend I have gained access to them. When this note is finished, I will place it in the case where the Elfstones remain and hope that someday your people will find it. I have no reason to think that will ever happen, but I must do what I can. I do not want to be thought of as a thief and a liar. I do not want the record I am sure has ben written of my treachery to be the final word on what I did. Or of what you meant to me.
You must believe you were everything to me and will remain so until the day I die. There will never be another. If I could have one day back in my life, I would choose a day I could spend with you. Nothing would be sweeter. Nothing would mean more.
And so I leave you, faithful to the end, lost in another world.
Your one true love, Charis.
Aphenglow Elessedil put down the note and wiped away her tears.
“See what love brings you, Arling?” she whispered.
But at least now she knew the entirety of the story of Aleia Omarosian and her Darkling boy, Charis.
She wondered with whom she would share it.
Thirty-five
Weeks passed. Railing had been back home for almost three months, his memories of the past starting to lose their sharp edges and grow less painful. Mirai was living with him at his home, embraced by his mother in a way he still was not. Sarys had come to accept Redden’s condition, and had even told Railing it wasn’t his fault. She had forgiven him, she said, for his part in what had happened. But she looked and acted differently in his presence, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of perceived failures in his character or a fear of losing him as she had lost Redden.
Whichever it was, it hurt him enough that he could not manage to put aside either his sense of guilt and failure or his deep, abiding sadness. He could only press on, helping with Redden’s care and trying his best not to disappoint his mother further.