Becoming Legend

Led by an enormous plain-looking ship, and another group of six array-coated ships was sailing across the seas of Scattered Bay. To the east, the sun was yet to shower the elves of its light. It has been expected by the navigators. Especially that elves were sought after for their beauty, and efficiency as slaves. 

Months of sailing and deceiving the seven seas, the elves (In human faces) reached their destination: O'rriadt Island. 

Over the horizon, where the wind meets the sea, Faeranduhl stood expectantly. All the elves, be it pure, half, or the two Elders stood with their thoughts suspended. 

Faeranduhl was on the second ship, just behind the enormous ship where the two Elders stayed. The seven ships formed in a V formation. Lia was on the last ship while the lead semsmir servant was positioned to the lead ship. 

The ships were close enough for Faeranduhl to scrutinize the Elders and the elves of their dealings. He could sense worry from the lead elf as they put in a circle along with the Elders. They murmured constantly on the upper deck while the other seeds of elves stood waiting behind them. And as always, shadows swayed all over the ships. Be it on a mast, the captain's cabin, or the rook's nest, Faeranduhl could feel the tightness of their security. 

Once when they were a few couple of hours away from their destination, Faeranduhl tried to extend his mana sense to the Elders. The one that made him the most nauseating feeling. The one where he felt the most dangerous of all the elves in the expedition. But he failed instantly as soon as his mana sense reached almost 15 meters away from the Dark Elf Madras. He was given a raised eyebrow instead. 

Faeranduhl never pushed his luck again. Seeing the Elders close already was too much for him, let alone extend his sense to them. His mother taught him courtesy, and invading their mana sense was not one of them.

A falcon breached his thoughts hovering from the dimming sky. It kept on circling for over a minute then went to land on one of the elves over the lead ship. 

They were stationed to stay on the boat before any further commands from their lead seed leader. 

They must have been examining the island for hours already. They seemed to be worried about something but Faeranduhl put the thoughts behind his mind as he started giving the first meal of their day. It was at that moment that Faeranduhl noticed the look of worry on the elves. They have been traveling for months, but he never noticed this worry. Eyes closed, sweat drooping, and they just sat still. Only then that Faeranduhl give the bowl of soup and a piece of bread they looked better. Perhaps the food, but Faeranduhl tasted the food, although not bad, but it was something made of aged wheat, just bland. 

As soon as the ships moved, Faeranduhl knew—or felt, the mana surrounding him. He had been careless with his mana sense before and so he shut them off. But unknowingly, his senses were heightened as though someone or something was forcing inside him. Like needles piercing his skin. His senses were forcefully opened. As the ship got closer to the island, Faeranduhl fell to his knees, throwing the bowl of soup. Sweat, like grains of salt and corn, was tracing his forehead uncontrollably. His dark eyes shaking and his breath ragged as though afraid to leave his lungs. They might as well be because as the ship gets closer and closer to the island, the feeling of something like his very life was in shackles that just getting tighter and tighter. It was the very first time he felt something out of control of his life, it was far worse than what Gadsi had done to him. 

"You are not okay," one of the half-elf servants said to him. She stood over Faeranduhl holding the same bowl he spilled. He did not even hear her move closer to him, nor did he sense her. "Seasick? I get it. I know the feeling. But you are worse." 

Faeranduhl did not respond, he could barely think or hold his breath. Seconds passed, the ships stopped and so was Faeranduhl. 

***

When he opened his eyes, he was somewhere inside the ship, below the deck he assumed. With him were soldier elves, sleeping soundly. 

"You collapsed." Somewhere inside the room was a voice. 

Faeranduhl has yet to open his eyes. The ship stopped moving and the waves were calm. No wind, nor voices, not even muffled ones, aside from the voice he seemed to recognize. 

"You can cut my mana flow but you can't protect yourself from it?" the voice said, seeming surprised. 

Faeranduhl peered his eyes to see Gadsi, in Lia form, placing torn cloth to the forehead of a sleeping elf. He immediately closed his eyes thinking of the mana in the surroundings he was not able to recognize before. 

"Don't worry," she said. Her voice was soft in an eerily quiet and darkened room. "Elder Calanye constructed a pendant to keep the blight from entering your body." 

"Blight?" he mumbled, still in closed eyes. 

"Yeah. They're not necessarily harmful," Gadsi said as she moved from one elf to the other, putting a cloth on their foreheads. "Blights are tainted mana that attacks us elves." 

"Us?" 

"Pure form of mana," she continued, "the purer and stronger mana you got, the more you are susceptible to the blight. And the keener your senses, the more you can feel it, the more it felt painful." 

Faeranduhl turned to his left, leaving the molded ceiling, and peered at Gadsi. Fingers feeling the pendant on his neck: a smooth wood in a rod shape. 

"How come you don't have one?" 

Gadsi eyed the wooden pendant on his neck and shook her head. "You—we're semsmirs," she trailed, "we're not supposed to be affected by the blight because—" She stopped, looked over his shoulder and to the sleeping elves, there were at least a dozen, or 15 of them lying flat on the wooden floor. Almost a minute passed and she stood beside Faeranduhl, gazing with his dark eyes. "Because, although pure, semsmir's mana is not as pure as the elves, or the three higher kinds. And you are not supposed to have that level of mana sense. For a half-elf you are different." 

"I get it," he mumbled. Faeranduhl was a half-elf and half-human so his blood was tainted. But he must have gotten his mana from his mother, who was an elf. And his mana sense he trained for long that he has better senses than his peers. 

"Lucky for you," Gadsi said, grinning. "The elves and the Elders have no time to look into you. Perhaps when they are done here, but I doubt that." 

"Why?"

"Because we are here." 

The ships were anchored closer to the shore of O'rriadt island. From the distance, although the sun was above them, the island was closer to an evening with starlight flashing in the distance. Faeranduhl could barely discern what he was looking at. The island was shaped crescent in the distance, mountain tops covered with snow were casting shadows over the flat of the island. Sparks of red and yellow were flashing on the inside of the mist. Fume of black and grey were warping over what seemed to be buildings of some sort. Too vague for Faeranduhl to see. The only way to know what was going on was to move closer.

And moved closer they did. 

There were dozens of tender boats the merchant ships the elves used to make it to the shore. They were careful not to use too much of their magic for them to not be detected by the humans as they travel the seas. Not until they reached the shores though. 

Lia was left to tend the remaining elves. She was dismayed to be left in the ship. Faeranduhl has yet to learn why she was on the expedition and why she was using magic to hide her presence. But it was for the better. Though she seemed capable, Faeranduhl rather wanted her safe. 

As soon as they reached the shores of the island, Faeranduhl and the elves shivered from a heavy apprehension lingering in the air. 

The elves marched to the front, bows ready and arrows nocked. The army of elves lined the shores. In the middle was the pair of Elders murmuring with each other. They lined the shores like ants ready to attack. 

Faeranduhl and the semsmirs carry bags on each other. One of them, the leader half-elf, signaled his group to move to the Elders. There were at least thirty of them carrying one of each sack. Faeranduhl's feet sunk to the greyish sand with the added weight of the sack, that by now he assumed some stones as they clink on each other.

Moving closer to the Elders, aside from the silence, screeching and screaming were heard from the distance behind the dead forest. 

Moving up closer to the shore, Faeranduhl's presence was caught by the craters scattered on the sand. Destroyed wooden houses, small market stands, almost unrecognizable by the passing of time, and burnt marks. To the utmost front was the city hall, or what was left of it. Its topmost part was knocked down. A huge hole broke what seemed to be a massive wall made of marble protecting the city hall. The craters, the destroyed buildings, and houses were not destroyed accidentally but as though someone battled over them. 

Faeranduhl and the semsmirs stopped. Before them, the pair of Elders looked at the distance: closer to the shore and the wall of the building. Light from the sun and dark clouds were transitioning overhead them. The Elders stopped murmuring as soon as they noticed the half-elves standing before them. 

For a moment, one of the Elder, which Faeranduhl assumed to be the Elder for High-elf, Elder Calanye, threw a glance at him. He dismissed it immediately with the thought of him being insignificant for an Elder to notice him. 

Elder Calanye waved a hand. Golden hair tied in a knot. Speck of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. These same eyes were radiating wisdom and command. He wore a white battle robe, lined with pure gold and pure silver bars on his shoulder that coiled on his shoulder and arms. On his waist radiated a white sword without a scabbard. The sword was leaking a ghostly aura. Faeranduhl squinted his eyes trying to focus more on the sword. 

His thought was abruptly cut after the elf, the commander of the regiment of seeds of elves, shouted a command and signaled the leader of Faeranduhl's group. 

The blight was heavy as they moved closer to the city hall of white marble. Faeranduhl turned his head to where the blight seemed to be the strongest. It was somewhere at the bottom of a mountain in a thick forest. 

"The Gate," Faeranduhl whispered to himself. 

"So you can feel it," a voice, regal and strong but wrapped in age, rang to his side. "We'll have to see if it is our hope and if it is connected to our Realm." 

Faeranduhl lowered his head in a snap. He could barely look at Elder Calanye standing, and talking to him. To him? Faeranduhl hoped not. But it seemed that he was.

The rest of the semsmirs and the elves following them bowed in response to the voice. 

They now stood closer to the destroyed city hall of the island. 

The commander of the elf stood beside Elder Calanye and said: "Have the stones set up inside!" he paused and pointed to the center of the city call. "That's where the portal will be."