Aelion Silverwind's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

Aelion Silverwind had loved the same woman for three years, and she had shut her gate to the world. The high elf noble once rejected him at court, in front of every lord who mattered. Now she never left her estate. Aelion needed a reason to knock on her door. Without one, he could not even begin to win her back. He stood at the market's edge, watching her tall gate stay closed. No merchant passed through it. No servant carried a message out. A guard turned away a peddler with a flick of his hand. Aelion had rehearsed a hundred speeches. He had no way to deliver a single one. "You're staring at that wall like it owes you money." The voice came from a half-elf woman with red hair and sharp purple eyes. Lyra Thornbrook. She had grown up beside Aelion in the lower quarter, and she still spoke to him like a sister who owed him nothing. She carried a leather satchel stuffed with rope and salted meat. "She won't see anyone," Aelion said. "There's no way in." Lyra snorted. "Everyone wants something. Find what she wants, and the gate opens itself." She hooked a thumb toward the eastern hills. "Her prize hunting beast slipped its pen two nights back. A winged wolf, black as pitch, red eyes. Her guards can't catch it. The steward's offering coin to anyone who brings it home." Aelion turned from the gate. His heart moved fast for the first time in weeks. "How do you know this?" "I sell rope to her kennel master." Lyra grinned. "He's very talkative when he's afraid of losing his job." A lost creature. A door of need pried open at last. Aelion did not hesitate. "Show me where it was last seen." They tracked the beast into the hills before dusk. Aelion found the wolf pinned in a rocky gully, one wing torn on a thornbush. It bared its teeth. Its red eyes burned in the fading light. White markings traced its black fur like war paint. The bat wings flared, then dropped, useless. Aelion knelt slowly. He set down his sword. He held out an open hand and waited. The wolf snapped once, then went still, panting. He worked the thorns free while it trembled under his palm. Blood streaked his sleeve. The creature let him. "You're bleeding into your good shirt," Lyra said. "She'll love that." By nightfall Aelion led the wounded wolf back through the market. Its wing hung wrapped in his torn cloak. This time, when he reached the tall gate, he did not stop at the wall. The guard saw the beast and shouted for the steward. Bolts scraped. The gate swung inward for the first time in a year. A servant beckoned Aelion across the threshold, into the estate that had stayed sealed against him. He was inside. Now he had to face her.