An older elf, though far from elderly, spent their days deep in wine and dandelion. Their nights in tears and regret. They had done so many terrible things they were unable to forgive themselves for. The humans asked Wraithvine to help. This elder had only been a child when this all happened, they didn't deserve this kind of sorrow. -- Anon Guest
The Xenophobia Wars were not one war, as evidenced by the plural. They were not one event, nor between one set of disparate people. They were in different countries, in different years, some overlapping. And most between Elves and everyone else, at least before the Humans got started in trying to match that score.
Many had risen to power based on the work of those they held in chains, and that was largely recognised as a bad thing when those who were chained broke free.
The first thing the liberated did was seek revenge against their former captors. Often leading to more wars in the process. The former masters were always shocked at that, surprised at what they imagined to be audacity. Well. Most of them did.
Eltukas had filled hir days with sorrow and regret. Ze had not taken a mate of any kind, nor had ze looked like one. Hir days were soaked in wine, wreathed in dandelion smoke, and in the hours ze was conscious enough, spent in reckless behaviour. Always going into areas where the fiercest slaveholders remained. Always causing enough chaos to get a pack of slaves set loose upon the world. Always surviving, somehow, to return to hir place of residence.
There to weep until ze passed out.
Ze refused to call it 'home'. Or anywhere 'home'. They were places to eat, sleep, and recover from hir injuries until ze had enough smoke and drink to try another reckless stunt.
Those who still loved and cared for Eltukas thought ze was simply haunted. Though what haunted hir was a matter of some debate. That was why they called in an expert. Wraithbind the Wanderer.
The Eternal Wizard arrived with holes in hir shoes and threadbare clothes. Hir hat was full of patches and hir hair was currently caught up in the kind of style meant to keep it all out of the way. Rumour had it that ze cut hir hair just to make charms to protect children, and not just Elven children.
Rumour said a lot of things about well-known people.
They would ignore those rumours if it helped Eltukas become more stable.
Wraithbind communed with hir patron god, but said nothing about what the Hostess of All said about it. Ze sat with Eltukas as the mad Adventurer slept off hir last adventure. Calmly knitting hirself some new socks to pass the time.
Eltukas woke with a hangover, glaring blearily at the Elf sharing hir meagre space. "...'nuth'r healer," ze grumbled. "You can't fix what's wrong with me."
"I know. My goddess told me you're not haunted. Not by any ghost or spirits. I've begun to investigate other hauntings. Ones not supernatural in nature." Wraithvine produced a mug of something that smelled of citrus and salt. "This will help your head."
Eltukas sipped it and grimaced. "No booze?"
"Why do you need booze?" said Wraithbind.
"It kills the memories." Eltukas went rummaging through the bottles in the room. Finding each one empty or down to the dregs. Ze uttered a curse. "You can't know what it's like."
"So tell me," Wraithbind put down hir knitting. "I'm listening."
Eltukas spoke of a memory that haunted hir. Of watching hir grandren's slaves shuffling and suffering in chains. Just because their ears were round and they couldn't speak proper Elven. Grandren had said that they didn't feel pain, but Eltukas could feel it. Eltukas could feel any intelligent creature's emotions or agonies.
Ze had been a very unhappy child. Ze crept out of the family home with bread to hand out into the slave pens. Because ze felt their hunger. Ze stole keys to let them out and set them free because Eltukas could feel how horrible it all felt.
Grandren punished hir for it. And then the slaves came back with weapons and fire.
Ze would never forget how burning alive felt, even though ze escaped the flames unharmed. That memory was just the first.
Eltukas was six. Young and powerless. Hir kindness had resulted in death and pain for hir entire family.
"You were six," said Wraithbind. "What power did you expect to have over the adults around you? What way did you have to convince anyone to choose a kinder path?"
"None," sighed Eltukas.
"And what power did you have to end your family or their home?"
Eltukas stared into infinity, and finally whispered, "None."
[Photo by Dexter Fernandes on Unsplash]
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