𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Seven: Strange Markings

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"Elena," a woman's voice cooed somewhere above me, "I'm sorry."

I searched the sky above my head for the voice, and my eyes landed on the iridescent moon, a gleaming white orb, like a hole poked through the black of night. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my body, a mixture of paralyzing cold, and blistering heat, coursing through my veins. I lifted my hand to eye level, finding that my skin was glowing a vibrant white.

And as suddenly as the pain had arrived, so did the fire. The night sky was gone, replaced by blackness, everywhere I looked. In place of the moon was a slit in the darkness. An eye, rimmed with roaring orange flames that sliced through the black with malicious anger. Someone called my name. I searched for its source, but came up empty-handed. The eye drew closer. Grew larger. The pain grew worse. I cried out for help when suddenly, three sharp raps at the door jolted me awake.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed. And then, it dawned on me. It dawned on me as it had dawned on me each time I'd woken up in the dead of night. Cold sweat, dampening my clothes. My hands trembling. A cool chill passing down my spine.

Today was the day we left.

I stood, inhaling, before I spoke, "Come in."

The door was gently pushed ajar, to reveal a breathtaking elven woman, who I instantly recognized as Arwen Undómiel. Evenstar. Her long taupe hair cascaded down her back, over which was draped a fine blue cloak of silk. Her robes were a pure white, her bare arms, pale as the moon. Around her waist hung a grey leather girdle. Her shocking blue eyes regarded me with excitement as she stepped into my room, closing the door behind her.

"Elena Móretur, of Aerith," she said, coming to a standstill in front of me.

"Yes?" I asked.

She pulled aside her cape, to reveal her belt's sheath, inside of which was a blade. She removed it, and then pulled out another, suspended from the other side of her belt. Holding them out to me, she smiled, and I couldn't help but marvel at them. Dawn's early light crept through the window, caressing the beautiful weapons, their blades glinting. The hilts, wrapped in smooth black leather were ornamented with crystals of blue, white, and grey, that glimmered in the light. I looked at her, amazed at the expert craftsmanship.

"They are yours," she insisted, holding them closer and urging me to take them.

I reached out a steady hand, picking one up. Then the other. I looked at her, waiting for an explanation.

"My father asked that I give them to you. They once belonged to a very powerful sorceress, and close friend of his. They are called Glawar and Dúath. They were forged by the elves of Gondolin in the First Age."

"They're beautiful," I said, running my thumb over the jewels.

Arwen looked me in the eye with a furrowed brow, trying to guess my thoughts.

"Come," she extended her arm after a while, "Let us ready you."

I placed my blades on the polished surface of a desk, before accepting her arm. She led me to the closet where I stepped out of my nightdress, slipping into a white cotton tunic and black pants. As I changed, my eyes focused on a strange symbol in the skin of my forearm. A white rune blending into the ivory of my body, appearing as though it were some old rune. I frowned, quickly covering it up. I wondered if it had anything to do with the dream. It must've. But that only confused me more. I shook my head. I had bigger things to worry about than some mark on my skin. I'd worry about it later. Arwen helped me to tie a tanned, leather corset-top over my tunic, and I pulled my hair back into a slipshod ponytail so that it wouldn't disrupt my view.