Long ago, in the days of eld there lived a pair of elves; the First Ones, the Eldest, the progenitors of our kind. These two lived high within the reaches of the Talaedris Mountains, nestled in the bosom of the Moontouch Pinnacle, the highest peak of the mountain range. Upon every full moon, however, it looked as if the moon perched there for a time, balanced precariously upon the peak until it fell away again.

It was a pristine, idyllic life the pair of them led, for within the heart of the mountain range was a protected glade fed by a fresh spring that came from deep within the belly of the Pinnacle. The surrounding land was verdant and green, a lush grassland as big as an entire province in itself. There were fruit trees, nut trees, berry bushes, which attracted several animals, both of the earth and of the air; an abundance of nature’s gifts, all just for the two of them.

It was theirs to enjoy for eons beyond number, for they were the First Ones, born of the very magic of the world. It was in their blood; it was in their bones; it was in the very fiber of their being to where there was no separating them. They were Magic personified.

Theirs, however, was not a peace meant to last. Eventually, humankind, as it so often does, became as locusts ever searching to find new and inventive ways to expand upon their holdings, to own more than what is needful, to take what isn’t rightfully theirs to have. Human adventurers ventured into the mountains chasing after rumors that great riches awaited them there, and it was there that they found the First Ones’ Grove.

Confused by the primative, brutish humans, the elves at first tried to hide themselves away, keeping to the farthestmost reaches of their demesne. No matter where they went, though, the humans seemed to follow to where an encounter seemed inevitable. The elves revealed themselves to the humans; they who seemed so slender and tall and beautiful compared to the squattish, hulking forms of their human counterparts. The humans became confused, agitated by such seemingly deific beings. 

They attacked! The First Ones were not creatures of violence, had never so much as raised a hand to one another, so when the crude club came swinging it struck one of the pair full force, sending them to the ground. The entire band of humans leapt upon the downed First One, pummeling and stabbing until the First One perished. The remaining elf of the pair stared in aghast horror at the terrible wounds given to their Bonded and they turned on the humans with a shriek of pain and anguish. It lashed out at them with its magic, burning and scorching them, sending them running, screaming down from the mountains, never to return.

The damage dealt, the grieving First One returned to their Bonded. Its magic now burning within its veins, it called upon it to resurrect their fallen comrade, returning them to life as it had been before the humans came. It was then they came to know of the price of such magic, powerful as it was. The Caster of the magic aged some twenty or thirty years with each spell cast, advancing it well ahead of its Bonded. Once they used their magic, their immortality ended, and age crept up on them as it did all things. Time knew no master when magic did not interfere.

The Caster, from that day forward, used their magic to make life comfortable and pleasant for them both. They built a glorious castle of purest marble, glass, and golden filigree centered on a shining ivory tower that glowed with a blue-white light all its own. It came to be known as the Lost Spindle, for it was there that the last of the First Ones remained after the Caster gave their last spell, perishing as the last of their life-force left them. 

Bereft and alone, the Last of the First Ones supposedly still lives within the Spindle, but there are no brave enough to go there to ascertain the truth. If you go into the mountains, though, it’s said that you can hear the grieving keening wail of the Last of the First Ones echoing across the Pinnacle.

♦   ♦   ♦

Edouard yawned. He’d heard this tale a thousand times before at every festival, every holiday, every occasion in life worth noting — and some worth not noting. It was supposed to serve as a reminder of the folly of using one’s magic. 

La-dee-dah… Edouard waved a hand dismissively as he thought to himself. No magic for anyone, lest you lose your immortality and become a bitter old spinster in an ivory tower.

Not that there was any need for him to use magic. That’s what the Lesser Castes were for, after all. There was no need for anyone of the Aristomagi to sacrifice their immortality to use magic. It was a simple deed of sending a servant down to the Halls of the Burgeois to find a willing Caster. They then bring the Caster up to the Towers of the Aristomagi, deals get struck and spells get cast without the Aristomagi ever having to use their own magic and give up their immortality. Simple, tidy. Everyone benefits.

Those that have no wish to use their magic remain Pure Ones, children of the First Ones, immortal and inherently magical, the Aristomagi. There were those who wished to use their magic to benefit all society as artisans, healers, enchanters and the like, the Meritomagi; they could use their magic sparingly and at great expense. Of course, there were those who used magic prolifically and prodigiously, the Ochlomagi, willing to fritter away their immortality and their life-force to the highest bidders — only to use that money on vices like alcohol, drugs, or companionship. 

Edouard gave a shrug as he continued to slouch in the armchair he rested in, pondering over the colorful aspects of Immortalyn life. The elder that was telling the story of the First Ones finished and began leaving the stage, for which Edouard was eternally grateful. He could only hear that story so many times without his mind going completely numb. 

Praise the First Ones that’s over. I wonder if Edmond and the others are going to the Magesports Arena tonight. I could probably win a hefty sum with the right bets…

The young elven lord pushed himself out of the armchair with that comforting thought. Watching the fights in the Magesports Arena always sent a thrill through him because some fights got fairly fantastical, given that anything went, especially magic. The more renown a fighter was, the bigger and flashier their bouts were. Tonight’s were supposed to be especially promising, with an undefeated champion taking on all-comers.

Edouard rounded the corner, turning down a hallway when he ran into a bedraggled elf-maid, if she could even be called that beneath the dirt and grime that covered her. He did his best not to wrinkle his nose, but the smell of her was offensive. 

“Ah, pardon me, Miss…” Edouard said, side-stepping her. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No,” the elf-maid agreed. “You wouldn’t. I’m just on my way to find Lord Beaumont.”

Edouard sniffed — then regretted sniffing. Purest Ones, she smelled foul! “You’ll find my Lord-Father in his study.” He pointed down the hallway. “Third door on the right. You’ll be able to smell the cigars he enjoys in there long before you reach it.” He grinned.

The girl bobbed her head. “Thank you, mi’lord.”

Edouard watched the girl scurry off, his brow furrowing slightly. If his father were calling upon her to Cast magic for him, you’d think she could afford to dress — and smell — better! Shaking his head, Edouard turned to continue his search for Edmond and his other friends, but even as he did so, there was a pang of … what? Warning? Curiosity? Just what was a girl like that doing here in the Tower, anyway? The least they could have done was bathe her and give her a decent set of clothes… The questions of her presence gnawed at him.

He paused. He turned. Then he went back the way he came, following in the elf-maiden’s wake. She was already in his father’s library by the time he turned around. That didn’t stop him from marching right up to the door — and putting his ear against it.

♦   ♦   ♦

“I presume you know why I’ve called you here,” Lord Beaumont said, his voice even and measured in its low baritone. He sat mostly silhouetted, framed by the wingback chair he occupied in front of the large hearth in his study.

The smell of cigar smoke and ashen cinders lingered on the air, making it hard to breathe, much less reply, so for a moment, the elf-maid stood there in silence. Beneath her feet, the plush rugs depicted scenes of hunters impaling a stag with spears. Thick red fibers depicted the creature’s blood running beneath her feet. She had to resist the urge to move and stand somewhere else.

“I presume it is to cast some manner of magic for you, mi’lord.” She replied demurely, keeping her eyes downcast. 

“Of course, girl, but I require a very specific spell. I trust my manservant explained all to you?” The Lord’s voice didn’t change in its sonorous intonations, but there was still a feeling of annoyance in his words. 

“He did, mi’lord, which is why I’m here. There are few you’ll find within the city who can — or even will — cast a spell of such magnitude. I trust the compensation will be equitable to the task?” Her vivid blue eyes flashed up then, luminous sapphires within the semi-darkness of the study.

“You’ll have more gold, gems, and clothing than you could ever want for a lifetime, yes.” Lord Beaumont replied, waving a hand dismissively, much like his son had earlier. “Just how does this spell work, though?”

The elf-maid smiled. “That, mi’lord, would be telling and I shan’t be giving away a Caster’s secrets for naught. If you would learn the secrets of the spell, you must cast it.” Those preternatural moon-blue eyes focused on him intently, one brow lifting slightly. “And are you?”

Lord Beaumont scoffed, again waving that dismissive hand. “Pfft, no. Such things are beneath me. Fritter away your immortality and your power if you choose. I have no inclination to your deviant ways.”

“Very well then. You will see results within the next day and the spell should be complete within the fortnight.” She turned on the bloody-hued rug, trying not to think of the implications of it. “I trust your manservant will deliver me to the first half of my payment?”

The lord grunted from his shadowed chair by the fire. “I has all been arranged. He will see you there.”

She smiled and gave a small curtsey. “Then by your leave, mi’lord.”

Another dismissive wave, so she reached for the door in order to leave.

♦   ♦   ♦

Edouard backpedaled away from the door as he heard the conversation come to an end. Just what was his father planning? Why did it sound so ominous? Who was this girl?

The girl in question that he came face-to-face with as he spun away from the door, trying to look as if he was walking past his father’s library on his way somewhere else. He looked at her coolly. “Oh, are you still here?”

Those blue eyes, so bright they almost seemed to glow of their own accord, focused on him, wide-eyed and innocent. The smile that curved her lips, though, seemed almost predatory. “I have concluded my business with your Lord-Father. I have been instructed to find his manservant so that I might receive payment for my services.”

Edouard arched a brow at that. It wasn’t uncommon for the Aristomagi to hire the lesser castes for magic usage, nor was it untoward for the payment to be meted out through a servant. Something about all of it still felt off to him, despite it all. 

“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere…” Edouard peered up and down the hallway. Sure enough, the manservant was a discreet few feet away from the door, out of eavesdropping distance to whatever business they might have discussed, but near enough that Lord Beaumont could have summoned him with a loudly uttered word if need be. “Ah, see? There he is. If he stood anymore still, you’d think him a decorative statue, would you not?” He let out a humored guffaw.

The elf-maid merely smiled, though that unsettling gaze shifted away to the manservant. “I have concluded my business with your lord and am to collect my payment.” She told him.

Turning crisply, the manservant didn’t deign to give her a reply, instead marching himself into the lord’s library and shutting the door behind him.

Edouard gave a shrug. “Some people can’t do anything without being told.” He gave the elf-maid a toothy grin. 

“Hm.” She grunted noncommittally. Not much of a conversationalist then.

For whatever reason, Edouard waited with her for the manservant’s return, which happened in short order. As he approached the elf-maid, the manservant bowed. “If you will but follow me, Lady Elusirion, I will escort you to your new abode.”

Edouard blinked. This woman’s payment was an entire estate? He glanced toward the door of the library yet again, wondering what it was his father had purchased. While spells were a precious commodity and often cost the Aristomagi dearly, for something to cost that much spoke of a spell of great complexity or grave danger. Again, he was forced to stare at this woman, scrutinizing her as he wondered just who she was.

Lady Elusirion, hm? Seems like the kind of name that might stand out if inquired about. His course of action decided, Edouard gave a formal bow to the elf-maid and his best, most charming smile.

“It seems we are destined to part ways, mi’lady, so I will bid you farewell.”

Lady Elusirion regarded him a moment, that predatory look still in her eyes as she appraised him. “Indeed. I’m sure if you wish to find me again, your father’s man will direct you appropriately.” She said, gesturing to the servant, who simply nodded.

With that, the pair of them left and Edouard quickly went on his way. Only this time, it wasn’t to go find his friends. This time, he was going to unearth a mystery.