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Description
Title: Fact of the Past
Author: Heroes-Die
Game: Baldur's Gate II
Characters/pairing: Irenicus, Ellesime
Disclaimer: Baldur's Gate and its characters are copyrighted by Bioware and E

     Cold were the thoughts and cold were the memories that moved through his mind as the room caressed the man in shadows. While flickering light from a candle held back the deepest gloom, this man's wrath burned far brighter than the trembling flame, and the world was alight to him as his gaze pierced the darkness like a knife through wool.
     On these bitter nights, when the trappings of memories that once fuelled his need for vengeance lay cold and barren in his heart, everything was as ash in the fires that scored his desire. Fingers danced through sullen blue flames of his creation, and the varnish on his chair boiled in the heat, his face utterly impassive. Maps of this world and of lands where mortal feet have never tread were laid with precision over the wide table beside him, a bookshelf containing the rest of his more important documents loomed heavy on the left, while stubs of melted candles sucked at the dry air with withered wicks. The few things that had once been cherished were nothing now but sterile pieces of an aging past tossed in an appropriate niche.
     Irenicus let out a frustrated sigh and clenched the blue fire into his fist, listening as the wood continued to sizzle. I see visions that should madden me but there is only hollowness where before I felt life.
     I would have laughed months ago—thrown back my head and shown utter disregard for these macabre moments that descend on me with growing rapidity, but again, there was nothing. The passion that brought about my exile, the black rage that had driven me thus far in a world bereft of promise, had all but disappeared in favour of this…this...apathy? No, that did not describe it. It was a complete absence of ability besides the hints of real emotion. Futility where once would have been frustration. Disappointment where once would have been hopelessness. Annoyance for wrath. But for love, there was none.
     Ellesime. Her name was a conduit that opened the memory. The memory held the emotions that let my heart glimpse what it was missing. There was recognition, acknowledgement of that memory, but try as I might to rekindle the real feeling by conjuring murky memories of her, there was nothing. She who had held my heart—she who had exiled me out of fear. It was being the slave of death, the underling of gods who cared nothing for the fate I dreamed for myself, that drove me to do what I had. I was not going to fade quietly, my life nothing but a passing thought: I would be remembered.
Perhaps I would try once more tonight, relive the fading dream and see if my heart would turn again to vengeance…

     It was in a waning summer, when the richness of colour and warmth were at its full, that wariness of the talented sorcerer Joneleth had finally grown to its full, seeing how lofty his sights were set upon things that were not meant for mere elven hands. By then, it was far too late to turn aside those eyes when once they had already glimpsed the prize he held most dear. They knew Joneleth's passions. He desired to be and to have the best in anything, whether that was expanding his innate talents in magic, or romancing the most powerful woman in Suldanessellar: Queen Ellesime.
     So it was with a thread of fear that riddled whispers under leaves of the forest and cast troubled gazes between knowing minds that Joneleth passed in their hearts. But what they did not know was this: that Joneleth knew their fears. He knew and cared nothing for it.

     Joneleth was lifted from his study by light quick steps on the wooden floor and quickly shut the book he was working with away from sight. "Is that the footsteps of the woman I love come to steal a kiss?" He stood from the chair and turned slowly, letting a grin tempt his face as Ellesime came into sight. A true goddess among the elven, her beauty was only matched by her grace…or perhaps her wisdom? Memory fails me even in this. I had her down to poetry once. She was golden haired with fair skin, and her oval eyes were shimmers of grey and blue. Her dress was like the shimmer of grass in the wind as she moved, her hair the ripples of a river. Truly a queen in every step, every motion of her hand, every glance. She stopped just inside the doorway, her hands at her sides.
     She gave him a little smile, but the worry in her eyes spoke louder. "I came to talk, Joneleth. I've heard some things we must discuss."
     He frowned and discretely slid the book farther back on the table as he pushed himself towards her. "It can't be that bad, Elle…"
     "I know. It seemed ridiculous at first, but Tulrian has heard whispers, and I have heard many of the same. I can't keep ignoring them especially when some might think I do so because of our relationship."
     The book was a weight tethering his heart behind him. This was only the beginning of my work, and even then I couldn't let it sit for more than a day without the need to return. He focused on Ellesime and let a different sort of weight take hold in his chest—a weight he didn't mind. "Do rumours really concern the attention of the Queen of the Seldarine?"
     "Please take this seriously, Joneleth. When rumours do manage to reach me it is usually because they are of a magnitude that do require my attention, and the things that I've heard…They worry me to say the least."
     Joneleth closed the final paces between them and wrapped his arms around her, gently turning her so that she faced towards the hall, his head snugged into the crook just above her shoulder. She stiffened at the forced movement but sighed and placed her hands over his. Her fingers were cold. Joneleth chuckled and spoke into her ear. "Are they whispering I'm stealing their queen from them?"
     "No," she said, clenching his hand in hers. "They whisper you want to steal from the gods." Ellesime separated herself from his arms with a slight reluctance. "This is not a joke anymore, Joneleth. One mention from a passing elf I can understand, but when Laonyn goes by you in the hall I can feel the chill, the fear, that comes off him. There are rumours that tell you seek the seat of the Pantheon, to take the gods' place. I know you're searching for more in your magic, whether it's knowledge or ability, but you cannot search beyond your means. Look at me now, and promise me you are not, and will never, try such a thing."
     He smiled to ease her fears. Ellesime guessed too far into the things of his desires, and she knew he had the potential and the ability to do exactly what she suggested; while he cared nothing for the babbling of the other elves, Ellesime was obviously different. "I would, and will, never try," he said. To try is to fail. I will have success. The book whispered to him as he whispered to her.
     Her cunning eyes searched his face, and he endured it, hiding the truth behind the changeable veil of his eyes. Finally, Ellesime sighed. "I know the passions of your heart too well to not believe you've at least thought of it." She flicked her eyes to his study, noting the collection of books and scrolls, the stubs of burned candles that attested to long nights. "Whatever you're searching for, leave it before curiosity turns to obsession. I don't want you hurt by this."
     Joneleth directed his will to ignoring the things in the room that beat upon his mind like the force of the tide. Ideas tumbled through his mind, powers itched at his fingertips, words haunted the edges of his lips, but it was easy to keep his smile in her presence. He turned into the hall, gesturing for her to follow. "Words are only air. You are the only thing in this realm that could possibly hold my interest long enough for it to become an obsession, selanna." A slight colour rose to her cheeks at the affectionate term, but she wore it well. "I'll leave the books and the rumours behind me and we can enjoy an afternoon together. Simply you and me."
     She smiled back at him in relief, and it seemed a dark, stormy sky broke under a wave of sunlight. "Why not a little longer? The stars grow lonely if no one stands under their light."
     Joneleth took her hand and lightly traced the gentle point of her ear with his thumb. "Then we'll see the stars."

     My hand went to make the same motion at my ear and halted before it could reach flesh. There would be nothing there to meet my hand. I was no longer elven. They had taken even that from me. The rest of that memory was lost in a blanket of cloying things overly scented—as if in the haste to put any feeling to it the motion had instead become artificial in its abundance. A night we had spent together under stars on cool grass, speaking of things woven from dreams and hopes of a life in love was stagnant and bitter.
     My heart roiled inside me. The ignorance from their whispers, at my exile….I had courted power with a clear goal, not blindly gobbling up power as a glutton in a banquet, a child grabbing at a sword because it shone. I comprehended well, too well, all the things I worked for. They had not understood how I intended to gain my freedom, and for their stupidity, I was judged. I would have been a god, my queen beside me a goddess in her rightful place above the pandering and squalling of broken elves and lesser things.
     But my mind fogged, and it seemed the memory would take me once more. The candles around me fuzzed into a dim glow, and the shadows drew me into places and emotions far darker than the room I sat in.

     "Joneleth. Joneleth!"
     He ignored the male voice and continued in his thoughts, debating how he could work his newest spell into a finalized component of the matrix he had constructed. It would be difficult yes but the payoff would—
     "Joneleth, you cannot ignore me. I must speak with you."
     He sighed from where he sat on a branch nearly overhanging the lake. "I seem to be doing a fine job of it so far. Perhaps I should continue."
     "I think not."
     Joneleth peered down from the branch between the fan of green leaves to see an elf he knew of some familiar degree standing below. His face was set and drawn, eyebrows stern. Laonyn. And Joneleth knew exactly why he was here. He wanted nothing to do with the short-sighted, ignorant fool. Unfortunately, he was a fool that had drawn many important ears. Joneleth shrugged. "I think this is a fairly appropriate place for discussion: me up here and you—well, you being down there."
     The meaning of this wasn't lost on Laonyn. His face darkened dangerously, which was hard to accomplish on fair elven faces. "Don't be trite with me. However you've managed to enhance your abilities with magic, I can no longer turn blind eyes to how you're reaching it….and what you're reaching for."
     Joneleth grinned and easily jumped down from the branch to land in front of the other elf. "Really, now? Seen the light, have we?"
     "I've seen darkness—true darkness. And while the others may not yet perceive it, I do not have their short-sightedness. I have seen your path and where it leads, and I tell you now it will end here on this very plain or so help me upon my very life there will be dire consequences."
     I scorned his words then. I knew Laonyn had a particular gift for foresight, for feeling out future events that were hard to divine even for the more skilled members of their craft, and yet he was nothing in my wake. At this point, even if he fully understood the entirety of the heresy I committed, I could brush him aside as easily as mist in the wind. "Dramatic. There are times I appreciate such but this is not one." His power shifted so easily from thought to form, from word to deed that it would be a simple matter of ending this—and he'd not yet been able to try out his newest talents.
     Laonyn took the measure of Joneleth, his easy stance and amused eyes, swallowed hard, but did not move. "Don't do this. There is still time to turn aside. No one knows the extent of what you've done, not even the Queen. Rumours can still remain rumours in her ears."
     Joneleth's magic was no longer simple spells—it was power of the sorts the gods wielded. There was no need to answer Laonyn as he had come here with one intent and knew exactly what the response must be in turn. Even with Laonyn's ability of sight, he had underestimated how far the sorcerer had fallen into the forbidden, and though the elves' skills with a blade were evenly matched, Joneleth's powers were the deciding factor. He kept his powers as subdued as he could so as not to attract attention, and even at that level, Laonyn had no hope of overcoming the sorcerer and knew it. His sword came again and again, and each time Joneleth swept it aside to burn and to cut with his own attacks until it was clear Laonyn could not continue.
     He had attacked me with his sword…hadn't he? No, there was nothing in his hands. That can't be right. He had to have attacked me with something otherwise it would not have lasted as long as it did.
     Laonyn lay gasping on the grass which had been flattened and scorched by their conflict, his blood feeding the dirt under him. There was pain etched in his features as his body failed him, but his lips fluttered with near-silent speech as blood bubbled in the corners of his mouth. Joneleth leaned close as the surge from his newly-tested powers dimmed to a glow.
     His words were a faint breath on the wind. "I…lied." Then his eyes glazed and closed.
     I tried to think of what he meant and guessed many things, but the only thing I could do was to continue my work. It drove me to think without pause, to act and to act and to act until finally I could brush my fingers against what I so longed for. The gods would not drag me down: I would push them aside. Myself and Ellesime would stand, each in our place, she as a goddess and me as a god. I would no longer crouch in the shadows of beings who thought their power was greater but be the very center of the pantheon.
     There was a kindling of rage then that sent embers of hate coursing through my blood, and I was somewhat surprised at the force of it but not by the source. It was only shortly after Laonyn attacked that my exile occurred, the event that stripped me of all I had, every emotion, every chance at power—every bit of love I held for my queen. The room dimmed around me and my backed ached from the stiff wooden chair, but it was an ache that I welcomed, a soreness of the body that a deeper part of me could no longer match. It came to this: the last memory, the final act. I would not shrink from it.

     Joneleth had been summoned to the Tree of the Seldarine, the Tree of life. It was a holy place of the elves where sat, in immaterial presence, the rulers of the elven Pantheon, their gods and protectors. Only the Queen could summon and hold council where the Tree dwelt, and so he approached with long strides and anticipation thrumming his heartbeat. With his intense study of the scrolls he had collected in hopes of aiding his magic, he was closer than ever to his goal, and now he journeyed to the source of the god's power. Unseating them was no longer an idea he mused in the darkness of his thoughts, and what he had created with Ellesime was a relationship they would have for ages of their life, ages they could now share in freedom from the god's will. Never had he felt so alive, so fresh, in the presence of a person than with her. Everything he gained he would share with Ellesime, everything he struggled for was to see her standing beside at their rightful places in the pantheon, the gods below impotent in their ability to contest with him.
     He strode alone through halls of white marble and slanting beams of sunlight, the ceiling soaring above him, broad marble columns reaching up and up to support the roof in beautifully carved designs. It was still and silent, his footsteps the only breath of noise in the hall. As he walked further the smell of rich, growing plants and the musk of dirt came softly on wafts of air. The huge oak doors were already open at the end of the hall, and he stepped through without hesitation from the marble floor onto soft grass, the tree centered in the middle of the area tall and wide as its branches arched above and spread to cover the entire glade under its soft shadow. Ellesime stood underneath in a gown of beautiful dark blue silk with a silver circlet on her forehead that held her hair in gentle circlets against her neck.
     "You're here," she whispered. She looked as if the words pained her.
     Joneleth did not understand what she meant by this, but a note of caution stilled his racing heart. "Of course I am. Wherever you would call from, I would follow."
     "Even from the seat of the Pantheon?"
     The genuine smile on Joneleth's face faltered for a moment as finally the crux of why he had been called here came to light, and his expression settled instead on gentle confusion. "I thought we had left this behind us…"
     "I thought so as well. For the sake of what you risked, for what you know my responsibilities are to my people, to you, I thought this was a vain pursuit, something to occupy your abilities with magic. I know now this is not the case. How could you?"
Her voice rang in his ears, accusing, hurt. It was utterly still as he stood there under the leaves, at a loss as the woman he loved carved a chasm between them. Joneleth allowed the quiet to grow, giving the chance for Ellesime to speak, to let her reveal how much she knew, before he started defending himself. Surely she was only guessing at his deeds. It was not yet time—
     Her voice fell to a whisper as her eyes spoke anguish and cold indignation. "Laonyn told me. Joneleth. He told me what he had seen…and now it has been two weeks since his last appearance in the city."
     Laonyn told her? The realization came to me then: that place under the tree amidst the grass in the field—that was what Laonyn had lied about. He had indeed spread his foresight to the Queen and who knows how many others had whispered about him together in the corners of their homes. What he'd done with his study of magic, what he planned.                         And now Ellesime knew.
     Joneleth dropped whatever act or falseness lay in his expression and spoke in pure honesty, knowing at last he could reveal himself in fullness to the one woman he had ever loved. "Ellesime, you are the only one in this world who could grasp what I aim for. You know me better than this. I'm not here to sew chaos, to rip apart our people but to build them, to give them rulers that do more than sit from above in golden seats and ignore the plights of the people they claim to love. I will help them."
     She stared at him and asked, "Did you kill Laonyn?"
     There was no point in lying. "Yes."
     She closed her eyes and took a long, quiet breath. "Without even a semblance of remorse you speak. So everything he said is true? You're going to help elven kind by destroying the gods and putting yourself in their place?"
     He sighed in desperation. "You make it sound like an arrogant grab for power. It is asserting our right as a people to decide our own fate."
     "You at the top of it all with your new-found power."
     "Yes. Someone must start at the top. Someone with the ability to grant freedom and the wisdom to know where that freedom would be rightly placed."
     Ellesime shook her head in disbelief. "In all the long years counted among the elven, I have never thought I would have to address this, and especially not with someone with whom I've shared my heart. I would scarcely believe any of this except you just confessed to it. How did you ever expect me to react to this? Even if you swore to me never to touch magic again I could not believe you."
     He glanced at the Tree, the collection of the god's power, and wondered why he had been brought here if she already knew his goal. He set that question aside to focus Ellesime—to make her understand. "It's not a matter of magic or no magic, it's about our freedom, not being under the every whim of distant beings, to live as fools and be ground into the dust at death. I will not set this aside and I am not to be opposed." Joneleth was surprised at his steely tone and immediately tried to reign himself in.
     Ellesime looked as if the hurt was receding, a sterner aspect closing her off. "You would strike me down if I stood in your way, just as with Laonyn?"
     "No," he whispered. "You will be beside me in the Pantheon. A goddess to rule your people.
     She shook her head, and there was loss in her eyes the likes of which cut the heart from him. "I think I have been blinded by things of the heart and neglected so much more in its place. I must do this. It's gone too far already. I'm sorry, Joneleth."
     Joneleth was losing her. "Please, selanna—"
     She held up her hand as if to push him back.  "Don't. Don't make this harder." As if confirming with someone out of his sight, she nodded, and stepped away from him. He could tell she was trying to act as Queen again, apart from him, impartial.
     Joneleth was a criminal, needing justice.
     A criminal? Had she grown so distant already? If it was that easy to shove me aside, then were her feelings ever genuine? No, there was pain there—pain so great it drove me to my knees as I heard the footsteps of judgement behind me.
     The next moments were lost in a rush of forgotten emotion so strong it swept my breath away and left me trembling in the dimness of the flickering candles. I could still feel the points of pressure from their fingers digging into my flesh as they grabbed me, the heat boiling my blood as I realized Ellesime's betrayal, the surging power as the Tree and those that meant to detain me bent all their will against me in order to subdue the heretic. A heretic once called friend.
     A friend once whispered lover.
     My muscled strained, aching in their intensity, and my hands wrapped around the solid wood armrests while my heart pounded furiously. They took me. They took everything from me. The Tree bound me to the spot only after each had to bend the entirety of their abilities in containing the power I unleashed there. I took lives before I fell. But the gods were present with the others, and I could not face them all without risk—I could not loose my true power at the risk of slaying Ellesime.
     I was forced to kneel before them, pushed to the ground by the combined strength of their magic, forced to abject myself—
     Joneleth's knees dug into the grass, his muscles shuddering and chest burning as the magic constricted his body. The Tree….the power of the Tree is gone! Things started slipping, and Joneleth's breath collapsed from his lungs, his eyes wide. Never had he felt this….this….
     Emptiness. Utter estrangement. Everything, his connection to this realm, his sense of self, even his ability to feel…fading. Gone. Worse than gone. It never was.
     He whipped his head to Ellesime who had lost her queenly visage, her hand covering her mouth as tears glittered on her cheeks. She knew exactly what they would do to him, exactly how it would feel. And still Ellesime had led him into their grasp. So they could strip his soul and leave his body as an empty shell for any who wanted an example. They were leaving him with nothing. It was exile.
     I looked unwaveringly into her eyes as the world fell around me, agony dragging me down into darkness, and whispered to her, "You betrayed me."
     You betrayed me...

     The echo of the memory whispered into darkness and settled into solitude. There was a shiver at its passing, and it left in but a moment. I had expected…more. It seemed the act of reliving this had simply reinforced the certain hollowness in my chest rather than brought any emotion back—but something deeper had taken its place, a root of feeling that dug deeper and was more precise than anger. It was calculation rather than passion, and it knew a surer thing than revenge. I twirled flame in between my fingers as the candles had dwindled into dim embers and watched my skin turn grey under the blue fire.
     I was stripped of everything that made me elven, down to the pointed ears that humans are so quick to distinguish us by, cast from the sight of the gods, the elven people, and Elvandar itself, to dwell among the mortals upon this earth. But I will not meekly fade away into the shadows as a disgraced child cast from its parents' sight. I aim to carve a different path here, wear a different face for these humans. The face of Joneleth serves no purpose now, and so my mask disguises true elven lineage under scarred, veined flesh—a mask without pity or remorse. It's an unsightly thing just as the face of Joneleth was pure. I chose a new name. Irenicus, meaning the Shattered One. I may have been exiled, but I will never be forgotten. I will make sure of it.
     I lifted my head, bore down the darkness until it parted before me, and spoke into that place between past and present where silence and events lingered in stillness.
     I... I do not remember your love, Ellesime. I have tried. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory, but it is gone... a hollow, dead thing.
     I moved forward and spoke into the present, threading through reality until a familiar glow took hold, one that held twisted pleasure, bitterness, smiles with nothing but teeth. She was close, sitting by the window in her room, brushing out her hair as the cool night wind caressed her silk nightgown. She seemed delicate, a petal held in the palm of my hand.
     For years, I'll cling to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. The Seldarine took that from me, too. I look upon you and feel nothing. I remember nothing but you turning your back on me, along with all the others.
     I felt the brush of her awareness against mine, and her skin prickled against contact she couldn't identify, contact with a familiar darkness. Ellesime stilled her hand and searched the quiet, hearing nothing but the wind and her heart. And then the fingers I had once felt on my body alighted lightly on her neck, and her body went rigid under my touch. I leaned closer. She swallowed hard, and I felt the motion as her lips moved open to speak, but they stopped before making a sound.
     My lips gently touched her jaw. It was a cold, cruel, lifeless kiss that sucked the heat from her skin, but the lingering warmth from it on my mouth was a dying memory and it earned a dying smile.
      Wait for me, selanna. I'll come back for you.

Description
Title: Fact of the Past
Author: Heroes-Die
Game: Baldur's Gate II
Characters/pairing: Irenicus, Ellesime
Disclaimer: Baldur's Gate and its characters are copyrighted by Bioware and E

     Cold were the thoughts and cold were the memories that moved through his mind as the room caressed the man in shadows. While flickering light from a candle held back the deepest gloom, this man's wrath burned far brighter than the trembling flame, and the world was alight to him as his gaze pierced the darkness like a knife through wool.
     On these bitter nights, when the trappings of memories that once fuelled his need for vengeance lay cold and barren in his heart, everything was as ash in the fires that scored his desire. Fingers danced through sullen blue flames of his creation, and the varnish on his chair boiled in the heat, his face utterly impassive. Maps of this world and of lands where mortal feet have never tread were laid with precision over the wide table beside him, a bookshelf containing the rest of his more important documents loomed heavy on the left, while stubs of melted candles sucked at the dry air with withered wicks. The few things that had once been cherished were nothing now but sterile pieces of an aging past tossed in an appropriate niche.
     Irenicus let out a frustrated sigh and clenched the blue fire into his fist, listening as the wood continued to sizzle. I see visions that should madden me but there is only hollowness where before I felt life.
     I would have laughed months ago—thrown back my head and shown utter disregard for these macabre moments that descend on me with growing rapidity, but again, there was nothing. The passion that brought about my exile, the black rage that had driven me thus far in a world bereft of promise, had all but disappeared in favour of this…this...apathy? No, that did not describe it. It was a complete absence of ability besides the hints of real emotion. Futility where once would have been frustration. Disappointment where once would have been hopelessness. Annoyance for wrath. But for love, there was none.
     Ellesime. Her name was a conduit that opened the memory. The memory held the emotions that let my heart glimpse what it was missing. There was recognition, acknowledgement of that memory, but try as I might to rekindle the real feeling by conjuring murky memories of her, there was nothing. She who had held my heart—she who had exiled me out of fear. It was being the slave of death, the underling of gods who cared nothing for the fate I dreamed for myself, that drove me to do what I had. I was not going to fade quietly, my life nothing but a passing thought: I would be remembered.
Perhaps I would try once more tonight, relive the fading dream and see if my heart would turn again to vengeance…

     It was in a waning summer, when the richness of colour and warmth were at its full, that wariness of the talented sorcerer Joneleth had finally grown to its full, seeing how lofty his sights were set upon things that were not meant for mere elven hands. By then, it was far too late to turn aside those eyes when once they had already glimpsed the prize he held most dear. They knew Joneleth's passions. He desired to be and to have the best in anything, whether that was expanding his innate talents in magic, or romancing the most powerful woman in Suldanessellar: Queen Ellesime.
     So it was with a thread of fear that riddled whispers under leaves of the forest and cast troubled gazes between knowing minds that Joneleth passed in their hearts. But what they did not know was this: that Joneleth knew their fears. He knew and cared nothing for it.

     Joneleth was lifted from his study by light quick steps on the wooden floor and quickly shut the book he was working with away from sight. "Is that the footsteps of the woman I love come to steal a kiss?" He stood from the chair and turned slowly, letting a grin tempt his face as Ellesime came into sight. A true goddess among the elven, her beauty was only matched by her grace…or perhaps her wisdom? Memory fails me even in this. I had her down to poetry once. She was golden haired with fair skin, and her oval eyes were shimmers of grey and blue. Her dress was like the shimmer of grass in the wind as she moved, her hair the ripples of a river. Truly a queen in every step, every motion of her hand, every glance. She stopped just inside the doorway, her hands at her sides.
     She gave him a little smile, but the worry in her eyes spoke louder. "I came to talk, Joneleth. I've heard some things we must discuss."
     He frowned and discretely slid the book farther back on the table as he pushed himself towards her. "It can't be that bad, Elle…"
     "I know. It seemed ridiculous at first, but Tulrian has heard whispers, and I have heard many of the same. I can't keep ignoring them especially when some might think I do so because of our relationship."
     The book was a weight tethering his heart behind him. This was only the beginning of my work, and even then I couldn't let it sit for more than a day without the need to return. He focused on Ellesime and let a different sort of weight take hold in his chest—a weight he didn't mind. "Do rumours really concern the attention of the Queen of the Seldarine?"
     "Please take this seriously, Joneleth. When rumours do manage to reach me it is usually because they are of a magnitude that do require my attention, and the things that I've heard…They worry me to say the least."
     Joneleth closed the final paces between them and wrapped his arms around her, gently turning her so that she faced towards the hall, his head snugged into the crook just above her shoulder. She stiffened at the forced movement but sighed and placed her hands over his. Her fingers were cold. Joneleth chuckled and spoke into her ear. "Are they whispering I'm stealing their queen from them?"
     "No," she said, clenching his hand in hers. "They whisper you want to steal from the gods." Ellesime separated herself from his arms with a slight reluctance. "This is not a joke anymore, Joneleth. One mention from a passing elf I can understand, but when Laonyn goes by you in the hall I can feel the chill, the fear, that comes off him. There are rumours that tell you seek the seat of the Pantheon, to take the gods' place. I know you're searching for more in your magic, whether it's knowledge or ability, but you cannot search beyond your means. Look at me now, and promise me you are not, and will never, try such a thing."
     He smiled to ease her fears. Ellesime guessed too far into the things of his desires, and she knew he had the potential and the ability to do exactly what she suggested; while he cared nothing for the babbling of the other elves, Ellesime was obviously different. "I would, and will, never try," he said. To try is to fail. I will have success. The book whispered to him as he whispered to her.
     Her cunning eyes searched his face, and he endured it, hiding the truth behind the changeable veil of his eyes. Finally, Ellesime sighed. "I know the passions of your heart too well to not believe you've at least thought of it." She flicked her eyes to his study, noting the collection of books and scrolls, the stubs of burned candles that attested to long nights. "Whatever you're searching for, leave it before curiosity turns to obsession. I don't want you hurt by this."
     Joneleth directed his will to ignoring the things in the room that beat upon his mind like the force of the tide. Ideas tumbled through his mind, powers itched at his fingertips, words haunted the edges of his lips, but it was easy to keep his smile in her presence. He turned into the hall, gesturing for her to follow. "Words are only air. You are the only thing in this realm that could possibly hold my interest long enough for it to become an obsession, selanna." A slight colour rose to her cheeks at the affectionate term, but she wore it well. "I'll leave the books and the rumours behind me and we can enjoy an afternoon together. Simply you and me."
     She smiled back at him in relief, and it seemed a dark, stormy sky broke under a wave of sunlight. "Why not a little longer? The stars grow lonely if no one stands under their light."
     Joneleth took her hand and lightly traced the gentle point of her ear with his thumb. "Then we'll see the stars."

     My hand went to make the same motion at my ear and halted before it could reach flesh. There would be nothing there to meet my hand. I was no longer elven. They had taken even that from me. The rest of that memory was lost in a blanket of cloying things overly scented—as if in the haste to put any feeling to it the motion had instead become artificial in its abundance. A night we had spent together under stars on cool grass, speaking of things woven from dreams and hopes of a life in love was stagnant and bitter.
     My heart roiled inside me. The ignorance from their whispers, at my exile….I had courted power with a clear goal, not blindly gobbling up power as a glutton in a banquet, a child grabbing at a sword because it shone. I comprehended well, too well, all the things I worked for. They had not understood how I intended to gain my freedom, and for their stupidity, I was judged. I would have been a god, my queen beside me a goddess in her rightful place above the pandering and squalling of broken elves and lesser things.
     But my mind fogged, and it seemed the memory would take me once more. The candles around me fuzzed into a dim glow, and the shadows drew me into places and emotions far darker than the room I sat in.

     "Joneleth. Joneleth!"
     He ignored the male voice and continued in his thoughts, debating how he could work his newest spell into a finalized component of the matrix he had constructed. It would be difficult yes but the payoff would—
     "Joneleth, you cannot ignore me. I must speak with you."
     He sighed from where he sat on a branch nearly overhanging the lake. "I seem to be doing a fine job of it so far. Perhaps I should continue."
     "I think not."
     Joneleth peered down from the branch between the fan of green leaves to see an elf he knew of some familiar degree standing below. His face was set and drawn, eyebrows stern. Laonyn. And Joneleth knew exactly why he was here. He wanted nothing to do with the short-sighted, ignorant fool. Unfortunately, he was a fool that had drawn many important ears. Joneleth shrugged. "I think this is a fairly appropriate place for discussion: me up here and you—well, you being down there."
     The meaning of this wasn't lost on Laonyn. His face darkened dangerously, which was hard to accomplish on fair elven faces. "Don't be trite with me. However you've managed to enhance your abilities with magic, I can no longer turn blind eyes to how you're reaching it….and what you're reaching for."
     Joneleth grinned and easily jumped down from the branch to land in front of the other elf. "Really, now? Seen the light, have we?"
     "I've seen darkness—true darkness. And while the others may not yet perceive it, I do not have their short-sightedness. I have seen your path and where it leads, and I tell you now it will end here on this very plain or so help me upon my very life there will be dire consequences."
     I scorned his words then. I knew Laonyn had a particular gift for foresight, for feeling out future events that were hard to divine even for the more skilled members of their craft, and yet he was nothing in my wake. At this point, even if he fully understood the entirety of the heresy I committed, I could brush him aside as easily as mist in the wind. "Dramatic. There are times I appreciate such but this is not one." His power shifted so easily from thought to form, from word to deed that it would be a simple matter of ending this—and he'd not yet been able to try out his newest talents.
     Laonyn took the measure of Joneleth, his easy stance and amused eyes, swallowed hard, but did not move. "Don't do this. There is still time to turn aside. No one knows the extent of what you've done, not even the Queen. Rumours can still remain rumours in her ears."
     Joneleth's magic was no longer simple spells—it was power of the sorts the gods wielded. There was no need to answer Laonyn as he had come here with one intent and knew exactly what the response must be in turn. Even with Laonyn's ability of sight, he had underestimated how far the sorcerer had fallen into the forbidden, and though the elves' skills with a blade were evenly matched, Joneleth's powers were the deciding factor. He kept his powers as subdued as he could so as not to attract attention, and even at that level, Laonyn had no hope of overcoming the sorcerer and knew it. His sword came again and again, and each time Joneleth swept it aside to burn and to cut with his own attacks until it was clear Laonyn could not continue.
     He had attacked me with his sword…hadn't he? No, there was nothing in his hands. That can't be right. He had to have attacked me with something otherwise it would not have lasted as long as it did.
     Laonyn lay gasping on the grass which had been flattened and scorched by their conflict, his blood feeding the dirt under him. There was pain etched in his features as his body failed him, but his lips fluttered with near-silent speech as blood bubbled in the corners of his mouth. Joneleth leaned close as the surge from his newly-tested powers dimmed to a glow.
     His words were a faint breath on the wind. "I…lied." Then his eyes glazed and closed.
     I tried to think of what he meant and guessed many things, but the only thing I could do was to continue my work. It drove me to think without pause, to act and to act and to act until finally I could brush my fingers against what I so longed for. The gods would not drag me down: I would push them aside. Myself and Ellesime would stand, each in our place, she as a goddess and me as a god. I would no longer crouch in the shadows of beings who thought their power was greater but be the very center of the pantheon.
     There was a kindling of rage then that sent embers of hate coursing through my blood, and I was somewhat surprised at the force of it but not by the source. It was only shortly after Laonyn attacked that my exile occurred, the event that stripped me of all I had, every emotion, every chance at power—every bit of love I held for my queen. The room dimmed around me and my backed ached from the stiff wooden chair, but it was an ache that I welcomed, a soreness of the body that a deeper part of me could no longer match. It came to this: the last memory, the final act. I would not shrink from it.

     Joneleth had been summoned to the Tree of the Seldarine, the Tree of life. It was a holy place of the elves where sat, in immaterial presence, the rulers of the elven Pantheon, their gods and protectors. Only the Queen could summon and hold council where the Tree dwelt, and so he approached with long strides and anticipation thrumming his heartbeat. With his intense study of the scrolls he had collected in hopes of aiding his magic, he was closer than ever to his goal, and now he journeyed to the source of the god's power. Unseating them was no longer an idea he mused in the darkness of his thoughts, and what he had created with Ellesime was a relationship they would have for ages of their life, ages they could now share in freedom from the god's will. Never had he felt so alive, so fresh, in the presence of a person than with her. Everything he gained he would share with Ellesime, everything he struggled for was to see her standing beside at their rightful places in the pantheon, the gods below impotent in their ability to contest with him.
     He strode alone through halls of white marble and slanting beams of sunlight, the ceiling soaring above him, broad marble columns reaching up and up to support the roof in beautifully carved designs. It was still and silent, his footsteps the only breath of noise in the hall. As he walked further the smell of rich, growing plants and the musk of dirt came softly on wafts of air. The huge oak doors were already open at the end of the hall, and he stepped through without hesitation from the marble floor onto soft grass, the tree centered in the middle of the area tall and wide as its branches arched above and spread to cover the entire glade under its soft shadow. Ellesime stood underneath in a gown of beautiful dark blue silk with a silver circlet on her forehead that held her hair in gentle circlets against her neck.
     "You're here," she whispered. She looked as if the words pained her.
     Joneleth did not understand what she meant by this, but a note of caution stilled his racing heart. "Of course I am. Wherever you would call from, I would follow."
     "Even from the seat of the Pantheon?"
     The genuine smile on Joneleth's face faltered for a moment as finally the crux of why he had been called here came to light, and his expression settled instead on gentle confusion. "I thought we had left this behind us…"
     "I thought so as well. For the sake of what you risked, for what you know my responsibilities are to my people, to you, I thought this was a vain pursuit, something to occupy your abilities with magic. I know now this is not the case. How could you?"
Her voice rang in his ears, accusing, hurt. It was utterly still as he stood there under the leaves, at a loss as the woman he loved carved a chasm between them. Joneleth allowed the quiet to grow, giving the chance for Ellesime to speak, to let her reveal how much she knew, before he started defending himself. Surely she was only guessing at his deeds. It was not yet time—
     Her voice fell to a whisper as her eyes spoke anguish and cold indignation. "Laonyn told me. Joneleth. He told me what he had seen…and now it has been two weeks since his last appearance in the city."
     Laonyn told her? The realization came to me then: that place under the tree amidst the grass in the field—that was what Laonyn had lied about. He had indeed spread his foresight to the Queen and who knows how many others had whispered about him together in the corners of their homes. What he'd done with his study of magic, what he planned.                         And now Ellesime knew.
     Joneleth dropped whatever act or falseness lay in his expression and spoke in pure honesty, knowing at last he could reveal himself in fullness to the one woman he had ever loved. "Ellesime, you are the only one in this world who could grasp what I aim for. You know me better than this. I'm not here to sew chaos, to rip apart our people but to build them, to give them rulers that do more than sit from above in golden seats and ignore the plights of the people they claim to love. I will help them."
     She stared at him and asked, "Did you kill Laonyn?"
     There was no point in lying. "Yes."
     She closed her eyes and took a long, quiet breath. "Without even a semblance of remorse you speak. So everything he said is true? You're going to help elven kind by destroying the gods and putting yourself in their place?"
     He sighed in desperation. "You make it sound like an arrogant grab for power. It is asserting our right as a people to decide our own fate."
     "You at the top of it all with your new-found power."
     "Yes. Someone must start at the top. Someone with the ability to grant freedom and the wisdom to know where that freedom would be rightly placed."
     Ellesime shook her head in disbelief. "In all the long years counted among the elven, I have never thought I would have to address this, and especially not with someone with whom I've shared my heart. I would scarcely believe any of this except you just confessed to it. How did you ever expect me to react to this? Even if you swore to me never to touch magic again I could not believe you."
     He glanced at the Tree, the collection of the god's power, and wondered why he had been brought here if she already knew his goal. He set that question aside to focus Ellesime—to make her understand. "It's not a matter of magic or no magic, it's about our freedom, not being under the every whim of distant beings, to live as fools and be ground into the dust at death. I will not set this aside and I am not to be opposed." Joneleth was surprised at his steely tone and immediately tried to reign himself in.
     Ellesime looked as if the hurt was receding, a sterner aspect closing her off. "You would strike me down if I stood in your way, just as with Laonyn?"
     "No," he whispered. "You will be beside me in the Pantheon. A goddess to rule your people.
     She shook her head, and there was loss in her eyes the likes of which cut the heart from him. "I think I have been blinded by things of the heart and neglected so much more in its place. I must do this. It's gone too far already. I'm sorry, Joneleth."
     Joneleth was losing her. "Please, selanna—"
     She held up her hand as if to push him back.  "Don't. Don't make this harder." As if confirming with someone out of his sight, she nodded, and stepped away from him. He could tell she was trying to act as Queen again, apart from him, impartial.
     Joneleth was a criminal, needing justice.
     A criminal? Had she grown so distant already? If it was that easy to shove me aside, then were her feelings ever genuine? No, there was pain there—pain so great it drove me to my knees as I heard the footsteps of judgement behind me.
     The next moments were lost in a rush of forgotten emotion so strong it swept my breath away and left me trembling in the dimness of the flickering candles. I could still feel the points of pressure from their fingers digging into my flesh as they grabbed me, the heat boiling my blood as I realized Ellesime's betrayal, the surging power as the Tree and those that meant to detain me bent all their will against me in order to subdue the heretic. A heretic once called friend.
     A friend once whispered lover.
     My muscled strained, aching in their intensity, and my hands wrapped around the solid wood armrests while my heart pounded furiously. They took me. They took everything from me. The Tree bound me to the spot only after each had to bend the entirety of their abilities in containing the power I unleashed there. I took lives before I fell. But the gods were present with the others, and I could not face them all without risk—I could not loose my true power at the risk of slaying Ellesime.
     I was forced to kneel before them, pushed to the ground by the combined strength of their magic, forced to abject myself—
     Joneleth's knees dug into the grass, his muscles shuddering and chest burning as the magic constricted his body. The Tree….the power of the Tree is gone! Things started slipping, and Joneleth's breath collapsed from his lungs, his eyes wide. Never had he felt this….this….
     Emptiness. Utter estrangement. Everything, his connection to this realm, his sense of self, even his ability to feel…fading. Gone. Worse than gone. It never was.
     He whipped his head to Ellesime who had lost her queenly visage, her hand covering her mouth as tears glittered on her cheeks. She knew exactly what they would do to him, exactly how it would feel. And still Ellesime had led him into their grasp. So they could strip his soul and leave his body as an empty shell for any who wanted an example. They were leaving him with nothing. It was exile.
     I looked unwaveringly into her eyes as the world fell around me, agony dragging me down into darkness, and whispered to her, "You betrayed me."
     You betrayed me...

     The echo of the memory whispered into darkness and settled into solitude. There was a shiver at its passing, and it left in but a moment. I had expected…more. It seemed the act of reliving this had simply reinforced the certain hollowness in my chest rather than brought any emotion back—but something deeper had taken its place, a root of feeling that dug deeper and was more precise than anger. It was calculation rather than passion, and it knew a surer thing than revenge. I twirled flame in between my fingers as the candles had dwindled into dim embers and watched my skin turn grey under the blue fire.
     I was stripped of everything that made me elven, down to the pointed ears that humans are so quick to distinguish us by, cast from the sight of the gods, the elven people, and Elvandar itself, to dwell among the mortals upon this earth. But I will not meekly fade away into the shadows as a disgraced child cast from its parents' sight. I aim to carve a different path here, wear a different face for these humans. The face of Joneleth serves no purpose now, and so my mask disguises true elven lineage under scarred, veined flesh—a mask without pity or remorse. It's an unsightly thing just as the face of Joneleth was pure. I chose a new name. Irenicus, meaning the Shattered One. I may have been exiled, but I will never be forgotten. I will make sure of it.
     I lifted my head, bore down the darkness until it parted before me, and spoke into that place between past and present where silence and events lingered in stillness.
     I... I do not remember your love, Ellesime. I have tried. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory, but it is gone... a hollow, dead thing.
     I moved forward and spoke into the present, threading through reality until a familiar glow took hold, one that held twisted pleasure, bitterness, smiles with nothing but teeth. She was close, sitting by the window in her room, brushing out her hair as the cool night wind caressed her silk nightgown. She seemed delicate, a petal held in the palm of my hand.
     For years, I'll cling to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. The Seldarine took that from me, too. I look upon you and feel nothing. I remember nothing but you turning your back on me, along with all the others.
     I felt the brush of her awareness against mine, and her skin prickled against contact she couldn't identify, contact with a familiar darkness. Ellesime stilled her hand and searched the quiet, hearing nothing but the wind and her heart. And then the fingers I had once felt on my body alighted lightly on her neck, and her body went rigid under my touch. I leaned closer. She swallowed hard, and I felt the motion as her lips moved open to speak, but they stopped before making a sound.
     My lips gently touched her jaw. It was a cold, cruel, lifeless kiss that sucked the heat from her skin, but the lingering warmth from it on my mouth was a dying memory and it earned a dying smile.
      Wait for me, selanna. I'll come back for you.