Turell walked the streets of the village, ignoring the small white flakes that drifted from the dark clouds above.  His vest didn’t offer much against the cold, but it was a special blue leather that his father had given him, so he wasn’t about to trade it for something warm.  He’d been traveling with a group of elves he’d met only a few days earlier.  Veilhix, the one Turell assumed to be the leader had made them travel sixteen hours strait to get to this place.  He and the others had agreed to meet up later at the village inn, but for now, Turell was focused on one place in particular.  His hand reached out for the knob of the door as he reached his destination, and Turell closed his eyes, knowing that this wasn’t the place he needed to be.

Turell’s eyes opened, but he was no longer at a door.  He stood over a beautiful Elvin woman with long hair like brown silk.  She was asleep, not at all seeming disturbed by his hand, reaching out to feel her soft cheek.  Turell could feel his face grow hot as he remembered the feel of her skin.  He was much younger back then though, only a boy of ten, wandering the woods.  The woman wore a mint green skirt that traveled the length of her left leg, right leg was bare, save for the shorts she wore and the boots that kept her feet protected as she traveled the forest.  On top, the woman wore a rather heavy white jacket with odd markings on the shoulders.  Turell recognized the markings as those of a healer, but she looked more like an apprentice than a full fledged healer.  He noted the holes in her right boot.  They were close together, most likely from a snake bite.  Though she was fully grown, and Turell was still only a child, he was easily able to hoist her onto his shoulders and carry her from the dangerous woods back to his village.  He closed his eyes, focusing on carrying her to safety, but when he opened them again, he was back in front of the door of the tavern.  His rough aged hand was now on the knob, opening the door.

Turell could feel the eyes of the people focused on him as he stepped in.  He could feel the snowflakes melting off of him as he stepped through the tables toward the counter.  Everyone was staring at him, and though he tried not to show it openly, their looks and glances pierced right through him.  Was he so strange a sight to see?  They stared at him as if he carried a head in his arms.  Turell gritted his teeth as he took a seat at the counter and ordered the largest ale he could afford.  He could hear the voices of the others behind him, making comments about his clothes, or his axe, or how odd or uncomfortable he made them feel.  The only person that seemed to be oblivious to him was a man at the end of the counter, entranced by a book he held in front of him.  Turell gulped down a good portion of his ale, hoping to get drunk as soon as he could manage.  The man with the book turned the page, rustling it a bit.  Turell closed his eyes and focused on the sound.

The leaves of the curtain rustled as Turell pushed it aside and stepped into the small hut.  The Elvin woman sat on a bed of furs, smiling at him as he entered.

“I understand that you’re the young man I owe my life to.”

“I only did what I thought was right,” he replied sheepishly.  “I knew our village cleric would be able to manage that wound, so I thought I should bring you here,” he said, stating an obvious fact.

The woman giggled a bit.  “I’m grateful you came along, otherwise I might not have made it to today.  If there is anything I could do to repay your kindness, please tell me.”

“Could I know your name?”

She blinked, a bit caught off guard by such a simple request.  After a moment, the woman smiled kindly, answering, “Rinarea.  But, would it be too bold of me to ask of my savior, what his name is?”

Now it was Turell’s turn to be stunned, but like her, he answered with a smile, “Turell.”

He took a seat next to her, finding her to be pleasant...for an adult.  Turell smiled a bit to himself as he talked to her, but after a while, the room faded and returned to the inside of the tavern.  He sighed and took another drink from his mug.

He knew she had to be alive somewhere, there was no other explanation.  Though both of their villages had been destroyed, he hadn’t caught sight of her body anywhere, so she must have escaped the attack.  But what if he were wrong?  What if she had been taken, tortured, and killed somewhere else?  Turell shuddered at the thought, quickly pushing it from his mind.  No, she was alive somewhere, and she was looking for him, just as he was looking for her.  Turell remembered how as a young boy coming of age, that Rin was the one he often dreamed about, but never had the courage to tell her how he felt.  When he found her...If he ever found her, he wouldn’t let his chance go to waste.  His mind began to wander again, thinking back to the day they had been separated.  He lifted his mug, hearing the rustle of another page from the end of the counter, staring into the wet bottom as he finished off his drink.  As Turell set the mug down, he sat amongst the trees of the forest, having finished off the cider he’d brought with him.  He and Rin had arranged to meet  in the woods, but she’d never arrived.  Turell had gone back to his village before it was dark, but what he’d returned to, was chaos.

The village was in flames, and not even the rain that had started to fall was enough to extinguish them.  Panicked, Turell rushed through the burning huts and corpses of his friends.  He found his own dwelling, burned to the ground, and his father, Murk lying on the ground in front of it.  Turell’s heart felt as if it were going to burst at everything happening.  He raced to his father’s side, kneeling beside him and lifting his head into his arms.  Murk’s eyes were glazed over, but he was still alive, despite the spike pinning him down though his stomach.  Though his vision was blurred, he could still make out his son’s form, and he smiled, “Turell, you’re safe.”

Turell’s own vision had become blurred as he tried to contain his sadness from pouring out.  He gritted his teeth as he asked, “What happened here?  Who’s done this to you?”

Murk coughed a bit, some blood coming out as well.  “Demons attacked the village, going for the strongest of us first.  I don’t think anyone is left,” he said as his attention went elsewhere for a moment.

Turell closed his eyes.  This couldn’t be happening, it had to be a dream.  Nothing like this was supposed to happen.  Not to his village, not to his friends and family.  His thoughts were swept away when he felt his father’s hand touch his own.  “Son, do not dwell on this.  You’re strong, and you have your life ahead of you to do what is right for this world,” he paused, reaching to his side and holding up his axe to Turell.  

“Take it.  It’s time for me to pass the torch onto the next generation of our family.  And I know that you are destined for many great things to come.”

Turell blinked, staring at the blade for a moment.  He laid his father back down and took the handle of the blade in his hands.  Murk smiled, closing his eyes one final time and let his hand slip from the blade.  Turell quickly forgot the axe in his hand and returned his attention to his father.  “Dad!  Dad!  Don’t go yet!  Please!”

Turell held his father in his arms as finally his tears began to flow.  He could hear the sound of the fires all around him, accompanied by the falling rain.  Turell wiped his eyes, letting his father rest and stood, clutching the axe tightly in his hand.  The Bloodline, the axe Turell had always known he would someday carry.  The origin of the weapon was long forgotten, but one thing still remained about it.  The axe could only be held by those of Turell’s blood, and nobody else.  Turell went to work, gathering stones from the village, making sure that everyone received a proper burial.  By morning, he had finished his father’s mound, saying a prayer for him and the others to safely cross over into the new realm.  Once he had finished, he stood and looked over the ruins of his former homeland before turning his back and leaving it behind him.  The only thing left for him now was Rin, where ever she was.

Turell had woken from his memory, finding himself halfway across the tavern to the door already.  He smiled a bit to himself.  He wouldn’t come back to this place, not for a long time at least.  The door rattled behind him as he left, leaving a strange silence in the tavern for a moment.  The man at the end of the bar turned another page and smiled at what he found there.  He looked up as if someone were sitting near him and said aloud, “And so a new chapter begins.”