Haizea Zuríne Wolfe

Eldest of the Seven Sisters and Heir to the Clan of Wolfe

White Wind of the Wolfe

special notes: since quotation marks don't come out nicely, I went ahead and deleted them and simply made all dialogue bold. I am sorry if this makes it difficult to read.

Scene 1

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Twing!

The zizzle in the air vibrated delicate ears and a quick thud announced that her arrow found a place to stop. Silently, the lithe creature weaved through the trees, swift as the wind. As the figure came to a stop, long agile fingers reached out to caress the steady shaft protruding from a solid oak tree. Long moon-kissed white hair was tightly weaved into an elaborate braid, reaching down her elongated torso.

Sharp eyes caught a slight crack in the trunk of the tree and a small frown swept across her lips. In one quick movement, she pulled the slender shaft and held the arrow before her to inspect the tip. Running her slick tongue along one edge of the metal tip, she drew her brows in a clear sign of disapproval.

Returning to her previous location, she mounted a proud, midnight onyx steed and made off through the thick woods. It was not long before she came upon a grand city of polished moon stone. She pulled her deep forest green hood down to cover her eyes from the local beings gracefully moving about their business and making way in the mural streets for the passenger upon one of their fine steeds.

The horse carried her through the twisting streets and came to an easy stop before a single open archway. After she slid down, the woman turn to murmur quietly to the beautiful beast. Reaching under her cloak, she produced a healthy, vibrant red apple, which she offered to the willing horse. The steed walked off to its own destination, leaving the cloaked woman to walk through the jeweled archway alone.

The path was cool beneath the pads of her feet. The texture smooth. The architecture allowing the beating heart of nature to pulse through the ground and resonated through the city. It gave the woman a sense of familiarity and strength to feel the source of life flowing beneath her.

Her gliding walk lead her into a single building. The mantle upon the simple archway with engraved wood grains, eagle wings, and a set of eyes over head, indicated the Master Aerial. Once within, she lowered her hood and scanned the vast work studio for sign of the Master. Her twice colored eyes alighted upon his shoulders, a bit broad to be elvish, and yet, his tall stature and fairly slimmed frame was more of their fair kind.

He was the only elf to cut his hair and now she saw that his shoulder-length locks were bound by a strip of worked leather.

Master Aerial Zeru, she voice called out softly, dancing upon the slight breeze.

The elf turned and bowed upon seeing the fairest of the fair. Milady Wolfe, of what humble and honored services may I grace for thee? His voice was low and like a echo against the threes.

Lady Wolfe produced the arrow for him to inspect. It left a crack, she informed him in a low, enchanting voice. Although skilled your promising apprentice may be, your long acquired skill is still best by far. She graced him with a gentle smile. My younger sisters, of the honorable house of Wolfe, seek to build their own quivers. I am quite certain the sharp-eyed twins would be more than gracious to test the talented Ortzi's arrows.

A deep crackling creek laugh whisked about Master Aerial Zeru of which the woman shared her smile with.

Indeed, Milady Wolfe of the most Noble and Honored. Tis a true honor to accept the young Mistresses' keen eye-ed assistance. Many blessings for the offer. Zeru gave her a small bow of the head before turning to place the arrow down on his work bench. Pausing to turn back, he said, I do have a fine new set to show, if thoust had the moments at present to take a look?

Lady Wolfe granted his request with the slight nod of her head.

From his wood worked counter, a section came away in his hands. Whistling a set of tones, the section began to bend and move as if it had been granted the water of life. Under her watchful eyes, the Master's own private chest came into being. Without hesitation, Zeru reached within and reverently brought out a quiver of arrows.

The first thing Lady Wolfe noticed was the graceful white feathers lining the ends of the shafts. Fifty-two in all. Then her eyes focused and the hum of magic around them was evident. Zeru carefully handed over the quiver. It was then that she noticed the odd material and series of runes she had never before seen.

All made from the glade of the living tree, Milady. My last act as Master Aerial of the Clan of Wolfe and the most magnificent city of Zurine. All my knowledge of skill that wise Ortzi now has can only be defined by time and experience. I have nothing left to give but this last set.

Bright eyes flashed open in understanding. This is your blessed link. At his nod, she continued. Why then, a quiver of arrows for one such as me and not something to pass to your apprentice?

His handsome smile could steal any breath from a female, yet the sadness made any the more compassionate. I have my Master's piece to pass on to the bright lad, as per tradition. This is a family piece, and thus should go to family.

Zeru-

It's alright, Haizea, Zeru spoke. You have always been a daughter of my heart. I have known no children with the loss of my love. My passion of life became my work until you came here to demand your first quiver. I taught you the bow and the way of the trees. I even taught you to whisper the wind, a talent of my blood and a gift I would have passed on only to a daughter.

Haizea held back the tears that wished to fall, reaching out to place a hand upon one broad shoulder. You have always been a father to me, Zeru. You taught me the gifts of my people and humbled my young nature. No other has been more family without being blood of blood.

Zeru moved to her side, pulling Haizea into his embrace, hugging her for the first time. Although the gift was between them, Haizea felt the full impact of the embrace. One does not hold or keep a prolonged touch upon one of the Royal Family. None embraced the Heir to the Clan of Wolfe. No one may claim the right except for immediate blood of blood.

Haizea leaned into the strong form of the Master Aerial, breathing in his sent of fresh dew and honeyed breeze.

When Zeru pulled away, Haizea had already swiped away the tear that had found it's way upon her cheek. Only when she looked into his eyes did she see that it was his tears and not hers. What do you seek? she inquired, holding fast against the building emotions within her.

To be one with the trees and forever sing upon the wind, Daughter mine, was his reply.

Haizea could hold the tears any longer. Farther Heart, I would be most humbled and honored to bare witness to your rebirth.

His smile lit his face in a way she had long since seen. True joy radiated from his features and a loving warmth flowed out over her.

I would have no other, he obliged.

Holding her precious new quiver to her chest, Haizea accepted his proffered arm and walked away from the smells of split wood and tangy sap, and toward the heart of her people's most sacred wood.

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continues...... (still using bold as speech)....(also, not edited... so mistakes may follow)


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The cold chilled her to the bone, wracked her slender body with coughs and sapped the strength from her muscles. Memories of times so seemingly distant in the past, clung to her as blankets, providing her with the only warmth sustaining her.

Another round of coughs thundered from her chest. It was not supposed to end as this. It was not supposed to end.

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The fresh scent of constant Spring filled the glade they just walked into. A humming resonated and filled the clearing with enchantment. At the center, a thick tree of no distinction stood proud and immortal. The leaves were of all white, though nothing else within the glen was out of place.

Zeru placed a kiss upon her forehead and embraced her for the last time.

Sing to the wind, Daughter Mine, and the wind sings back. Do not forget to sing for me. He let her go and made his way to the Tree, taking a seat before it and resting his back against it's trunk.

Haizea watched with mournful eyes as the humming grew louder and snow crystal leaves began to fall. Zeru's true blue eyes gazed proudly into her sapphire and emerald eyes. And Haizea stood witness as Zeru became one with the Sacred Tree, his laughter of joy filling the glade and dancing off with the wind.

With a heavy heart, Haizea made her way back to her city. The looming work before her giving her no solace from the eve's events.

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Haizea sat upon the high balcony of the palace, looking out over the sacred wood. Four days had passed since Zeru's choice, and two more still until her sister returned. The low setting sun illuminated the sky with a spectrum of colors pleasing to any eye, and yet to her mixed sight, it was just as beyond breath taking as the first time she had laid eyes upon it.

Birds of the trees had already begun to silent their songs, finding their places to rest for the night. The people of Zurine had begun their own nightly rituals, and the world of the night was awakening.

Her private chambers behind her let out a warm breeze, keeping the chill of dusk from touching her skin. She took a moment to scout the area around her with a small amount of magic, ensuring that she was in fact alone.

Satisfied that she was, Haizea started a low humming deep in her throat. As she let it build, the tone ascended. Slowly, she coaxed a song into life, singing softly on the wind and letting it carry off to some destination of it's choosing.

The song was beautiful and enchanting. Her voice naturally fluctuating with the changes in pitch and light as bubbles. It was an old song, one of power, one of sadness, one of prophecy. As was the way with all things related to Dragons.

Her ballad spoke of a man loving a woman, a woman born of dragons and forever of dragons. She was one of their most prized possessions. Able to take wing, but also able to take the form of the land dwelling creatures. She was prideful, wore honor as a crown, and was beyond the fairest beauty the world had ever seen. Those Dragons of Water, Fire, and Air, all convented her.

Yet the man was the only one to ever sway her. The song darkens as tragedy strikes the couple. The Ancient Council of the Three Dragon Races descended upon their glade and as punishment, turned their prized possession into a tree, grand and beautiful. For mankind, the Dragons razed the lands they once dwell upon, forcing the humans to flee to the outskirts of the most magically fertile lands, to places Dragons had no wish to be.

And worse yet for man kind, their numbers were drastically reduced to a mere few hundred at best. No longer holding any power of the land. Those of royalty, no longer had kingdoms, and those of collars and chains, had no masters. Man had to begin anew, once again.

As the Dragon Maiden bore witness to this judgment, tears fell and from her magically rich glade, were born the Elves. Children, by birth right, of Dragons and magic. As the Dragon Maiden, now Sacred Tree, watched her Elven children flourish, a child of her and her beloved was born. A Dragon belonging solely to the land and trees.

The Ancient Council of the Three Dragon Races refused to acknowledge the young Dragon as one of their own. He was accepted by the Elvish and taught the ways of the lands, and the way of power and magic. The young Dragon learned to change his form, taking a humanoid form and finding some of those Elvish to his liking.

But it was the proud, peaceful, and fierce Elven Clan of the Wolfe whom really claimed his eye. Taking their only daughter as his wife, The Clan of Wolfe became the only Elvish Clan to bare the Blood of a Dragon Born.

The song had an ending here, telling of the Honorable Clan of Wolfe, or could actually continue, telling of darker tragedy. Haizea choose neither and simply let the song fade from her lips.

She stayed there in silence for a moment longer. The sun now nearly fully set and bright eyes being to increase in number withing the surrounding woods of Zurine. The wolves remained silent, though, not interfering with the ways of those Elves with in the White City, but keeping watch as they have done for many a year.

Gathering herself up, the Heir of the Clan of Wolfe made her way through her personal chambers and into the main central rooms of the palace. It was unseemly and rude to be late to a meal, no matter if you were of the Royal Blood or not.

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There hadn't been a sun for days, but if there had, it hadn't touched her skin or she would have felt its warmth. As it was, the slow creep of numbness was up to her knees by now, or was it ice? It didn't matter. These short moments of real time only sharpened the pain and acknowledged the freezing chill.

Coughing raged within her, always. Always taking away her strength. Memories good and bad, happy and horrible, forced their way through, now. She knew she was being forced to relive what had been.

If only it hadn't been so.

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Milady Wolfe, The Lady Nahia has arrived. Haizea waved the woman off and sighed inwardly. Her sister's year of wayward travel was over. Personally, Haizea wished it had been longer, but Nahia's offense hadn't warranted such a longer period of time.

The way to the Greeting Hall was not so long in distance as one would like. Haizea walked through the various open archways to the location with a neutral expression, but a scowl within. She sister's flare for dramatics was widely known to be the one thing to get on Haizea's nerves within moments.

Calming herself, Haizea swore in her heart and mind that this time would not be the same. This time, she would not lash out at her younger sister.

The archway to the Greeting Hall was beautifully designed to allow her the ability to see into it without being seen. Unfortunately, her sister knew this and had positioned herself just so, so that Haizea's gaze wouldn't see her first.

No, the person her eyes did lay on was not her sister in the least, but a rather stunning male with long flowing dark hair braided in the traditions of the Beothiah Clan.

As her eyes alighted upon him, a flutter caught in her chest and she stopped. She could hear the faint giggling of her kin, but when the elf turned, her entire world focused on him. His eyes were mixed. One of a dark ruby, the other of deep amethyst, and she was hypnotized.

When he turned his back to her again, Haizea managed to shake herself of the suffocating sensation and mentally drew herself together. Eying the stranger's back, her decided to place magical barriers within and around her for cautionary purposes.

Gliding into the Hall, Haizea took her seat upon the dais. Milady Wolfe, Heir of the Clan of Wolfe,was announced by a young male elf standing a few feet to her left.

She remained quite, looking her sister and her companion over. She noted the new red stripe within her sister's loose waterfall of sun spun hair. She didn't fail to realize the connection with the male's crimson attire.

Sister, Haizea began. You have returned.

Nahia gave one of her most charming smiles, and Haizea knew the young male who announced her arrival was nearly smitten.

I do, Sister, Nahia replied. My year of travel drew to an end this every early morn'. I see that all is while within the Blessed White City.

All is well as it ever is.

Any news, then, Sister?

Haizea gave the male a glance before answering, There is a new Master Honorary Aerial. Besides that, they may be other news to note, but most interesting is the arrival of you and your companion.

Nahia's smile drew thin and forced.

Then may I introduce you to my companion, Lord Sheogorath, Ruler of New Sheoth and Head of the Clan of Beothiah . He is my trusted companion. Nahia stressed the word trusted and Haizea once again perceived the connection between them.

Once upon a time, Nahia had been Acting BasaJaun of the Clan of Wolfe's many flourishing cities, but mainly Zuzen, The Just and the Fair. But her infidelity was causing problems and so Haizea had stepped in to correct her.

Lord Sheogorath, Ruler of New Sheoth and Head of the Clan of Beothiah , I bid you greetings,Haizea tilted her head slightly in greeting. May I not be rude as to inquire as to your presence?

Nahia fumed at her, but Haizea brushed her off and kept her focus on the handsome elf.

He gave her a slow, tantalizing smile, one Haizea swore she could feel send shivers along her spine. I came at the request of Lady Nahia, his voice was deep and rumbled as if within the earth. There was a twinge of something in his voice, which Haizea could not define, but was sure it wasn't the blatant power coaxing his words. I am here to accompany her, nothing more, Lady Wolfe.

His charm was fine and his form delightful, Haizea noted. He was respectful as well.

Thank you, Lord Sheogorath, for granting my sister such comforts. Haizea truly could care less about the glares of hostility coming from her sister, but the satisfaction in this Lord Sheogorath's eyes was another matter altogether.

It is my pleasure, I assure you, Lady Wolfe, to be able to escort one as honorable as Lady Nahia along her journey.

Haizea felt as if a diplomatic game was afoot. Delight bloomed within her and her senses sharpened.

And how are the affairs of New Sheoth? All is well, I would hope.

Sheogorath gave her a rather inclined head bow and closed his eyes in a highly esteemed show of respect. All is well in New Sheoth. I humbly thank you for your inquiry about our welfare. It was most gracious indeed.

If it weren't for her training, Haizea was sure she would be a smiling puddle of dew water upon her seat. As it was, she noted that her sister had no qualms about being said puddle and was simply melting at Lord Sheogorath's every word.

Tis' good to hear of a fellow city's good news.

Lord Sheogorath's brows pulled slightly in and he looked at her with slight concern. Not to intrude upon the matters of Zurine, matters not of mine, though, I would like to offer any assistance if needed should something have happened to your Master Aerial.

Haizea tensed. She realized that she had mentioned Zeru's replacement, briefly. Your concern is gracious, Lord Sheogorath. It is indeed true that the Master Aerial is now replaced with his life-long apprentice as Master Honorary Aerial. There was no grievance at the Master Aerial's passing, but a joyous feast in his honor. He is still beloved by all.

Master Aerial Zeru has passed? Nahia's informal and rather rude interruption cause Haizea's gaze to bore down on her, although Nahia seemed to return it, if not at equal force.

He had a long and fulfilling life, Sister. It was time to pass on the Master's Mark to his Apprentice. The Master Honorary Aerial is quite gifted and currently fletching for our youngest sisters.

Nahia gave her a wide-eye look of shock and Haizea remembered why she was always so at odds with her sister. The elf never even tried to grow up learning the proper customs befitting one of the Royal Clan. Haizea scoffed in her mind at her Sister's demeanor.

I am glad to hear that all is well within the Great White Walls of the Blessed White City of Zurine. It eases my heart to hear of such news.

Haizea offered Lord Sheogorath a polite nod in thanks before saying, It must have been a long day for you. Come, let us part and gather upon the later eve for a fitting meal and fine drink.

Lord Sheogorath produced a full bow when she stood up, taking her by surprise. I would be most honored to join you for a meal, Lady Wolfe.

Nahia simply stood and nodded to her sister before escorting Lord Sheogorath from the Hall. Haizea, for her part, waited until they were gone before returning to her study.

Never turn your back on an enemy without good cause, and although she hadn't formulated an opinion of this Lord Sheogorath, Haizea definitely did not trust her sister as far as a morning sparrow could soar.

Which, Haizea pondered joyously, was quite far.

He hated the sickening scent of the ocean. Not to mention that the salt practically burned his ears and dried out his smooth skin. He was just glad that he kept his hair woven tight enough that it didn't frizz out.

But beyond all that, he hated water. Well, salt water really.

Amroth adjusted his coat cuffs for the umpteenth time. The silky material wasn't out of place, nor did it provide any relief from the burning sun, but he was beyond paranoid about the salt air touching his skin. Already he had to struggle with dry lips.

The ship barely rocked as it soared through the water. The tawny lumber was waxed down with a substance created by his own family. He didn't actually know what it was made of, but what ever it was, it sure kept the loaded down ship afloat.

The shoreline had been in sight for awhile now. Amroth stilled his hand, keeping his fingers from twitching, an unseemly tick not fit for one of his stature. Those blasted beach birds were already flying overhead and all the ship hands knew to stay away from the agitated elf prince until at least after a day on land again.

The air around him was crackling with his hatred of this particular mode of transportation. Four days at sea and finally, that night, he'll be walking on dry land. Then that night, he will be off, riding the moonlit valleys of the thriving, thick forest, the beating of hooves beneath him and the rushing melody of the midnight winds dancing through his hair.

He vividly recall the thrill of a twilight ride. The taught muscles of his steed rippling between his legs as the magnificent beast galloped and raced through the trees with elven grace. The wet scent of earth and the silent whoosh of the breeze. No sounds of annoying daylight birds, but the distant howls of royal beasts. Various patches of moonlight on most nights, but those nights of complete darkness were the best by far.

On those nights, he could test the sight of his steeds. The reins loose, he would let the beast choose the path. With the elven steed in charge, Amroth could move more freely in tune with him. He would lower his body and merge his mind's sight with his mount. The keen sense of an elven horse is nothing compared to any other breed. They are smart creatures with sharp eye sight and an enhanced sense of smell.

Milord, a sailor called to him, bringing him from his thoughts. Amroth loosened his grip on the railing, only just then realizing that he held on so tightly.

The Elven Ruler of Tirith, Head of the Clan or Akakios, turned to the sailor, one brow raised in inquiry. He looked over the other elf and vaguely noticed the harden skin and dry, crackly hair. He was more interested in the man's deep blue eyes, Eye of the Sea, as his people called them.

We are preparing to dock at Ekain, Milord. Estimate is within the hour, the sailor's baritone rumbled.

Amroth walked past the elf and made his way toward his own accommodations. He was already packed, but checking through his belongings again wouldn't hurt.

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Lord Sheogorath tossed the missive into the low burning fire within a delicately etched hearth. The intricate design would enchant any eye, but for Lord Sheogorath's. His mood, before slightly darkened, was now lightened knowing his brother would be arriving within a fortnight.

He knew Amroth's hatred of the sea and the chance his elven half brother would race his royal steed without waiting, most likely arriving quite soon, without his caravans or knights.

Sheogorath's eyes strayed to the glowing radiance of Lady Nahia as she dozed slightly in the moonlight. The waning moon seemed to kiss her velvet skin. The sheer material of her night gown couldn't hide the darkened bruise on her left shoulder blade.

He smirked.

Letting her sleep, Sheogorath settled himself at the elegantly carved desk and prepared his own missives, pausing only once to replace his fading candle.

A shadow crept into his holdings and stood silent, waiting and watching.

Make sure the first gets there in two days. The third needs a reply and the forth needs compensation. The others are just drops. Sheogorath stood, leaving his pile of letters on the desk and walked to the elven princess who had decided to commit to him. The shadow slipped the messages off the desk and merged into the dark shadows of night, racing off to do his Lord's bidding.

Running a finger down the side of Nahia's cheek, Sheogorath's customary smirk twisted with something darker and more wild.

Had Nahia awoken and had seen the raging fire in his eyes and the crooked sneer upon his ever pleasant lips, she would have left him then and there. As it was, Sheogorath left her side to fetch himself a glass of the reputable wine of the Clan of Wolfe. Perhaps a few glasses would help him relax enough to rest a bit before the sun would rise.

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Amroth sent the stable hand off and lead his steed from his stall. Sendoa was every once of the noble elven breed. His soft, slick coat, as dark as a moonless night, was able to meld into the dark trees. He was light on his hoofed feet and silent as a sleeping wolf. He was one of the Lady Haizea's own steeds, sent to greet him.

After having saddled Sendoa and secured his packs, a young boy approached him, chin held high and a knowing look in his pale amber eyes. He handed Amroth a sack saying, the Mistress is rather particular which apples Sendoa gets.

Amroth accepted the sack and peered into its depths. Bright red and golden apples practically sparkled at him. Goddess Apples from the Sorne Orchard.

Looking up, the elf prince realized that the boy had left. Grinning, Amroth was rather intrigued to meet this Lady Haizea. He had heard rumors and received royal notices, but in the past few decades she had ruled thus far, Amroth had never met her himself.

It wasn't that odd, whenever he thought of it. Not many of the Noble Family Clans ever go to the City of White. It is known that many devoted to the faith of the Earth Goddess would travel there, trekking without steed or protection, taking the journey of their faith.

Amroth thought those devoted believers to be annoying. Wasn't it enough that their people already mixed their magic with the earth? Wasn't it enough that they tended to it and nourished it? Wasn't it enough to be bound to it?

Sendoa shifted and bumped the sack with his nose. Amroth smiled and reached in, pulling out a ripe gold one for the stallion. Sendoa sniffed once and then gracefully took the apple and started slowly walking toward the forest.

Amroth shook his head and reached the beast in a few quick strides, mounting and securing the sack of apples. Sendoa walked into the thick forest, ignoring any direction from her rider. Amroth sat on the steed's back, finally conceding to let the beast make his own way.

Sendoa kept to a canter, warming up his muscles and getting a feel for this new rider. It wasn't long before Amroth's desire for a twilight ride was fulfilled.

Leaning his body closer to his mount, Amroth enjoyed the sensations of the distinct graceful maneuvers of Sendoa as he weaved through the trees. The strong body beneath him shifted smoothly and knowingly to the environment's obstacles. Closing his eyes, Amroth mentally reached out to Sendoa with his mind's eye.

No matter how he tried, he could not enter the horse's mind. A thick, iron shield held him out without so much as a fight. Amroth felt as if he was hitting his head against a wall. He kept trying, not realizing the toll it was taking on his own mind from throwing itself at an impenetrable mental wall.

Amroth tried feeling along the wall, looking for weak points, and was annoyed when he was unable to find any.

Pulling back into himself, he became aware that he was no longer upon Sendoa's back, and that the horse was sitting across from him. Staring into the horse's eyes, Amroth got the distinct notion that he was being laughed at.

All at once, pounding pain exploded within his mind. Amroth let out a strangled moan and collapsed on his side, curling up as the hammers beat down upon his mind. Ragged breaths were yanked from his lungs as his eyelids grew to lead weights, pulling him into an amplified darken hell. The very ground beneath him clawed and raked, leaving burning sensations in it's wake. The very air stung with frozen blades his sensitive skin.

A soothing silk brushed along his back and Amroth sunk into it, agonizingly turning and burying his face in its calm void, taking off the distant edge of unbearable pain. A low rumbling, reminiscent of the earth, coaxed his mind and a foreign presence calmly waited just out of his mind, tentatively brushing up against his outer senses.

Part of him reached for the presence, desiring the calm and peace it radiated. It humbly entered his mind, slyly giving him the suggestion of sleep. Finding the suggestion quite favorable in his current state, Amroth let go of his conscience awareness, falling into a deep dreamless sleep were the pain of his foolishness did not try to rip him to shreds.

It didn't even occur to him that he let in an unknown mind into his own and left himself completely vulnerable to it.