Orhan, the forest city of Kings. Den of the mightiest of heroes, originator of the strongest swords, creator of the most potent magics. A city of celebration in the day and of lights in the night. But beneath the surface of the city, darker workings take place. Schools of black magic, training an age of dark wizards to one day rise above the kings of all other kingdoms - to take charge of the world.

In once such school of darkness, a band of elves was trained by a human in a cloak of never-ending blackness. And in this school of darkness, there was an elf by the name of Faindil Trai'Daen.

- -

A falcon burst through the cover of the clouded day, shrill cry coursing through the midday air as it tore through the sky. It hurtled towards the ground, pulling up at the last moment, and taking rest on an outstretched arm covered with a black cloak.

"You learn quickly, Faindil," whispered a deep voice from behind the elf who held the creature. "It has taken many of my students months to learn to summon a living being."

Dark brown eyes peered out from beneath a black hood. "Thank you, master," replied Faindil Trai'Daen, sweeping the hood from his head and allowing dark brown hair to flow past his shoulders. He bowed deeply and offered the falcon to his master.

"No," whispered the dark wizard, holding up a hand. "The bird is yours. Do what you wish with it. Keep it. Set it free. Eat it for dinner, even." And although his face could not be seen underneath the hood, Faindil could almost hear his master's smile at the suggestion of the dinner.

"You are ready," hissed the master, "to learn more powerful magic. Magic that is not usually taught to any student. Magic for the upper echelon. I pray you are ready." he muttered, more to himself than to Faindil.

"I am ready, master." replied a solemn Faindil.

"Good," replied the master in a soft hiss. "Two days from now, deep inside the Orhan forest. You will know where to go," And with no flash, nor bang, nor celebration of any sort, he was gone.

A lone falcon soared through the air.

- -

"His soul is wavering."

"It is unsure. It loses its faith."

"Laerion teaches him. Ask Laerion of what his eye has foreseen."

"Call him to our realm."

"There is no need to call him to your realm, good oracles, for he is already gracing your presence."

A black-cloaked figure stood at the entrance to the Hall of the Oracles. His hood was drawn back, blonde hair shining, black eyes as bottomless pools. He stared around the Hall, at the black walls with paint so glossy that it appeared as if liquid waterfalls of black were pouring down the borders of the room. The ceiling and floor were nearly identical to the walls, and the only disturbance in the pattern of liquid black were the shining silver borders of the black mirrors which held the oracles - eight mirrors, one per wall.

"Welcome, Laerion." echoed an empyreal voice coming from the mirror on the furthest wall. "Tell us, how goes the training of the elf, Faindil Trai'Daen?"

"It fares well, High Oracle. But I have had a most disturbing vision."

"One of Faindil Trai'Daen's betrayal, am I correct?"

"More correct than I would wish you to be, High Oracle."

"Do you believe these visions to be true, Laerion?"

Laerion bowed his head reluctantly. "I do, High Oracle. I do believe them. I do not wish to, for he could make such a powerful black wizard. He could be essential to our plans. Is there nothing I can do to stop him?"

The Oracle laughed a haunting laugh. "You should know by now that I cannot guide you down the correct path. Every small choice that either you or Faindil make can alter the destiny that you saw in your vision."

Laerion bowed to the hall of mirrors. "Thank you, High Oracle. May I seek your advice again one day."

The High Oracle watched Laerion leave, and when the black doors shut behind him, she whispered to the others, "I don't think he'll be coming back."

And the Oracles whispered in agreement.

- -

The evening was young in the kingdom of Orhan. Faindil had ventured from his home, although the training that the master had promised him was the next day. Besides, what was a little making merry? Of course, there was a party at the core of Orhan. There was a party nearly every night under the sparkling stars and the colored lamps. The ale was free, and the party was always filled with merriment.

When Faindil arrived, the tables were decorated, the music festive, and the attendees dancing, for the most part. He took an ale from the local bartender (who always found his way to such town activities) and took a seat at a table, across from a stunning looking blonde elf.

"What's your name?" he asked politely.

"Simblemyné," she replied.

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's a very unusual name for an elf. Where did you get it?"

"It was my late mother's favorite flower," she remarked softly.

"Your late mother? I'm sorry to hear that," said Faindil. "Your name, however, is lovely, Simblemyné." There was a long pause before Faindil extended a hand and asked, "Would you care to dance with me, Simblemyné?"

"I would love to." the elf smiled, extending her own hand to Faindil.

And he took her hand and they danced together under the moon, under the stars, under the lights...

"Where do you live?" Simblemyné whispered into Faindil's ear.

"The outskirts of town, nearer to the forest. Why?" he asked.

"Shall we go back to your home?" she inquired with a devilish smile playing upon her lips.

Faindil couldn't help but grin. "Of course!" he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowds.

- -

"So what do you do?" asked Simblemyné, twirling her hair around a finger.

Faindil frowned. He hadn't thought that they had come back to his home to talk. "I'm a mage apprentice," he said.

"Really?" she asked, interest written all over her face. "What magic are you learning?"

Faindil considered the question for a moment, and, for some strange reason, he decided on a whim to respond with the truth. He leaned in close and spoke in a whisper. "Black magics,"

Simblemyné's eyes opened wide. "Isn't that.outlawed?"

Faindil nodded solemnly. "Dangerous too,"

"Then why do you do it? It's outlawed. No one else uses it. I-I-I don't understand."

Faindil's eyes softened. "I don't know anymore. I do it because they need me. Because I am strong. Because I can fight. I have never fought with sword or bow, and as such, I am no great hand at them. But this.this is the one thing I can do. This is the one place that I feel right. Like I belong."

Simblemyné shook her head. "You're wrong." she said, her voice taking on a somewhat otherworldly tone. "White magics are powerful too. I know who you are with. You are one that fights against my people."

"Your people?" Faindil asked frantically.

"My people, the white mages."

"I have fought no one!" cried Faindil

"But your people have! And you will too! You have fought against us, the bringers of peace, the guardians of the light. Yours strike us down. They take away this land's only hope for peace. You are the one who robs the land of the light!" she screamed.

Faindil stared at Simblemyné, dumbfounded. "I never thought."

Simblemyné's eyes glistened with tears. "Please stop. Please. Save this land, Faindil."

"My ending this cannot bring peace." Faindil objected.

"Yes it can," Simblemyné said, with a hint of desperation in her voice. "You said it yourself that you had immense power. If they lost you."

Faindil shook his head and stared at the table. "Simblemyné.I believe it's time for you to go."

"Faindil, please!" Simblemyné cried, leaping up from the table and sending her chair clattering to the floor behind her. "Please, don't make me go. Please! You must put an end to this!"

Faindil stared up at Simblemyné, flames leaping from his eyes. "Go."

"I can't. Not without ending this."

"If you do not leave," Faindil growled, standing up. "I will make you leave." His eyes danced now, danger lurking beneath them.

Simblemyné stared at Faindil, as if she were daring him to attack.

He advanced.

Simblemyné's bottom lip quivered as she attempted to stand her ground, but took an unvoluntary half-step back. "Please." she whimpered.

"I don't want to hurt you," Faindil muttered, his voice, although soft, reverberating against the walls. He raised his right hand, which was glowing very faintly, but emitting a powerful heat.

Simblemyné took a step back. "I'm sorry, Faindil." she whispered, fleeing from his home.

Faindil slammed the door shut behind her, throwing himself against it. He ran his hands through his hair and cried in a manly fashion

- -