He stopped. Trik’s breath was slow and even and he looked like a man who had simply just walked down a hallway, rather than sprinted for hours. He walked over to the tree with the missing bark. He felt like he should know it, like he had been there before.

“Triktapic.”

Trik stepped back from the tree his head whipping around. He’d heard his name, a whisper on the wind, but it had been his name.

“Triktapic.”

Stronger that time as the wind began to pick up speed. The limbs of the trees swayed and the leaves rustled, sounding as if they were speaking a language only they understood.

“Show yourself,” Trik called out into the forest. The wind continued to blow, growing stronger as he stood in the forest of the light elves. Suddenly, the sky darkened and thunder boomed overhead. He showed no fear, as nature around him began to unravel. Lightening cascaded from the dark sky, striking the ground as the sky opened and rain began pouring down. Trik leaned his face back and closed his eyes. He felt the first drop hit his face and suddenly he was covered. The rain pelted him relentlessly and Trik knew this storm was for him. He felt the water washing away the dark places, carving through them like a river carves through a mountain with its overwhelming force. The thunder and lightning continued their dance in the sky as the rain continued to drench everything below. Trik fell to his knees, driven there by the weight of the memories being unlocked one at a time. Each door was forced open as the water pushed its way into every unclean place in him. Every life he had taken, every lie he told, every deed done in the shadows. He was stripped bare, his very soul exposed and he saw what he was, he remembered what he had been, who he had been. And he wept. The storm raged around him, the trees reached up with their braches to the life giving water, all of the realm cried out for it, cried out for restoration. And Trik knelt on the soaked ground, an assassin, once a King, now humbled by the memories that had been covered in the darkness of his selfishness.

He wept for his race. He wept for the destruction he had caused when he left the throne. He wept for the hurt and pain that he had caused and that he had allowed. He tilted his head back and threw his arms out and wailed with everything in him. He yelled until he had no more air left in his lungs to do so. And when his voice was silenced, the rain stopped. The wind died down and the thunder and lightning were gone. Everything was still, waiting. All of nature seemed to hold its breath as the wounded King sat broken before them. And then in the stillness Trik heard it again, his name.

“Triktapic,” the voice boomed through the stillness. “The greatest of our creation, the appointed King of the Elves, the one in whose care was entrusted all that we love, we are calling you back.”

Trik felt warmth on his skin and opened his eyes, only to have to shield them against the radiance before him. TheForest Lords stood before him. There were three men, tall as the trees around them. They had long hair like the race they created, only theirs was the color of the earth below their feet. Their eyes shown emerald green, bright and rich like the leaves that covered the branches. They wore robes of white that billowed around them, though the wind was calm and still. They looked down at Trik and he felt not their condemnation, but their hurt, and sadness at the life he had chosen. He felt their love, their longing to see him be the great King they had destined him for. He felt their forgiveness, if only he was willing to accept it and to walk away from the life that he had lived for so long.

“My lords,” he said as he bowed his head. “I am sorry. I have failed you for so long.” Trik felt the darkness in him stirring, the rebellious nature in him trying to rear its ugly head.

“Triktapic, such a time has come that you are to be humbled. We have allowed your rebellion for long enough. We love you. We created you for a purpose and it is time for you to fulfill that purpose. Let us heal the brokenness inside you. Let us be the strength you need. Let us bear the burden that falls on your shoulders.”

Trik took a shaky breath in as he allowed their words to wash over him. He wasn’t alone in his walk as King; he never had been. And now his people needed him, the human realm needed him, and the Forest Lords would stand with him and guide him.

“We have given you a Chosen worthy of her station. She will be Queen to your race. She will need your strength and you will need her compassion. It will not be an easy union for love is a choice. True, abiding, unconditional love is always a choice. Though you will struggle, it is through that love that you will become the King that you need to be—the King that you must be. Hear us now Triktapic, King of the Elves, you will crush the evil one who desires to enslave the humans. You will tear him down until he is but a crumb at your feet and through his destruction you will unite your people. There will no longer be light and dark elves, but only the Elfin.”

Warmth flowed over him again and he felt loving arms wrap around him and he was enveloped in the love of his creators.

“You were created for a purpose. It is your choice; it always has been and always will be, but we will never let you go, for you are our child and we love you.”

He sat still in that knowledge. Suddenly he was released and his eyes snapped open. The Forest Lords were no longer standing before him, and yet he still felt them. He pushed himself up from the ground and stood. Everything around him looked brighter, as if a film had been wiped away from his eyes and for the first time in a very long time, he felt peace. The pain was still there, but he welcomed it because it proved to him that she was real, his Queen, his love, the other half of his soul. She was real.