The elf sat alone in a vast library. Bookshelves lined the towering walls, stretching endlessly into the shadows. The only visible light came from a single lantern, casting a warm, golden glow—like sunlight through a sunflower—over the room.
She read quietly at a solid wooden table, tapping her finger gently against its cold surface. Her right ear twitched as she heard the creak of a door opening somewhere in the dark.
She paused, eyes still on the page.
"Who's there?" she asked, her voice calm and cold.
Heavy boots echoed closer, their steps slow and deliberate. She stood swiftly, grabbing her sharp white-and-gold staff. Her hand gripped it tightly as she turned her body to the side, raising the staff and aiming it into the darkness.
"State your business," she commanded.
The footsteps continued. She tucked her shoulder inward, bracing herself behind her staff.
Then, from the shadows, an old man stepped into view—and collapsed to his knees.
"Ooooooh, darling," he sang, voice wild and slurred. "I've cheated sooooo many times! Hahaha!"
His laughter rang out, loud and obnoxious. The elf exhaled slowly, lowering her staff. It was just an old man. A stupid, drunken one at that.
"Ohhh, my apologies, young one," he said, still grinning. "It appears I'm a little drunk! Hahaha! Please, let me sit with you."
The elf watched as he stepped closer, into the lamp's light. Only now could she see his full appearance. He wasn't just any man—he was an elf. An old one, incredibly old.
His skin was pale and sagging, wrinkled like paper. Deep bags drooped beneath his eyes, and scars marked his face—one on his cheek, another near his nose, and a third close to his left eye. His green eyes, dulled by drink, gleamed faintly under the lantern's glow.
He wore an old hunting jacket, brown and black and caked with dirt. The smell hit her like a wave—rotten, like a corpse left too long in a grave.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "No one is allowed in here at midnight."
The old elf coughed and wiped his mouth on his filthy brown sleeve.
"I'm just lookin' for a place to rest," he chuckled. "Didn't wanna get soaked to death, heheh."
The elf raised a brow. "It's not raining. Leave immedi—"
Lightning cracked outside, bright and sudden. She turned her head toward the mirror, her ear twitching again. Rain pattered hard against the windows.
She hadn't even noticed. She'd been so focused on her studies that the storm had crept in unnoticed.
The old man gave her a long, cheeky smile.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "You may stay. But when the rain stops, you leave. Understand, old man?"
He waved her off lazily. "Yes, yes, yes. I understand, young one. No need to get violent. No need for that."
He pulled out a chair across from her and sat down, slinging his brown, torn, dirt-covered bag onto the table. It landed on top of a book.
The elf narrowed her eyes at him, her expression cold and annoyed.
"Take the bag off the table. I'm studying. I'd appreciate it if you showed some respect—and gave me personal space."
He grunted and slid the bag off the table, dropping it to the wooden floor with a thud. He dusted his hands off, rubbing them on his shirt—which had once been white but was now grayish and stained.
"My apologies, young one. What are you studyi—"
He suddenly tipped backward, falling to the floor with a loud thump that echoed through the silent library.
He burst into laughter.
The elf gritted her teeth.
"If you must know," she said through clenched teeth, "I'm studying humans."
The old man groaned, slowly getting to his feet. He placed a hand on his knee, groaning as he stood.
"Humans," he muttered. "Interesting creatures… created by God, I suppose." He looked at her curiously. "Have you read Humans and Elves: Evolution by Henry Williams?"
The elf rested her elbow on the table, placing her hand on her head.
"No. I have not."
He nodded thoughtfully. "He had some very… interesting things to say. Foolish things, if you ask me." He chuckled. "He claims—get this—that elves and humans are the same. That we, and our ancestors, all came from humans."
The man laughed again—loud and hard.
"Ooooh, what foolish words I've ever heard! That we elves originated from such low-life dirt as humans? Ridiculous, yes!"
The elf dropped her elbow from the table, laying her hand flat against the cold wooden surface.
"You believe elves are above humans? That they're inferior to us?"
He looked at her without hesitation.
"Yes. I do."
"He really thinks we originate from these lower-class creatures—hahahahaha!" The old man threw his head back, laughter echoing through the vast, silent library. "Oooooh, young one… Africa, Europe, Asia I've traveled to many lands beyond the seas, but nothing" His voice rose to a furious pitch. "Nothing could ever prepare me for this god-forsaken hole!"
He spat on the cold stone floor, glaring at the elf across the table. "You see, young one," he sneered, leaning closer until his rank breath brushed her cheek, "I have a bit of a fortune for you."
The elf raised an eyebrow, her grip tightening on her staff. "And what fortune do you have for me, old man?"
The old elf grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. He stretched out a bony hand toward her. "I was hoping a plant-eating knife ear like yourself could help me figure it out."
Her eyes narrowed to slits. In a blink, she lunged her slender fingers clamped around his throat with a force that made his eyes bulge. The old man coughed, wheezed then, almost lazily, slipped a small blade from his sleeve and pressed it to the soft skin of her neck.
"Let go of me, young one," he rasped, his smile twisted and wild. "Or I'll slit your fucking throat."
The elf's cold lips curved into a smirk. Slowly, she released her hold and stepped back. The old man sheathed the knife with a drunken flourish, then slapped his palm against the table.
"We are elves, young ones!" he spat. "We're beasts that cannot be slain, cannot be killed a race of beasts!" His words slurred into a hiss, flecks of spit shining in the lantern light.
She stood still as a statue, eyes hard as frozen rivers, watching him with lethal calm.
The old elf staggered toward the window, one hand pressed to the rain-slicked glass as thunder rumbled overhead. Droplets streaked down the pane, cold and relentless.
"Ohhhhh… so many elves sit up in their mountains, ready to be hunted, ready to be slaughtered." His voice dripped with poison. "The humans whisper of a tribe of cave-dwelling elves who eat their own kind—when the meat runs out, they feast on each other. And I'll wait, young one I'll wa.."
He never finished. In a single fluid motion, she drove her boot hard into his ribs. The old man smashed backward into the window. Glass exploded outward with a sharp, crystalline roar.
Before he could recover, she spun her staff and struck his jaw with its butt. His head snapped back. He flew through the shattered frame, tumbling into the storm outside. Shards of glass sliced into his face and arms as he landed face-first in the mud below.
The elf climbed gracefully through the broken window, boots crunching over shards as rain lashed against her cloak. She stood over the old man's limp body, grabbed the back of his filthy jacket, and flipped him onto his back. His face was a mask of mud, blood, and glass.
She stared down at him, her eyes glacial and unblinking.
"You are one pathetic, drunken old man," she murmured, voice colder than the storm.