“Ulpen, why are we leaving?” questioned a small child with pointy ears. His posture lowered and it seemed as if he was crawling on all fours across the abundance of vegetation in the environment. He continued to sniff like a wolf tracking its prey.

“To apologize, my little Ilfrin”

The boy’s head snapped towards the old woman clothed in drags made of vines, a low growl left his mouth. “The Soligh don’t need an apology!”

The old woman slowly crept towards the child. The dying old vines dragged across the land, however, they swayed mesmerizingly. Time had made these vines shriveled, yet its weaving was as if mini-giants held them in place, unyielding in its shape. Various other flowers were adorned on the vines, but they too lost their color. Fungus now dominated the clothing, almost smothering the beauty that came from shriveled flowers. A dying beauty, a beauty of accepting death and using it to add uniqueness, this was the aesthetic of the swaying vines.

A cracked smile bloomed on her face causing the boy to flinch. He didn’t dare move when her hand reached for his ear. Its warm but weak massage helped the boy to unstiffen his body. “Ulpen, they banished us.”

“They did, but we were once Soligh”

“So why, they killed” a finger lay on his lips, which caused his quivering voice to lower until he stopped speaking.

“War is a clash of ideals. We wanted to destroy Lilandrago when Dragon came and planted it. We didn’t know if it would birth another being like it, whose blood brought suffering and death, and if Dragon would use us as food for it. The others decided to trust in Dragon whose actions were unlike its blood.” The old woman let out a small sigh, “I don’t wish to bore you my little Ilfrin with another long bedtime story, so to make it short. We fought when Dragon left, we lost, we were banished, and we wanted revenge.”

“That doesn’t mean that they had to kill Molak’s son, Uldrid when she was pregnant, Papyrus when…”

“Duldone,” her raspy small squeak had completely silenced the small boy. He didn’t know why, but his Grandmother always had power in her voice. It was like a faery’s, containing a mystical power that brought one's full attention.

“War breeds mistakes, we all get lost in our emotions during this perilous period. It’s why so many of us turned into Orcs, then Trolls. Time made us all realize the truths to the deaths and quell the inferno of rage. They took away our eyes, yet we are the ones to first see the truth,” she pointed at the appendages covering her eyes and the ones on Duldone. The appendages were more like bandages and held various flowers embroiled with blood.

“I hope we will be able to truly end this war. There should never have been Soligh or Duldoll, it should've only been Elves. Now hush, we must make haste and tread carefully.”

They ventured forth deeper into the darkness until they reached a slanted wall. They used the vines and roots stuck in the wall as footholds, along with magic to help move the roots and vines while softening the earth which they moved through. Created ropes that held them from falling from the roots and vines, ate from the mushrooms that grew on them, and guided every vegetation and earth they could to make a platform which they could rest on. At night, the old lady would recount knowledge long forgotten by the Duldoll. “Our land is in the shape of a wing. Like a wing, it has feathers, and feathers have layers. The slanted wall with mountains upside down is in fact a single feather. The two walls that we must conquer are feathers on the first and second layers of the wing. The Duldoll were banished to the third layer of feathery mountains, yet we do not venture deeper, as many horrific beings dwell in the layers below.”

They crossed upside-down mountains and hills attached to the feather until they felt a burning sensation on their skin. They journeyed atop the cliff of the feather, the feather had now become their land. It was then that they felt the heat of light, one layer was crossed, one more to overcome.

The sunlight felt strange to Duldone, yet the warmth reminded him of his Grandmother’s hand massaging his ear. He smiled and continued the walk with his grandmother. “Grandmother Makulet, tell me about everything when we apologize”

Makulet only nodded slowly in response. They walked until they met their final wall. The climb went slower as it was even more dangerous due to the soil being loose the further they climbed. Makulet’s talks had deteriorated and her movements became more desperate. When the warmth of the sun became scorching torture, they realized they had already fully climbed the last feather. “This is the pain of forgoing our grievances for peace, it will go away with time. The sun will accept us as we accept the Soligh,” muttered Makulet. Makulet’s condition had declined to the point where Duldone had to carry her the rest of the way. Duldone only had one option for Makulet to live, to apologize to the Soligh and hope that they accepted it and heal Makulet. 

Now, it was the final choice for Duldone. Whether to throw away all ties of his friends for a better chance of the acceptance of the Soligh, or to take the risk of keeping the bloody flowers. His hands brushed upon Makelet’s appendages, all but one flower was left. He remembered the promise to his friends, to become warriors and when strong enough, hunt the Soligh as revenge. He promised Milheilm that he would avenge his father and accepted his blood on his appendage to become a lily. Promised Voulendih that he would become a warrior as strong as him, to protect every Duldoll in danger no matter what, and accepted his thorn rose.

He regretted his choice of yelling curses and insults at Makulet when she tried to get him to remove the blood embroiled flowers. That day his tears were enough to wash away all the dirt and grime on his body. His screams probably reached the Soligh, yet they didn’t appear, he thought they hoped to hear more of his agony. Speak of the devil and he shall come. An arrow landed right in front of Duldone's foot.

“Speak Duldoll, why have you crept out of your hole,” a cold voice reverberated from the shadows of the sunny forest.

Ironic how the Soligh hide in the shadows when they are named to always be under the sunshine, thought Duldone.

“My name is Duldone and my grandmother’s name is Makulet. The. Reason... I ca-ame,” tears, snot, and a tightening of his throat made it harder to speak. “Was... to apol-ogize.”

The sound of an arrow whistling through the air came as soon as he finished speaking.

Drops of blood flowed from the hands of Duldone as his body started quivering. "My little Ilfrin," he heard Makulet mutter. "I'm sorry," as she dropped from his weakening grasp.