A thunderstorm began to stir as Jen’s lifeless form lay sprawled on the altar of an abandoned church. Her simple black robes hung loosely over her tiny frame, swallowing her elven figure almost completely. Her pale skin seemed even paler than usual, and her black braided pigtails were frayed, sticking out at odd angles behind her pointed ears.
Ard, the stocky Dwarf paladin, had removed his heavy armored gauntlets. He stood for a moment stroking his braided beard. Thinking. Then, he placed his sturdy hands over her head.
“She’s cold.” He said, almost in a whisper.
He closed his eyes and began to mutter in a language none of the others understood.
“Give me the diamond,” he finally said in the common tongue.
Elessar, a tall and elegant High Elf who always dressed as if he were attending a gala, reached into his fancy bag of holding and pulled out a hefty, shimmering diamond.
“This better work, holy man. I worked hard to steal that,” he muttered, handing it over.
Ard gave him a measured glance, taking the gem in hand. He closed his eyes again and resumed his incantations.
Revna, the towering Giantess barbarian, sat rocking on a creaky pew, uncharacteristically shaken. She gripped and snuggled one of her precious furs. Ever the comfort in hard times.
“Jen.” She sobbed. “C’mon, little mouse. Come back to us.”
“That’s good,” Ard murmured. “The voices of her friends can shepherd her back to the living plane.”
The rainstorm outside had intensified and, as if on cue, the flash from a lightning bolt lit up the windows as the diamond suddenly produced a blindingly bright light. Shining from within. The group flinched at the flash and as their vision slowly came back to them a thunder clap rumbled in the distance. The diamond’s light faded and then the stone turned an inky black and crumbled to ash in Ard’s palm.
Then Jen gasped for air. Her lungs screamed, her chest heaving as her eyes shot open. The world snapped into focus: the dingy church, the smell of wet moss, the faint sound of thunder and rain hitting the roof. And there, as she looked around, the faces of her companions leaning over her, wide-eyed, relieved, and incredulous.
Revna let out a small squeal of excitement. Ard’s lips twitched into a satisfied grin. Elessar shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation etched across his perfect features.
But it wasn’t just that she was alive. Something about her had changed.
Jen had always been a bit of a problem child in the group: prone to running off alone, pulling levers without a second thought, and obsessively curious—especially when dragons were involved. She had made a practice of keeping the rest of them at arm’s length despite their best efforts to get to know her and where she came from. She seemed to have a never-ending supply of pithy retorts, clever sayings and sarcasm that she used like a cocoon to remain aloof. But they all had to admit, she was funny and a bit charming, and possessed a guarded but undeniable sense of wide eyed curiosity and innocence that they couldn’t help but want to protect. Not to mention she was handy in a fight or a tough spot. She was fast, agile, she hit surprisingly hard for one of her stature and at times they would swear she could almost walk up walls. So they just accepted that they would never penetrate that thick shell and took her distant personality for what it was.
But now she regarded them with something almost… warm. More than that, her expression—normally guarded, sarcastic, impervious—was different. Vulnerable. Open.
She swallowed hard, voice trembling. “There’s… something I have to tell you guys.”
The three leaned in, eyes fixed on her.
“My name… my… real name… is Viatrix… Viatrix Thexiador.”
Silence. The weight of her words hung in the air, stunned awe etched on every face.
“Thexiador?” Said Elessar, “Shite, girl, are you fecking royalty?”
Everyone looked back at Jen, surprised by this new question.
She took a breath, steadying herself, a flicker of something lighting her gaze.
“Not exactly.” She said. “But I’m ready now to tell you where I came from and how I came to meet you all.”
And with that, the past began to unfold—her story, the one she had kept buried beneath every alias, every mask, every snarky remark meant to keep them at arm’s length:
“I was born the eldest child of a woman named Meretrix. Mom was a secondary consort to Vasilior Thexiador, the sovereign of The Elven Kingdom of Aetheris. I was raised in The Nefas, a walled off city within a city in the center of the capital. It’s a place where very old customs and traditions are kept alive regardless of the changes the outside world experiences. There Vasilior is more than a king, he is a living god to the lords, consorts, vassals, shamen and warrior monks who populate it.
I was raised with all the trappings and comforts of having noble blood, and all of the privileges that come with being the first born among my mother’s other children. But in the end I was still just a girl in a society that saw little use for women outside of entertaining their husbands, keeping the household, and (hopefully) making more men.
So my options for a future were limited from the moment I took my first breath. Girls in my family were taught to read and write the common tongue so that we could understand written instruction and make beautiful calligraphy. But that was where our education split from that of the boys. Me and the other girls were subjected to endless lessons revolving around etiquette, cooking, cleaning, the proper application of makeup and styling of hair, how to pour a drink or make a cup of tea as if one is performing a dance, and so on and so forth.
I found these lessons to be endlessly boring and was often reprimanded for daydreaming during lessons. I almost always found myself at the bottom of my class or having to repeat the whole thing while my peers moved on to “advanced” table setting, or some other worthless bullshit.
When I was busy daydreaming in class it was often in reveries about my life before the rigid education of my people had split me and my 3 brothers apart. We used to play together constantly. Running through the forests and pretending to be the great hero monks from our country’s history.
At home I would hear my brothers recounting the days events and lessons from their own schooling. As me and mother cooked and served dinner, the boys would blather on about this subject or that. Arithmetic sounded awful to me but I was absolutely fascinated when they talked about history or the studies of the natural world. But I was especially interested in hearing about their training in the monk arts.
It sounded like everything I had ever wanted and a slow boiling jealousy and resentment started to take hold in me. Jealously at my brothers for their freedom, resentment at my culture for keeping me from things I knew I could excel at.
So I started sneaking into the boys room late at night and pinching their texts. I would stay up all night reading in secret and then return them in the morning before anyone was awake. But I hit a roadblock when I discovered that, while the introductory material was written and taught in common, the rest of the material was imparted in the ancient language of draconic.
It was said that the Thexiador bloodline went all the way back to a single monk who had deciphered the draconic language and befriended a silver dragon who bestowed some of its elemental powers to the monk and declared him the protector of the creature’s lands. From that time on all of the most valuable knowledge was passed down and spoken only in the ancient tongue. A measure to keep outsiders from learning and a convenient way to keep the women from accessing more than the men deemed appropriate.
I had always been fascinated by the idea of this lineage and I often dreamed of dragons. I, like everyone else, knew it was a bunch of mumbo jumbo made up to reinforce and legitimize the power the elite held. But I thought it was romantic nonetheless and I often fantasized that the one who made friends with the mighty dragon would eventually be revealed to have been a woman all along.
So one night under the cover of darkness I stole away to the great library on the palace grounds where women were forbidden from entering by law, of course. I surprised myself at how effortlessly I was able to avoid detection, slip into the appropriate section and steal a text on draconic.
The next few months I slavishly devoted myself to learning the language. Reading the text all night and listening feverishly to my brothers speaking it at the dinner table. As well as eavesdropping on any conversations between men that I could get my ears on. Once, I even absentmindedly giggled at a joke one brother told to the others in draconic and when they all went silent and looked at me I had to play it off as a sneeze.
Armed with the ability to understand my new language, I was able to resume my studies into the monk manuals. I understood them almost implicitly and absorbed the theory like a parchment absorbs ink. Once something was written on the page of my mind it was there to stay. But I needed actual practice.
It was with great trepidation that I approached Viator, my twin brother, the one I felt most in common with, and made a request. I revealed what I had been doing in secret and to my delight Vi was thrilled and agreed to help me practice. Our lessons had to take place in secret whenever we could find time and make an excuse to go to the abandoned ruins at the edge of town.
I was a fucking natural from the start. It wasn’t long until I was outshining Vi in every aspect of the monk ways. I was faster, more fluid, and somehow stronger than my brother who was nearly twice my size. It was almost as if I could see things before they happened.
I even started coming up with my own techniques and moves that Vi couldn’t seem to get the hang of no matter how hard he tried. Those were the best days of my life.
Then came the marriage proposal.
Not to me, of course, women aren’t allowed to choose who they serve, eh, marry, so why would anyone have asked me. No, some rich asshole’s asshole of a father asked my asshole of a father (who I had only ever seen from a distance at state functions and never spoken to).
And so just like that I was sentenced to a lifetime of misery and monotony with no chance of parole. I could feel the noose tightening and all I knew was that I had to get out of it before it was too late.
One week before my wedding was to take place was the first time I met my husband to be. It was a large and ornate ceremony, conducted in draconic of course. It seemed to last for eons. At 30 feet away, it was the closest I had been to my father since he had expelled my genetic material from his testicles all of those years ago. My future husband was right next to me but he might as well have been 100 leagues away. He didn’t look at me. He did not speak to me. And when the ceremony was over he bowed to my father and promptly exited the chamber.
That night he came to my room and attempted to, against tradition, consummate our marriage before our marriage was a marriage. I instinctively reacted to his unwanted, forceful advances by giving the young elf a bloody nose. It was such a small, simple punch but it was enough. It was enough to betray that I had been learning what I was forbidden to learn.
And someone had to be teaching me.
I made up every clever cover story and lie that I could think of to hide Vi’s involvement in my training but in the end, they discovered the truth.
I had to watch. They made sure I watched. As they executed my dearest brother for the simple crime of sharing knowledge with a woman. Executed by the decree of a father who saw both of us with the same regard he had for a game piece.
Afterwards, I was told that, because my fiancé was such a powerful ally to my father, that I would be allowed to live. The conditions of my stay of execution were that I never speak or read draconic, nor practice the monk arts ever again. I would be under constant surveillance and if I were ever caught uttering as much as a word or throwing a single punch, I would have my throat slit on the spot.
So I ran. That night I slipped my surveillance, the palace guards, the city watch, and the perimeter guard as easily as most people stroll through a park on a lazy spring afternoon.
I swore that I would never return to my homeland and that I would never form an attachment to another being as close as I had been to Vi.
I was on my own and I was the only thing that matters now.”
The room stood silent for several moments after Jen stopped her story. The storm outside had softened to a steady rain, the thunder now distant, like something retreating. Revna was the first to move.
The pew groaned as the giantess rose, crossed the aisle in two long strides, and gathered Jen up in her arms before she could protest. Revna wrapped the fur she had been snuggling around her and held her tightly against her chest, one massive hand cradling the back of her head.
Jen stiffened at first—old instincts flaring—but then she sank into the embrace, letting the warmth of the fur envelop her.
“Oh, little mouse,” murmured Revna, her voice thick and warm, tinged with her familiar accent. “You should not have carried that alone. I know some of these feelings, too. Believe it or not, I am actually quite small in stature for my people. I’m a bit of a how do you say it… Runt. Everyone, even my own parents looked down on me and ignored me. I was always reminded that, to them, I didn’t exist.”
When Revna finally released her, Ard stepped closer. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t need to.
“I know what it is,” he said quietly, eyes steady on her. “To be born first and tossed aside for a sibling. My father does not hide the fact that my brother is his favorite. He’s even had it made official that I will not be the one to inherit his estate upon his passing. That’s why I’m out here; to prove through great deed and act of bravery that Ard is worthy of his birthright. Of his father’s love.”
Jen nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. She pulled Revna’s fur tighter around her.
Elessar, being Elessar, broke the moment.
“So,” he said, arms crossed, head tilted as he studied her anew, “why the sudden change of heart, princess?”
The word landed sharp, but not unkind. “Why tell us all this now?”
Jen exhaled slowly.
“Because. when I was gone. When I was dead.” she said, “I wasn’t alone.”
She didn’t look at them at first. Her gaze was set upon one of the broken stained glass windows of the church. Early dawn light had started to faintly illuminate it.
“There was a field,” she continued. “Endless green grass blowing in a gentle breeze under a blue sky with fluffy white clouds lazily drifting through it. Overhead, distant but unmistakable, there was a silver dragon on wing.”
She turned back to them. “Then I saw it. A shade tree in the middle of the field and under it… Viator.”
The room went even more silent than silent. A pin could have heard a pin drop.
“He told me that it was time to let go of the past. That his death was not my fault and that I need to stop carrying that guilt around with me. He said… He was proud of me.” A faint, smile touched her lips as she looked up at them. “He told me it was time to stop pretending I was alone and embrace the new family I have in front of me.”
A look of warmth and understanding washed over the party’s faces.
“And I think I agree with him.” Jen added.
The group surrounded Jen and embraced her. As the dawn light started streaming into the church in full, she realized that, for the first time since those days with Viator, she felt like she was a part of something. Like she belonged. Like she could trust someone else.
Jen wasn’t alone anymore.
A small, almost sheepish voice broke the quiet.
“So…” Ard said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do we call you Viatrix now? Or… Vi?”
Jen blinked, surprised. She looked down for a moment, thinking.
“No,” she said gently.
She lifted her eyes again, meeting theirs.
“That’s the name they gave me. Jen is the name I chose.”
She hesitated, then added, “He taught me one last thing.”
The group hug separated and Elessar arched a brow. “Who did what now?”
Jen cracked a smile “Viator. While I was there with him he said he had one last technique to teach me.” She shot a glance at Elessar “I need you to shoot me.”
“I beg yer pardon, princess?” Elessar looked incredulous. “Ya need me ta what?”
“I need you to get out your bow and shoot me. Aim for my heart.” Jen said it with a look and tone of resolve.
Elessar laughed “Ya gotta be fecking kidding me. Ya’ve already died once today. We don’t have anymore diamonds ta bring ya back again.”
“I know it sounds crazy.” Jen nodded. “But I have to know I can do it. For real.”
Elessar stared at her with a very uncomfortable look on his face.
“Please.” She looked at him confidently. “Trust me.”
A long beat.
Then Elessar sighed. “I hate it when ya say that.”
He walked slowly across the church. Jen stood in front of the altar and smoothed out her robes. She hopped up and down a couple of times and wiggled around to nimble up. Elessar reached his mark, drew his short bow and nocked an arrow. He hesitantly and slowly pulled it up to aim at her. Ard and Revna looked on, not believing this was actually happening.
Jen and Elessar locked eyes. Jen pointed to her heart. “Don’t miss,” she said softly.
He loosed.
The arrow flew straight and true. It traveled the distance between them in an instant, but to Jen time came to a crawl. She could see the arrow moving slowly as if it were trying to make its way through water. As soon as it was close enough she reached out and grabbed the shaft of the arrow as effortlessly as one would pick something up off a shelf. Then she spun, repositioning the arrow in her hand as she did so. When she completed the turn and was facing Elessar again she threw the arrow. As she released it time suddenly sped back up and she saw the arrow fly past Elessar’s head and embed itself in a wall behind him.
The silence afterward was absolute. It took everyone else a moment to compute what had just happened. Ard let out a gasp and Revna another low squeal.
Elessar looked back at the arrow stuck in the wall then back at Jen. “Well,” he said faintly. “That’s new.”
He looked at her again, something like awe creeping into his voice. “So… what now, princess?”
She lifted her chin.
“We’re going to kill my father.”