Page 223 of Fallen Nocturne

“I’m six,” I say proudly. “Almost seven.”

“Almost seven,” he repeats. “A very wise age.”

The frog croaks at his comment. I want to slap it.

The High Elf looks out at the forest, at the twisted trees and dark shadows and the wrongness that permeates everything.

“I made a mistake once,” he says softly.

“What kind of mistake?” I ask.

He’s quiet for a while, thinking, trying to figure out how to explain something complicated to a child and a frog.

“Have you ever tried to fix something and made it worse instead?” he finally says.

I think about my dress, about how I tried to sew up the tears and just made it look more ragged.

“Yes,” I say.

“I wanted to help and make things better. So I came here, to this land, and I tried to fix things,” he continues.

I tilt my head, curious. “What things?”

“Bad things,” he says vaguely. “Dangerous things. There were gods and monsters here. They were causing problems and hurting people. So I… I imprisoned them. I locked them away where they couldn’t hurt anyone.”

My eyes go wide. “You imprisoned gods?”

“I did,” he says, without sounding proud. “I sealed the worst monsters here. In Astefar. In this very forest. I trapped them so they couldn’t escape. I made it so they couldn’t spread across the world.”

I look around at the dark trees and the shadows that move when they shouldn’t.

“That’s why the forest is like this?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I turned Astefar into a prison. In doing so, I cursed it and made it what it is now.”

His gaze moves across the twisted landscape around us, the bent trees and the shadows pooling where light should reach.

“I thought I was helping,” he continues. “But I was wrong.”

“So you made a mistake,” I mutter and shrug.

“A very big mistake,” the elf agrees.

The frog croaks sympathetically. My urge to slap it intensifies.

“But you can fix it,” I say, picking at a piece of moss on the log. “You just have to undo what you did.”

The older elf looks at me with those weary, ancient eyes. “It’s not that simple. I can’t undo it alone. It would take someone with different power. Someone who the gods trust. Someone favored by the Unyieldings.”

He stops and looks at me more closely.

“Will you help me?” he asks suddenly.

I blink. “What?”

“Someday,” he says, his expression turning serious. “Not today or tomorrow, but someday, when you’re older and stronger, will you help me correct my mistake?”

I don’t really understand what he’s asking.