Chapter One - The Day The World Ended

I'm afraid. I'm terrified. I have no idea what possessed me to do something as stupid as going against the rules of the Order. When I was chosen to join them as a child, I knew fully what would be expected of me. I knew what the consequences of any actions against their creed would be.

Yet, I chose to break my vow.

My name is Rhyndine. I am... was... a High Templar in the Order. It was my job to instruct the Templar and Knights below me in the tenets of the Humain government and religion. I was up for advancement to the Count class at the end of the year. I was the best spearman they'd had in generations. They said I would climb the hierarchy quickly with my skills. They said a lot of things.

Now, they're saying a lot of things about my "tastes" in partners.

Who would have thought their "most devout and pure" High Templar would be stripped of his position and honour for sleeping with the enemy? And, given the choice, I would do it again. I would stare deep into those deep green eyes before kissing the soft mouth. I would run my fingers through midnight blue-violet locks as my neck was nibbled on. I would run my tongue over almost white skin.

I fear what my punishment would be were my partner a female.

My musings are interrupted by Lady Brayson's words. Our... Their most beloved Imperiess and her partner, Imperior Ellekney, are to give my sentence now.

"High Templar Rhyndine," she says from her seat of honour at the head of the table. "You are charged with fraternizing with the Elfen and breaking laws that we hold most dear. Do you still hold on to your guilt?"

I sighed. I never could lie to anyone. I really couldn't lie while their detection spell was in effect.

"I am guilty, my Imperiess." My voice sounded empty to my ears.

"Do you choose to repent for your actions?" Lord Ellekney asks.

I hoped my voice was as strong as I felt my convictions were. "While I repent for breaking the Order's laws, I do not repent for my actions. I associated with Lone for my own reasons, reasons that should not concern the Order. I shared one bed, for one night, with an Elnoir nature mage two months ago. The Order discovered this one week to this day. Has that one night affected my performance as a High Templar? In the time that I committed this crime and the time until now, have I taught those below me that it is acceptable to love the Elfen? Have I changed anything about myself since then?"

"You have, my love," a soft voice crept up behind me.

"Viscountess Kinsyth," Lady Brayson acknowledges.

I watch my former lover stand beside me. Hmph. Beside me. Where was she when they came to our room to arrest me? Seeing her there, I remember why I fell for her in the first place. Her pale almond skin is nearly flawless. Her indigo eyes shine with the inner strength that pulls me in and drowns me every time I look into them. Her shiny black hair is pulled up from her shoulders into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Her dress uniform, black pants with a long, form-fitting silver-coloured tunic, fell over her curves perfectly. That's what she was before this: perfect. Exactly what I've wanted to be.

And now, she stands beside me, my main accuser in this mess I've managed to get myself into. How she found out, I don't know. I'll probably never know. Deep down, I'm not sure I really, honestly, want to know what she did to find out about my... transgression.

"My Lord, my Lady," Kinsyth replies. Her gaze went to me. "Why, Rhyn? Was I not enough for you? If you wanted a man, you could have taken a humain lover. We were to be married when you became a Count. I would never deny you a lover--"

"Yet, for some reason, you chose to take on several of your own?" I snort.

"Is that why you did it? Is that why you broke the law and jeopardized both your life and your career? Just to get back at me?" Her face is flushed with long held back anger.

"Why I did it is not your concern," I spit venomously at her.

"But it is the Order's concern, Rhyndine," Lord Ellekney interrupts. "Why did you have relations with an Elnoir?"

Why did I sleep with Lone? Did I even know? It was so simple at the time. He needed release. I needed release. We were... convenient for each other. He was as gorgeous as a man could be, almost feminine in appearance, but with a definite masculinity in his posture and actions. He wasn't my first lover. He wasn't my first male lover either. He was, on the other hand, my first forbidden, my first Elfen lover.

"I don't know," I whisper, my gaze falling to the floor. "I... I had something that needed to be taken care of... I... I needed companionship. I needed someone to talk to about everything going on in my head. Kinsyth, she was those things before she started taking other lovers. We were committed, yet I never felt farther from her. I wanted to vent to someone, and when I met a hooded stranger in the tavern in Madcraft, one that would listen to me, understand me, I took him back to my room. When he removed his hood, I didn't care that he was Elnoir. He listened to me like no humain would. I... I didn't realize I was in bed with him until I took off my clothes."

I look at Kinsyth. Her eyes are a mixture of pain and sadness. I know she's always loved me since when I became a Knight so long ago. It just seems that her idea of love and companionship involves seeing other people, yet still having someone stupid enough to wait at home for her. I finally realize that she's always been that way with me. I've always been the idiot who stayed in our shared room while she went out on the town with other members of the Order. I've always been the wallflower when we went to social events. I've always looked the other way when she came back to the room, drunk with another man or woman in tow, usually one that I knew very, very well.

"How did you find out?" I ask softly.

I watched Kinsyth avert her eyes. "Tysla."

"The little Cleric?" I'm shocked. Tysla is the best student I've seen in ages. I barely talk to him, but he's shown excellent promise. "How?"

"Before he joined the Order, he was a tavern boy. He saw you there. He saw you with that... creature. He heard you and the Elfen in your evening... relations," Kinsyth's eyes meet mine at the word 'relations.' "When he met you last week, he came to us to tell us what he knew."

I knew it! I knew that's where I'd seen the boy before. The little blonde boy with gray eyes was at the tavern that night. He did come to our room right after we'd... yeah... and he'd been the one to arrange for a horse for me.

"I see," is all I can muster.

"High Templar Rhyndine," Lady Brayson gently interrupts. "You have been charged. You have admitted your guilt. However, as you are one of the best students we've had for as long as I have been an Imperiess, Ellekney and I are willing to give you a break. If you publicly repent for your actions, we will allow you to keep your status as a High Templar. If, after five years, you have had no more transgressions," that word is spat out like a bad taste, "We will allow you to become a Count. Remember, most people in your case are exiled. Had you created life with that Elnoir, you would have been executed the moment you were found."

"Please, Rhyn, take it." Kinsyth's eyes pleaded with me, just like they had every night she couldn't find a replacement for me.

I wanted to. Oh, I wanted to renounce my actions for the evil they thought they were. I wanted things to go back to the way they were. I wanted...

"I can't." I look at everyone individually. My eyes fall on Kinsyth. "I'm sorry."

"Then I'm sorry, Rhyndine," Lady Brayson says. "By order of our decree, you are hereby stripped of your title as High Templar. You are to collect your personal possessions and be gone from this temple by dawn. You may never return to this, or any other temple for the rest of your life. You must leave this town by nightfall tomorrow, also never to return. If you are found in another temple or this city, you will be killed on sight as a traitor. Do you understand?"

I nod. A lump was forming in my throat, and I'm trying really hard not to cry. This was my life. This was my place. Where would I go? What would I do? I have nothing else but my place here in the Order.

Wrong. I have my pride. I have my morals. I have my honesty.

"I understand." I turn to leave, holding my head high.

-----

I'm in the room I share... used to share with Kinsyth. Luckily, she's not standing over me as I pack my few personal things. A picture of my parents before they died. A small, thin smoking pipe. The few garments that were not associated with the Order that he owned. The set of throwing knives he received on his last birthday from Greshen.

The door opens and I look up. A small blonde head pokes inside. Tysla. I want to be mad at him. I want to scream, to yell, to beat the child senseless for what he revealed... but I can't.

"Tysla," I nod to him, turning back to packing my things.

"I'm..." a soft voice floats to me. "I'm sorry, Sir Rhyndine."

"Just Rhyndine, now, kid," I mutter.

"Then, I'm sorry, Rhyndine," he tries again.

I can't look at him. I just can't.

"Please leave, Tysla," I try, almost finished packing.

I hear a set of footsteps step into the room. I know the kid is standing there. I can picture him exactly. His Cleric's robes touching the floor due to his short stature. His short blonde hair barely touching the tips of his ears. I can feel those expressive gray eyes on my back as I gather my small tent.

"Rhyndine?" he asks, his voice confident.

"I said leave, Tysla," I return, picking up my newly packed things and my tent. "There's nothing more to say."

"But there is," his voice took on a mysterious quality that forced me to listen. "We will meet again. You will be with another Elfen lover, and I will search you out. It will be my mission to kill you, but we both know that I cannot. The gods have plans for both of us, Rhyndine. Plans that far outweigh the plans of the Humain and the Elfen. When we meet again, you will not recognize me, but you will feel drawn to me. Remember these words, for they are the voices of the gods."

I blink. I can't believe what I just heard. The boy thinks he's a prophet? I snort. There's no way. He would have been found long before now had he been a true prophet. I shake my head and push my way past him. I've had more than enough strangeness for one week.

I walk out of the temple with my head held high. Everyone whose gaze meets mine, I don't shy away from. While I am not proud of breaking the rules, I am proud of standing up for what I believe in. As I slowly make my way out of the halls, I remember just what originally got me into this mess.

-----

My eyes fell on the hooded stranger at the bar. I looked around, and found that the only seat left in the establishment was right next to the hooded person. I sat down, giving it a nod of acknowledgement. I waved the bartender down.

"Ale, please," I said.

He nodded. He was a portly man who carried the stench of grease with him wherever he went. His balding head was as greasy as his body odor, and his beady black eyes belied ancestry that wasn't totally human. Were it found out he was a half-breed, the Order would have him terminated in a day.

It had shocked me originally, when I found out that some of the outlying regions were not following the Order's decree to not allow interbreeding between humains and the Elfen. The Order had called it "forbidden, the way to the end of life as we know it." But seeing the product of such a union, I had to wonder if the Order really knew what it was talking about.

True, I'd been thinking about things lately. Dangerous things, the Order called it. Their once perfect student had started questioning their authority. I suppose it happens to all their students eventually, and I also suppose that most of them work through it to realize that the Order is really, truly right. I wasn't so sure about that.

The bartender set the ale in front of me, and I took a long drink from the mug. I was thirsty, very thirsty, and within no time, the mug was empty. I was ready to gesture for the barkeep when a voice perked up beside me.

"Barkeep," the stranger said in a musically soft voice. "This gentle man does wish another beverage. I shall provide the coin for it, if you would."

The barkeep nodded, but the look on his face spoke of his barely understanding the strange man. He brought me another mug of ale, and I nodded my thanks to him. I lifted my mug in a toast, and he did the same. I smiled, hoping he'd lower his cowl so I could see his face. I guessed that it was a him, as the voice had a certain masculine lilt to it. But the more I thought about it, the more I really couldn't tell my friend's gender by voice alone, nor could I tell by body shape, as the hooded stranger was covered from head to foot to wrists with the large, billowy cloak. Gloves covered the stranger's hands, and clunky looking boots covered its feet. Everything about the stranger was androgynous, and it was most intriguing to me.

After a few more drinks, I turned to my strange benefactor. "So, what brings you to this fine establishment?"

"I am searching for someone," the hooded stranger replied.

"If I may, who?" I returned.

"My quest is finding the lost child of our race," the stranger answered cryptically.

"There is a lost child? From what village? I'll help you find him!" I stood, ready to leave. "We must go immediately."

A soft chuckling broke my dramatic speech. I looked at the stranger, and saw the cowl start to slide back. I didn't know I was holding my breath until my chest started to burn. I saw the palest skin I had ever seen start to slide from behind that hiding hood. A smooth, pale nose peaked out first, and I noted its almost aristocratic sharpness. Next I saw high-boned, barely tinted cheeks, followed by a pointed chin. The cowl was removed completely, only to have the stranger turn to look him in the eye.

Eyes as green as the deepest forest stared back at me. There was a sharpness to his features that I wasn't used to seeing. By this point, I was mostly positive than my companion was of the male persuasion. Deep in those green eyes were small flecks of a metallic golden colour, hypnotizing in their intensity and rarity. I watched as the golden colour seemed to swirl and melt, sucking me into those green depths.

I shook my head to clear it. What had just happened?

My head slightly clearer, I looked over the man's face. His features were almost harshly sharp in their intensity, but beautifully proportioned for his face. My eyes met sharply lush locks of midnight blue-violet hair cut to fall just above his chin. When the light from the lanterns around the tavern hit the hair just right, it seemed to shimmer like an expensive, exotic jewel.

I wanted to think that the hair colour was just a dye, or a condition of genetic deformity... I didn't want to think that this gorgeous man was actually...

He tucked his straight hair behind his ears... and those ears were decidedly pointed at the tips.

"Elfen," I spat.

I stood, a little wobbly from the alcohol, and tried to reach for my spear. I had forgotten completely about leaving the weapon in my room at the inn across the street. I grabbed the pair of knives I kept in my boots, hoping to fend off this beautifully evil, enchanting creature before it could slit my throat.

I held my knives blade down, hoping to stab the man... no... creature before me. I couldn't think of the Elfen as men. They were creatures, so said the Order. And creatures were not permitted to live like the humains.

The Elfen held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Why would you choose to destroy me now that you know my true self? Was I not humain enough when you first sat down near me? Does my ancestry make me that different from yourself?"

I couldn't listen to him, even though his words made perfect sense to me. I looked at the blades in my hands, at the light glinting off the silver as my hands shook in preparation for battle. Knives were not normally my thing. While efficient enough with them, they weren't my strongest point.

My thoughts were broken by a soft chanting. Magic? Verbal magic? I looked around, only to see the Elfen's lips moving slowly, a smile spreading across his face.

"With the touch of fingertips, my love, I bid you sleep." His words rolled over my ears just as the spell rolled over my consciousness. A sleep spell. A simple one. One of the first spells taught to humains in the Order. I sleepily watched him reach out to me, and felt his fingers on my shoulder. I tried to swipe at him with my knives, only to find they had fallen to the floor. My eyes fought to stay open, but it was a loosing battle.

I closed my eyes and only barely felt a set of arms catch me from my fall before the blackness took me.

When I woke up, I was in an unfamiliar bed. I sat up quickly, afraid that I'd been captured by the Elfen man.

Speaking of, where was he?

"I would not sit up so quickly were I you," the musical voice floated towards me from my right.

What is this? Could that creature read my thoughts? My head suddenly started pounding. Damn. I forgot about that. Sleep spells always leave the victim dizzy for a couple hours after they fade. I lay back down on the bed, holding it with my hand.

How could I let my guard down so much? I was a High Templar, for crying out loud! I was trained not only in the traditional combat arts, but in verbal magic as well. Why didn't I have a counter-spell ready? Why didn't I recognize the words of that incantation?

Because you were too busy drooling over the man speaking them, that little voice in the back of my head offered. I had to agree with myself. The Elfen man was absolutely gorgeous. When I watched the creature glide across the floor with a grace only found in creatures of nature's perfection, I almost forgot why I was supposed to hate the man's people. The man stopped at the bedside table and picked up a glass of clear liquid.

"Water?" he asked, his voice flowing like the liquid he held.

I nodded. He handed the glass to me, and without thinking I drank deeply from it. Only after swallowing and allowing a smile of appreciation to cross my face did I wonder if it was poisoned. My eyes bulged out, and I started to cough.

He chuckled. "You need not worry. I would not save you from yourself only to extinguish your flame."

"Why?" I asked.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his grace evident in every single move he made. He brushed a lock of my shoulder length brown hair from my eyes. I really should have gotten my hair cut; it got in the way more often than not. I blinked when he smiled at my pondering, and I once again wondered if he could read my mind. His face started moving closer to mine, and I briefly wondered what he was doing... That is, until his sharply pointed nose was a finger's width from my own.

"What...?" I breathed, both intrigued and terrified at what he would do.

His hypnotizing eyes drew me in again. I found myself swimming in the green and gold irises within moments of meeting his eyes. I suddenly wanted to meet his lips with my own, to taste the mysterious man. I was closing my eyes and reaching forward when I was interrupted.

"Greetings," he breathed, his lips nearly against my own. "My name is Lone of the Elnoir. I am truly enchanted and blessed by the gods to meet you."

"I'm..." I gulped, my eyes still drowning in his. "I'm Rhyndine, High Templar of the Order of the Humains. It's... it's nice to meet you, too, Lone."

Lone's hands placed themselves on either side of my face. I'd had other lovers, a few of them male, and I could only guess at what would happen that night. I was going to get fucked, and good.

I really didn't care at that time, though, as Lone had decided to plant his most deliciously luscious lips on my own. I kissed him back frantically, my arms wrapping around his neck like my life depended on it. Gods, when was the last time I'd slept with anyone, man or woman? I didn't want to think on it, as Lone's lips were divine as they moved over mine, but it came to me like an unwanted thought. Kinsyth. She was the last person I'd slept with. The last man I'd slept with had been dead for two years. Wow, I thought, that's a long time. I hope I still know what I'm doing.

One of Lone's hands made their way to my shirt, ghosting the fabric over my nipples. I opened my mouth to gasp, only to have it cut off by the warm tongue that chose to explore its caverns. I moaned into the man's mouth, hoping he wouldn't just leave me lying here, unsatisfied, like Kinsyth used to. Stop that, I berated myself, Stop comparing him to Kinsyth. Besides, if he leaves you hanging, you have a hand... I gripped his shoulders, having moved my arms from around his neck. I tried pulling him closer to me, wanting to grind my quickly hardening arousal into a matching one I hoped to find on him.

"Patience, my High Templar," Lone breathed into my mouth, and I could not only feel, but also hear the smile on his face. "We shall both be sated this eve."

I groaned. Gods, just the way he spoke was driving me insane. The way his voice rolled over the words of the Humain tongue was pure music, pure magic, pure erotica.

"Please," I was begging already. It had been so long... "I need..."

"Shh..." he shushed me, gracefully swinging himself onto the bed to lay over me.

He stretched over me, covering me in his unfamiliarity, his exoticness. I could see why the Order said the Elfen would tempt the Humains. The Elfen seemed built for pleasure, or at least this one did. If all Elfen were as beautiful, and capable of doing the wonderful things that Lone was doing currently to my neck, the Humain were doomed to lose the war.

A particularly sharp nip at the base of my neck brought me out of my thoughts with a loud, "Ahh!"

Lone sat back over my hips. His haunting gaze caught mine, and I watched as he slowly untied his shirt, letting it billow out, giving teasing glances of moonlight pale skin and the darker pink of nipples. My fingers reached out of their own volition, and I would swear I felt a spark when they touched his skin. He pulled his shirt off, and I had to hold back another gasp.

Skin like marble. Flawless. Pale. A light definition of muscle underneath. Not a single hair. Light rose-coloured nubs puckered in the cooling night air. A faint sheen of sweat.

Sweat? The Order claimed that the Elfen didn't have sweat glands. They also claimed them to have small amounts of body hair, much like the Humain, but as my fingers walked up and down his chest, I felt no such thing.

I stopped pondering anatomy when Lone's fingers made quick work of my own shirt. His skilled fingers seemed to hit all my sensitive spots even without knowledge of their existence.

"Lone!" I cried when he ran his trimmed nails over my nipples.

What was he doing to me? It was incredible. I'd never felt anything like what that man was doing to be, not with Kinsyth, not with other female lovers, and not with male lovers. The Elnoir man was either very, very skilled in the arts of seduction or a trained prostitute. I sincerely hoped for the former.

Lone shifted down my torso on the bed until his mouth was even with my chest. My eyes watched him intently until I saw a small smirk form on his angular face. He flicked an equally angular tongue out, catching the nipples he had just finished playing with using his fingers. I arched into him, feeling pleasurable sensations shoot from my nerves there straight to between my thighs.

I wanted to touch the man, to return the favour, but one gaze from his hypnotic eyes and I was unable to move. What was wrong with me? I hadn't heard him utter the words to an incantation of an immobility spell, and I hadn't seen the movements required for the symbolic version of the spell. Why could he pin me to the mattress with just a look from those beautiful, haunting eyes?

Lone's smirk widened, and I felt his ever-busy fingertips roaming down my chest to my stomach. I watched his fingers on my bare abdomen as he traced exotic looking symbols over it.

"What... are you doing?" I panted, my eyes darting for the door as I worried that he was actually casting a symbolic spell.

"I am arousing you," Lone replied plainly.

"You're not... you're not..." I stuttered. I was starting to worry with all of this mysterious movement on Lone's part.

"You need not fear," Lone replied, bending to press his lips against my stomach. "I shall not harm you, nor shall I use the arcane ways on your person."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I breathed a sigh on contentment. Finally, I breathed a groan of pleasure. Lone's hands were magic, there was no doubt in my mind. Whether he said he was using magic or not, my body believed that there was some form of the arcane involved. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have felt that good otherwise, and he hadn't even reached my pants.

"I need you to lift your hips," Lone said softly.

I hadn't even noticed that Lone had started removing my pants. All that was registering in my brain were the wonderful touches, the sensuous lips, and the aching need between my legs. I didn't think I could ever be as hard as I was at that moment in time. Watching Lone, watching him touch me, watching that smirk on his face shift when I responded with a particularly loud moan. It was, in a word, wonderful.

I lifted my hips off the bed, allowing Lone to pull the waistband of my pants down to my knees. My erection made itself proudly known and stood there demanding attention from the beautiful man. My hips rested back on the bed, and Lone lifted my feet so he could finish removing my pants. I lay there on the bed, mostly naked, save for my leather gauntlets, my wool socks, and the small black ribbon I used to tie my hair back.

I reached for Lone's face, realizing that I was the only one who was anywhere near undressed. "Lone?" I asked, my voice breaking a little when his fingertips traced a particularly sensitive spot on my lower abdomen.

"Hmm?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he ghosted his lips over that spot his fingers had just been at.

"Um... aren't you going to... I mean..." Why was I acting so shy? It's not like I hadn't done this before... "You're going to... um... take off your pants, too... right?"

Lone smiled again, his lean face softening only slightly with his angular smile. He moved to the foot of the bed, then stood. He gestured for me to sit up and watch him. My eyes blinked once, twice, then I was sitting up, legs apart, mouth open slightly as I watched his slim fingers dance slowly over the ties to his pants. I wanted him to hurry up. I wanted to just take those pants off myself. I wanted a lot of things.

What I got, on the other hand, was one hell of a show. His fingers ever so slowly unwound the ties of the worn leather pants. He pulled the ties loose, but didn't let the waistband fall from his hips. He swayed a little, like he was caught in a trance or dancing to some unseen music. For all I seemed to know about how real Elfen were, either could be true. I started to worry if maybe he'd fallen asleep standing up or something, when his eyes met mine with an intensity that I'd never seen in another creature's eyes before. With a quick flick of his hips, his pants were at his ankles. My eyes went straight to the juncture of his thighs, were Lone's arousal stood proudly. It resembled the Elnoir man perfectly. Both were slim, yet held an inner strength. Both were mysteriously erotic. Both were driving me insane.

Lone climbed back on the bed and lay himself over me, his skin almost touching mine. With every breath he seemed to be getting closer, and I wanted nothing more than to grab him and grind myself into him until I reached that pinnacle of pleasure. Something, something in Lone's eyes made me stop. It made my breath catch in my throat. It made me want Lone to fuck me more than I wanted him to earlier.

I saw an unmatched desire for sexual satisfaction.

Oh yeah. I was definitely going to be on the bottom of our encounter. For some reason, I couldn't see myself being dominant with this man at all when he looked at me with those feral eyes.

I was too busy staring into Lone's eyes to notice his hand slipping between us until I felt his fingers wrap around my erection. He tugged on my gently, making me thrust my hips up with abandon. I suddenly noticed that my eyes had closed at some point, probably when I felt him touch me, and I opened them to look directly into Lone's eyes. My hips slowed to stopping, letting him set the pace for our tryst.

Lone's hand was demanding, yet gentle in its ministrations. It was everything it should and could be. I felt him take himself in hand as well, and when our arousals touched inside he warmth of his palm, I had to fight the urge to climax right then and there. His hardness felt soft and smooth against my own, holding the same inner strength the mysterious Elnoir man did.

"Do you desire more?" Lone asked, his lips brushing against mine.

Did I desire more? Did I? Did he really have to ask with the way I was carrying on with the incoherent pleas and subtle body motions?

"Yes... please..." I groaned, pressing my lips to his again.

After a few moments of kissing, Lone broke the kiss and, with that smirk that would be infuriating any other time, slowly slid down until he was breathing on my erection. He wouldn't? So elegant and refined a man as Lone wouldn't dare...

Yes. Yes he would.

My arousal was engulfed in Lone's warm, moist mouth and I cried out his name, bucking my hips to thrust deeper into that wonderful mouth. He let me thrust into him, pulling away a little when I pushed too deep. His teeth were just the faintest whisper of dangerous pleasure, while his tongue lashed at the vein running from root to tip.

But it had to end, as all good things do. Lone slid me from his mouth, leaving a lingering lick at my tip.

"Lone? Please? I need... I need to finish... please..." I whimpered, reaching to replace his mouth on my aching erection.

Lone shook his head. "You shall, but not in this fashion."

My eyes widened as Lone sat back on his heels, then spit onto his hand. I watched as his palm played over his erection, spreading the saliva over it. He lifted my legs until my shins rested on his shoulders. My eyes widened as he shifted himself forward, his hardness directly against my opening.

"Wait!" I said, hoping he would.

"Yes?" Lone asked, his eyes darker with lust.

"You're... not going to... um... prepare me?" I stuttered. I had been taken dry once, and that was more than enough times for me in this life.

Lone tilted his head in question, but said nothing.

"You know... um... here, let me up for a minute," I replied, shifting my body until I would no longer accidentally kick Lone in the head.

I retrieved my pants from the floor and searched one of my pockets. As a High Templar I carried a small firearm on my person, just in case I happened to lose my spear. Hmhp, I snorted to myself. Like I would ever lose my spear. I found my derringer-sized pistol, but I had no further intentions on using it on Lone. In a small ornamented pouch hanging from the grip, I found what I was looking for. While I hadn't used gun oil as a lubricant in a long time, I really couldn't think of anything else to use at the time. On top of that, I was almost aroused enough to just tell Lone that he could take me dry. I took the small vial of oil out of its pouch and palmed it, hoping to warm it to something more than cold.

I crawled back on the bed, briefly showing the vial of oil to Lone when he tilted his head in question as to what was in my hand. I sat back under him, and looked him in the eye.

"I don't know what the Elnoir do when this happens," I said, surprised that I wasn't stuttering. "But we humains need lubrication for this to be... pleasurable."

Lone nodded in response.

I uncorked the vial of oil, then spread its contents over two of my fingers, leaving half the small vial left over. My hand slid between my legs, brushing briefly over my arousal. My fingers trailed further back until a single finger circled my entrance. My eyes met Lone's as I slowly slid my index finger inside myself. I gritted my teeth, willing my body to relax and stop trying to expel my finger.

Lone watched me carefully, his fingers tracing patterns over my raised knees. My muscles finally stopped fluttering and relaxed, allowing my finger to slip in deeper. I wiggled my finger, trying to spread the oil around my inner walls. My fingertip pressed gently on the bundle of nerves whose location I knew only too well. I gasped, my eyes widening.

Lone's eyes also widened. "Are you well...?"

I interrupted, breathlessly. "Better than well."

I pulled that finger out only long enough to slip its brother inside when I returned it. I unerringly sought my prostate, jabbing at it and gulping air into my lungs as the pleasure ripped across my senses. I stretched myself, spreading the gun oil on my inner walls. I closed my eyes, the pleasure waves becoming too great to keep them open. I didn't feel Lone move my shins back onto his shoulders.

"Let me inside," he groaned, reaching for my hand.

"Mmm..." I moaned, complying with his request reluctantly.

I opened my eyes when I felt him press his erection to my opening. His eyes were fastened on mine, and I nodded once in agreement. There was no turning back at this point. There was no other option.

Lone pushed into me slowly, agonizingly slowly, and I'll admit, it hurt. For as much help as stretching is, it doesn't completely eliminate the pain of having a man's arousal pushing into you. But, within moments, Lone was fitted inside me. My inner muscles fluttered in protest once, then unclenched, allowing Lone to finish that last little push. I gasped at the sensation of being filled deeply.

"Are you well?" Lone asked, his voice a little strained.

I nodded, not trusting my voice just yet. Lone pulled out of me once, then pushed back in slowly. I groaned, and I absently heard him echo my sound. He sat back on his heels, still buried in me, and I used that time to shift one of my legs from his shoulder to around his waist. There. That was far more comfortable and less likely to give me a leg cramp.

Lone began thrusting slowly, and I was guiding his pace with my leg around his waist. I angled my hips a little, shifting minutely until I felt Lone hit my prostate. My voice was caught in my throat as my head thrashed from side to side in pleasure.

"Gods above and below, Lone..." I panted when he stopped momentarily.

"I desire your pleasure, my Rhyndine," Lone whispered, bending down to kiss my nose. "What is required of me to attain it?"

I smiled back at him, arching my back a little to angle my hips just so. "Just move. I'll do the rest."

And move Lone did. He roughly thrust into me once, then, gauging my positive reaction, he continued strongly thrusting in and out of me. My hand that had been oiled when I used the gun oil to lubricate myself snaked its way from clutching the sheets to clutching my arousal. I concentrated on angling myself so that Lone's erection bumped that small nerve cluster inside me more times than not. I tried to match my hand on my arousal to Lone's pace, but as the pleasant sensations started ricocheting inside my brain my motions became more and more erratic.

I could hear small sounds coming from Lone's parted lips, and while I was more focused on reaching my pinnacle, I perked my ears up to listen.

"Please... I need... So close..." Lone's speech still held his musical accent, but his formal words were gone, leaving him no different from myself.

No different from myself? An Elnoir, and Elfen, no different from me, a humain?

I didn't have time to ponder everything that revelation entailed, as I was soon overcome with pleasure. My climax splashed across my stomach and I cried Lone's name at the moment of my completion. I faintly heard Lone say something, then felt him spill himself within me. Such a sensation, being filled with a man's seed. I wonder if this sensation is the same that women feel.

I felt Lone pull himself out of me, and I moaned at that last little bit of contact. My eyes closed, sleep tugging at my senses, until I felt Lone's form lift from the bed. I opened my eyes to see him pulling on his clothes. I sat up quickly, an accusation on my lips.

"Not a word," Lone said without turning his face to me. "The seed of truth has been planted in you. When it reaches full bloom, then shall you seek me. When it bares fruit, only then shall you know my location."

I opened my mouth to say something, but his hands quickly flew through the symbols for casting the spell of slumber he had used at our initial confrontation. His fingertips touched my lips, sealing the spell to me.

My eyelids drifted closed as my vision blurred. The last thing I saw was a beautiful Elnoir man smiling faintly as he closed the room's door.

-----

I return to the present to find that I am almost out of the temple. The final doorway looms before me, and I almost feel a sense of dread at passing through them. I'm leaving behind everything I ever knew, just to I can stand by my convictions.

I realize suddenly that my reliving of the past has caused a bulge between my legs. A very obvious bulge, as my only set of civilian clothing is what I used in my teenage years to attract potential conquests for the evening at social gatherings within the temple. The tight cotton shirt is long-sleeved, white, and clinging to my suddenly attention-seeking nipples. The chocolate brown leather pants are constraining my obvious erection. I shift my pack so it sits level with my arousal, hoping to hide it from the onlookers that have gathered at the temple to see me leave.

Ten more steps and I am at the threshold. Ten more steps. I have ten steps to go running back to Lady Brayson and Lord Ellekney, begging forgiveness. Part of me wants to go back to them, to tell them that I was wrong, and that I'll gladly repent for my actions.

But a stronger part of me wants to stand up for what I believe in. And right now, I don't believe that my actions with Lone were wrong.

A form steps out from behind the threshold. Greshen. Or I should say, Great Lady Greshen. I have to use her title when addressing her now.

I nod at her, hoping that she'll let me pass without a word.

"Rhyndine," she says, stepping into my path.

I guess I'm not that lucky. Greshen always did like lecturing me on my actions, my choices. I could just hear it now, her telling me how stupid I was for disobeying the Order. Telling me how I should return to Lady Brayson and Lord Ellekney and beg for my position, for my livelihood, for my very soul. Those exiled from the Order are said to have a curse on their souls. They're said to not return to the Cycle upon death. People whisper that Exiles just cease to exist upon death.

Exiles. I step through that doorway, and I am an Exile. The second my foot meets the sand of the streets of the outlying town, I become an Exile. Not for love. Not for spite.

I become an Exile for standing by my beliefs.

"Rhyndine," Greshen says again, catching my attention from my thoughts.

I nod. "Great Lady."

I think my curt reply has set her a little off. Her face goes from caring and concerned to worried and motherly.

"Rhyndine... How could you?" she says. Her eyes are soft as they stare into mine. "The Order would take you back in a second. All you have to do is repent..."

"Lady Brayson and Lord Ellekney have already tried that one on me," I interrupt. "All my life I've done exactly as the Order wanted, without questioning them at any time. Up until now, I've believed everything they've told me without fail. I used to snub my nose at the Exiles for disobeying the Order, but now I know that all they did was stand up for something they really, truly believed in. They spoke their mind, which the Order says you are supposed to be able to do. And what did the Order do to them? They exiled them for doing as they were told. It's wrong, Greshen..."

"Rhyndine! Mind your manners," she interrupts.

I barely fight back the urge to laugh at her. She means so well, but she can't see what's right in front of her. After thinking about Lone and how he really wasn't that different from me, I think I've finally realized that whatever started this stupid war between humains and Elfen was just that... stupid. After seeing that humains on the outskirts of the Order's controlling influence interacting peacefully with the Elfen, I've finally realized that the Order telling its people that there are fundamental reasons for Elfen and humain to not get along is completely a lie. After seeing the way they hide from the people they govern, seeing how they don't care about the outlands that are nearest the "threat" of the Elfen, I've finally realized that they are not the all powerful, all encompassing, all knowledgeable group that I once thought they were.

I stand there, and after a few minutes of her staring at me, I start laughing. I can't help it.

"What's so funny? You just lost your entire life," Greshen asks.

I can't stop laughing. It's almost like I feel free, yet completely and totally oppressed. It's a strange sensation. I can't really describe it without saying that it's both utterly liberating and horribly hopeless.

"I... I don't know..." I managed to collect myself... barely. "Just... please understand, Great Lady, that I'm doing this for myself. This is something that I just have to do."

"You have to do?" she asks. She blinks once, twice, as if she's deciding what to say. Then her eyes soften. "I don't understand you, Rhyndine. I really don't. You've always had these different ideas, and they've always turned out for the best for you. Perhaps this will, too... But think of this. If it doesn't work out, and you step through this gate, you can never return. Exiles are shunned everywhere, even by other Exiles. Can you handle that?"

My eyes become serious, and I look sincerely into her face. "I can," I say, "and I will. I'm not going to back down, Greshen," she glares at me for my informality, "I never have, and I never will."

"You always end up surprising me, little brother," I can't believe she was resorting to using my childhood nickname.

I nod. "If that's all, milady..."

Greshen shakes her head. "I have one final task regarding your exile from the Order."

Greshen leads me to the side of the final gateway. I follow, my eyes darting around for what her task might be. My eyes fall on the few items I thought I would have to leave behind. She hands me my pistol.

"The Order wants its most treasured Exile to survive, wherever he ends up," she says, handing me my knives.

I slide the pistol into my pack. Carefully wrapping it in the blanket I have in there. My knives I slide into their boot sheaths, feeling slightly more confident now that I am armed.

"And this... this is a gift from Lady Brayson," Greshen hands me my spear, my magical spear.

I received this magical spear when I ascended to the rank of High Templar. It's blade is unable to cut the innocent. For the presentation, I was told to name my weapon. When I asked Greshen what that meant as she prepared me for the ceremony, she told me to just listen to the spear for it would tell its name to its rightful owner.

"Lillith," I whisper, taking the offered weapon.

A week. They had taken her away for a week to this day. When she left my side, that's when I felt totally lost. That was the first time I wondered if I had made the right decision.

Now that she is returned, I feel like I can do this> I can live the life of an Exile.

I look to Greshen, then wrap my arms around her in a fierce embrace.

"Thank you," I whisper, and my voice sounds far more lost and fragile than I would like.

"Take care of yourself, little brother," I can hear the tears that are barely held back from her voice. "You are the most honoured Exile the Order 's had in years. Just remember, no matter how honoured you may be, you are still an Exile. You're still banned from returning to this or any other temple city. Entering a temple city would spell your death. You probably will only be an unwelcome tolerance in the Outlands. I'd hate to think what would happen were you to enter Elfen territory."

My embrace tightens around her in an effort to comfort the one sent to comfort me.

"Be safe, Rhyndine," I can hear her voice breaking. "Be safe and live your own life."

I didn't think I would be doing this. A trail of moisture makes its way down my cheek, and my vision blurs. I thought I wouldn't cry. I told myself I wouldn't cry. I stood up for my beliefs. What am I crying for?

"I can't tell you how much this means to me," I say, my voice catching, threatening to break.

We break apart, and I rub the tears from my eyes. I grip my spear tightly, trying to harden my face. I must me doing a good job, because Greshen's face also becomes more serious.

"It's time," I say, shouldering my pack again.

Greshen nods. "I then I guess it's time to finish this."

I nod. I give her my final salute, the last action, as a High Templar. I'm just glad to do this last action with her, rather than anyone I didn't hold such a connection to.

"As emissary of Lady Brayson and Lord Ellekney, and as a Great Lady, I hereby proclaim you exiled from the Order, High Templar Rhyndine," she says, her voice forced to be as hard as she can make it. "You may nevermore claim your title or affiliation to the Order. You may nevermore enter a temple of the Order, upon punishment of death. Do you understand?"

My eyes meet hers, and I hope they're as devoted and dedicated as I feel. "I understand. Thank you, Great Lady."

I step past Greshen, and my feet rest on the sand of the road outside the temple. That's it. I'm an Exile. Without looking back, I start to walk down the street.

"May the gods look after you, my dear little brother."

I barely hear her words, but the sheer conviction and love in her voice makes me smile. Perhaps this won't be as bad as everyone thinks.