She pushed the wooden door open and walked into the tavern, squinting her eyes at the brightness – a sharp contrast from the cold, windy night. She brushes the hood of her long silver cloak back, white curls spilling out onto her slender shoulders and framing grey, dark colored skin. A sigh escaped her pale lips as she sidestepped away from the doorway, contemplating whether to stay or not. Looking back through the large window near the door, she saw the trees leaf-less branches whipping in the wind, and heard a crash of thunder in the distance. Shivering once and turning to look back at the tavern’s patrons and owner, she decided she’d stay for a while and warm up. Her small form moved agilely between the occupants, her eyes not looking up to see who they were. She reached to a table near the back and close to a window then slid into the wooden seat, moving the small pack she wore on her back to the table in front of her. Her hand moved to the buckle of the bag, unclasping it with the motions of one who has done them many times before. She shuffled through the contents – the worn map, creases frail with age; the canteen of water; few coins; and a silver necklace with a dragon charm on the end. Her hand emerged from the bag, the necklace’s chain laced through her fingers. Memories came rushing to her in a blur of pictures, but she dismissed them with a frown and shoved the necklace back into her bag almost hastily, moving the pack to her side again. Her ruby red eyes finally flickered around the tavern, resting upon each patron until they caught gaze and looked back at her. She laid her gaze on the tender and owner, a young flame-haired lady with an immensely strong magical aura around her. It surrounded her whole body in red, orange, yellow, and white hues, golden threads intertwined with the colors. She mentally labeled her as a fire element, but something else too – she couldn’t place the gold strands. Her eyes soon turned from her from a lack of interest, and looked to a short wine-red headed girl who seemed to have far too much energy. Her bright yellow eyes were dancing around the tavern and her small arm was looped through a man who walked beside her, a smile upon his lips as well.

She sighed gently, pushing her curls from her face. Snatches of a conversation about vampyres drifted to her pointed ears. She listened for a moment, always wary of the ‘pyres who lurked in the local taverns, but not after a few minutes of finding nothing interesting she stopped paying attention. A gypsy woman strode in, her lithe form wearing a jade colored dress that matched her eyes. She spoke with a rich Irish accent when she greeted the owner – a lady by the name of Faroe, she heard. They chatted in a friendly custom for awhile, laughing and smiling the whole time. But, she wasn’t really paying attention to them. Her eyes traveled to the window to watch the few travelers pass by, the wind’s howling audible through the slender pane of glass. The sounds of the tavern quieted as she focused her attention on the winds and the occasional flash of lightening. A voice jarred her to her senses, a man’s deep musical tone. "M’lady?" he said, and she turned her head, glaring up at him. He was a strikingly handsome elven man with wavy dark hair and tan skin. He wore two small earrings in the lobes of his pointed ears, and he was clothed in a white, un-cuffed shirt underneath a black cloak. He was smiling warmly at her, despite the cold gaze she threw up at him. "M’lady?" he asked again, "May I sit?"

She sighed to herself, not really wanting to be bothered, but she did yearn for someone to engage in a conversation with. She waved a hand to the seat, the silver rings on each finger winking in the light, signifying her as a strong healer and magick user. The elven man’s eyes jumped to them for a second then back to her own gaze, checking to see if she noticed. She let her eyes show that she hadn’t, although she quite clearly noted the glance. He looked almost satisfied, then lowered himself into the seat with much practiced grace. His head inclined forward a bit in greeting and he said in his musical voice, "My name is Atrus Sundrake, M’lady, and I wanted to ask you something. With your consent, of course."

"Zylesta Ryvnncloud," she introduced in a cold tone. "Ask away, if you must." She studied his face for a second and the crease between her brows deteriorated – but just a small bit.

He grinned and leaned closer to her, his hands folded together. Atrus’ eyes twinkled with interest; he spoke now in hushed tone, as if telling her a great secret.

"M’lady . . . I have a task to ask of you . . ."

Zylesta arched a brow questionably and replied just as quietly, "Go on . . ." She shook her head mentally, asking herself why she was getting into anything that might lead to trouble, but still she was intrigued to learn more.

"Well . . ." He began, glancing behind and to the side of him to see if anyone was listening. The tender was looking very bored, making a small flame dance upon her fingers absentmindedly. The young redhead was holding hands with the tall man she came in with, and the gypsy was sipping some tea. Others were talking and laughing, not paying any mind to the elf whom spoke with Zylesta. She though that strange – most questioned when an elf was seen with a drow – it was thought they were enemies. She saw it best not to question it, and nodded for Atrus to continue.

"I’m going to tell you a tale, of sorts. You may find it strange . . . but you do need to listen. Ask your questions, state your opinions at the end, if you have any." He voiced, his grin replaced by a look of seriousness. She nodded again, anxious to know more.

"In the olden times, there were five powerful magick users. Keimara, the enchantress of Night and Day; Ternlye, sorceress of Water and Dance; Ashlon, sorcerer of Air and Speech; Resyte, enchanter of Earth and Music; and Nari, enchantress of the Flames and Writing. They were all of equal standing and magickal competence, none surpassing the other. I’m not sure how they came to meet each other, but I do know they were great friends from the start, and none challenged or yearned for neither rank nor a higher power then one another. The Five ruled a great realm, covering a vast amount of land – but were never challenged by the populace inside or outside the kingdom. Their rule was a peaceful one.

"A great storm passed over the keep in which the Five lived one year, and the river near the Eastern wall swelled to immense depths and widths, a grave danger for anyone foolish enough to venture near it. The Five were sitting around a table discussing some important matters, when Ternlye rose abruptly and strode out of the door. The remaining four exchanged glances and looked over to her questioningly, though they made no move to stop her." Atrus paused and raked his fingers through his wavy hair, meeting Zylesta’s eyes as he did so. She didn’t say a word, but looked very interested. He nodded, satisfied that she was listening, then continued.

"Ternlye’s body was found the next day. The storm had ended; the river had gone down. She lay on the shore, a look of sheer terror locked deep in her eyes, but the rest of her face was emotionless. The four others could not understand what would drive her to go so near the raging river – she was always a very intelligent woman, a strong mind as well as body."

It took time, but Ternlye’s death did pass, although thoughts of her lingered in their minds. What is Earth, Air, and Fire without Water? But, still they went on, not telling many of the loss for fear of worrying them.

"Soon afterwards, a horrible wind storm racked the castle. Large trees were uprooted, small tornadoes formed often. Ashlon became frustrated of the constant storms and informed the others he was going to take leave, and be back in a few days. The other three protested, but did back off after a small argument." Here Atrus paused and smiled sardonically. "I wonder if you can figure out what happens." He chuckled darkly, then went on. "Ashlon was found thrown against a tree, his clothing torn in shards. The same fear stricken look was plastered in his eyes, and as Ternlye the rest of his face showed no emotion. Naturally, the three reminded themselves to be wary – either these deaths were a coincidence or a powerful force – and they were rooting for the second one.

"Of course, when a forest fire - started because of a loose Phoenix – was heard of in the castle, they warned Nari not to meddle. The stubborn, adventurous spirit inside of her to do otherwise, that there were animals and creatures being destroyed. And Nari, being the youngest, always yearning to defy her elders, and made a fatal mistake. Her small body was found slumped against a boulder, her hair and clothing singed horribly.

"Keimara and Resyte were very depressed and quiet, staying together in the library most of the time." He paused again and studied her face, which was filled with rapt attention and awe. He guessed she had not heard many tales in her life, this was merely semi-interesting when compared to tales some bards spun. He smiled sadly; wishing this was one of those, and not the truth. "Are you ready to hear what happened to Resyte?" He queried. She tilted her head to the side, then nodded.

"Very well. Keimara and Resyte had looked over many ancient texts, attempting to discover what sort of power could be doing this. They reached several possible conclusions, unfortunately none of the texts being very specific.

"After a few days time of relentless searching and finding nothing, they’d given up. A mere three months after that, another sorcerer that was almost equal in power to them visited them. His name was Carynal.

"He told Resyte and Keimara he seeked instruction on some magicks, and being as distressed as the enchantress and sorcerer were, they were excited to take their minds off of the unpleasant deaths. He required some knowledge in the translation of old texts, something of which Resyte was very familiar with. Keimara left the two alone, for she was uneducated in that area.

"When she was gone, Carynal grabbed Resyte’s hair and yanked his head back, a loud crack producing from his neck as it was yanked out of position. He pulled a jeweled dagger out of his cloak; the stones red, green, blue, and yellow, symbolizing the elements. Resyte stared in horror at it as he saw the red, green, and yellow stones glow brightly, the green and black dull. He experienced a moment or realization, but before he could cry warning to Keimara, he was dead.

"Carynal sighed at the body, thinking of what a pity it was that he couldn’t have done away with Resyte in way of the Earth." Atrus stopped talking, yawning and raising his arms over his head. His musical voice hadn’t grown weary, though it seemed he had.

"And what happened to Keimara?" asked Zylesta, ruby eyes sparking as she watched him. Atrus chuckled and continued the story.

"Keimara came back to the room and found Resyte’s body. She sobbed for a moment, and then a loose piece of paper caught her eye. She bent down and picked it up, scanning it quickly. It read: ‘Meet me tomorrow, and perhaps you shall be saved.’ She crumpled the paper and held back a cry, tears leaking from her eyes. She blinked them away and realized she must defeat Carynal, for her friends – and her own – sake.

"She told few of where she was going and set out to find the sorcerer. No one is quite sure of what happened after that point – Carynal came back, and Keimara didn’t. She was not proclaimed dead or alive, but not found, either. Carynal began ruling over the lands. Many wars ensued, many races died out. One eve, when the fighting and battles were at their worst, Carynal was standing on a large circular pedestal, one that was around when the Five ruled. He was drawing power from an open hole in the ceiling. A sudden lightning bolt flashed quickly and struck him down, and when the dust cleared he was gone. In his place rested five babes, dressed in red green blue and yellow garments – and standing on the according elements. Shrieks and screams were heard throughout the castle, and guards snatched the babes up, a different one for each. They were never seen again. Queens and Kings ruled, not peacefully but far less fighting. The babes were spoken of, of course, but not very often. Perhaps a bard knocked the tale out of proportion, and they were heard of through small taverns. Besides that, no one knows of where they stand, who they are, what they look like." He stopped talking yet again and snapped his fingers. A tall glass of Elven Wyne appeared by his arm, which rested on the table. He brought it to his lips and quickly drank a good amount of it.

"You understand, Zylesta?" She nodded, showing she did. An ivory brow inclined towards her hairline. "Where are you going with this, M’lord?"

He grinned and leaned forward. There, he said in low tones: "I wish for you to find them, M’lady. The Five. They can be together . . . united."

Her mouth dropped open, face filling with frustration. "Why me? Why would you choose me to do this task? There are many more that would do much better . . . many who are better known. They’d be able to help you more then I."

"Aye, but Zylesta, you are one of them."

Now her expression changed to one of shock, then amazement. She managed to stutter out, "I am? You know? How? When . . . ?"

He chuckled. "You are. I do know. You were born with the talents. And you’re the Sorceress of Water, M’lady. Learn to use your powers, and find the rest. Now I must bid you a good eve, I must go." He stood up and bowed elegantly, despite the look of haste that clouded his eyes. He turned and strode out of the tavern, leaving Zylesta looking bewildered. She hasn’t seen the young elven man since, but continues to look for the other four, always wondering and waiting to see what power they’d possess together.