Through Hell And Back: Christol

"Oi, wake up."

Christol awoke to being gently shaken. As he opened his eyes, he was looking at three pale elves, all shrouded in dark cloaks. Though at first menacing, they all had soft smiles on their faces.

"Heeah, get dressed, and get yah belongings. We got yah message."

Christol rubbed his eyes as a soft bag landed next to him on the bed. More of a knapsack than anything else, its size could hold three books at best. I must be dreaming. There's no way that someone received my message the night of.

"C'mon, then. Up and at 'em."

One of the pale elves reached down and helped Christol out of the bed, pulling him to his feet.

"Go on, now."

Christol grabbed the knapsack, and opened it, revealing a set of simple clothes. Christol became confused as he looked at the contents of the bag.

"What's this? Clothes? Why? I'm already wearing some."

The elf that tossed the bag leaned towards Christol.

"It's tah make sure ya actually get out of heeah. Those clothes have a different scent than ya. That way, no huntahs can track ya. Ya have no idea of the precautions Haldore takes heeah, do ya?"

Christol simply shrugged as he stuck his legs through the pants that were provided to him, the elves watching him.

"Well, we don't know exactly, but there's bound to be high security, especially if this is where Haldore lives, yeh?"

Christol nodded. 

Sounds about right. I mean, I wouldn't wanna be killed in my sleep. 

"Alright, Christol, grab whatever you need, and let's get the hell out of heeah. Someth'n's telling me he already knows weeah heeah."

Christol ran around the room, frantically shoving books into the bag, throwing his own clothes into it, and he stopped as he was about to shove another book into the bag. The title caught had caught his attention:

'Recollection of Haldore, from 1050 BNE to 250 BNE.'

Christol brushed the soft cover of the book, its red, velvety leather pleasing to touch. In the center of the book was a gemstone lodged in the center of the book. An amber color, and cloudy like Christol's mind. Curiosity eventually overcame him, and he opened the book, reading the words on the inside of the cover aloud, inadvertently.

"Herro lepsum till devoil. Magno fret ginmid fi stagn a."

Suddenly, Christol felt a warming sensation fill his body, before everything became very cold, like the bitterest winters of Halden. Christol closed his eyes as he felt himself moving, and he quickly became dizzy.

As he opened his eyes, he was now looking at what appeared to be a small village in a thick forest, the trees at least three times as tall as the buildings that sat under it. The buildings themselves all appeared to be somewhat similar in size, and material. About a foot taller than Christol, and about as big enough to hold a family of four. There were many of these buildings, all of which sat under the tall trees, and smoke rose out of every home's small chimney.

Each house appeared to be made out of wood, carved delicately and ornately, as each house was a piece of art in and of themselves. The windows, made of glass, with some stained colors, and others a typical clear. 

Christol looked down at his feet, but could not see them. He could tell, though, that he was standing on the ground. He stuck his arms out, and only saw his hands, an almost clear blue. As Christol looked around, the nighttime sky darkened by the treetops, he could make out a few voices nearby. Christol began to approach the voices, and as he drew near, their words became clear. The house felt warm, its faint glow an almost nostalgic feeling. A feminine voice spoke first.

"You'll be something someday. I-I know it. Someone great. Y-you'll end all of our suffering, and u-usher in an era of prosperity for us. F-for everyone. Heh. I know it." 

The voice was rough, as if the person had been coughing for weeks now, their throat scarred by the heaving. As Christol drew close enough to see the people behind the voices, he held his breath and peered through the glass.

In the room, was a frail, somewhat older elven woman who sat in a small, simple chair, with an adolescent elven male sitting on the ground in front of her, the room illuminated by the glow of the fireplace in the opposing corner. As Christol watched them, he realized he was looking at a family of dark elves, their ashen gray skin appearing colorless in the fire's light.

"S-study up, my child, so-so that you may become strong enough t-to protect those who cannot help themselves."

The male elf nodded in response.

"I-I will, mother. The name Haldore will bring tears of joy to everyone's eyes. And I vow to protect you. To protect Dad. And Millrir, and Torka, too. I'll protect you all."

The woman smiled gently, and a small tear ran down her cheek as she looked at her child.

"I know you will, my son." 

She opened her arms and took her son into them, into a warm embrace. She wept silently into her child's shoulder as he wept into hers.

As Christol blinked, he found himself tearing up. 

No, stop this. I will not sympathize with this evildoer. He has killed many. Most in cold blood, too. He has removed the happiness from his own people, and is using his power as a means to preserve this notion of 'peace.' I will not fall for these tricks.

As Christol wiped the tears from his eyes, the scene had changed, and before him was the same village, now on fire. The nighttime air was filled with smoke so thick the moonlight couldn't penetrate it. Screams came from every which direction, and bodies littered the ground, some still on fire. People were running frantically to and from, some holding screaming children, others trying desperately to put out the raging fire. Christol realized he had to do something. 

"Get out of here!" 

Christol could do nothing but watch as his voice went unheard, unnoticed, and the panicked people began to fall, catching flame and becoming prey to the vicious fire.

"Haldore! Millrir! Where are you?" 

A voice called from the burning building Christol had just watched a moment before.

Christol ran to the building, and saw an older, male dark elf on his knees, weeping. As Christol looked at the man, he could see why he was weeping. In his arms lay the burnt body of Haldore's mother, most likely this man's wife. He recognized her features from the vision he just saw, and in the woman's arms lay a much smaller, burnt body. 

The woman died trying to protect her child. Torka? It was the only name this man hadn't called out for. The poor child. These poor people. No one deserves to have their family ripped from them. Not in such a brutal and savage way. I… I would know. But not for Haldore. He should've burned here, then the people of Alteran might've been happier. I might still have my parents, and maybe Mitrax would've lived a happy life. Maybe Cruu wouldn't have had to leave his home. And maybe Flim would've become someone. Someone respectable. Now's not the time to dwell on that.

Christol watched as the man took the woman, her body still clutching the child, and placed them, together, in the corner of the burning house, before he stood and left, weeping all the while, still calling for his remaining children.

As he left the building, Christol watched as two dark elves emerged from the forest. Instantly, Christol knew one was Haldore, his features slightly less defined than they currently are, but the other female dark elf, Millrir, was unfamiliar to him. As they emerged, they ran towards their father and hugged him tightly.

"Your mother and youngest sibling have joined Allys and Tjornne, my children." 

The man's tears were still flowing, and he stumbled across his words as he held his children in front of their now crumbling home.

Haldore pulled away from his father, and Christol watched as he balled his fists.

"I'm going to fulfill Mom's wishes, Dad. I will bring peace to this land so that no one has to die. No one will have to go through what we have gone through." 

Haldore's father looked up at him, tears in his eyes, and gave him a sad look.

"No, Haldore. We need to focus on getting everyone who's lived out of here and to safety. Who knows if they'll return." 

Christol watched as Haldore's knuckles turned white.

"You don't understand! We just lost Mom and Torka!"

Haldore yelled at his father, and Haldore began to levitate, his tunic billowing dramatically. Christol watched as Haldore's face became contorted with anger.

"I'll kill the bastards who did this to us, then I'll bring peace to the entire world, you hear? I will bring an era of peace, and prosperity to the people. It's what they need!"

Haldore's father looked at him, his sad expression still being worn, and still holding on to Millrir.

"Is it what they want? Bringing peace by killing people?" 

Haldore's father asked gently, tears filling his eyes once more.

"It's what they deserve! They deserve peace, and I'll bring about peace any way I choose! The safest way, after all, is to remove the threat. Or were you lying when you told me that, dear father?" 

Haldore was rising higher and higher as he spoke. Haldore's father simply sighed and looked at the ground.

"Then do what is right, my son. If peace is what you're after, then do it calmly, and kill only those who must be killed, or the hammer of justice will be severe."

Haldore nodded arrogantly, then flew away, leaving Haldore's father and Millrir holding each other, weeping.

Christol looked at the two. Haldore's father simply picked up Millrir, and began to walk away, all the while rubbing the dark elf's back. As he walked, he spoke to her, grief in his voice.

"Your brother will lose his way. I will train you to stop him."

Christol blinked, and again, the scenery changed. Now, Christol was floating above a battlefield. Haldore's invincible fortress sat not too far from this scene, and mountains rested far off in the distance. The ground, sandy and yellow, was clear evidence of the deaths that happened here. 

Down below, he could see people fighting, some in blue and others in the Black Army's signature red and black. Bodies of both sides lay on the sand, most of them wearing the blue armor. It was clear who was going to win this battle.

A brilliant flash of light caught Christol's attention, and he turned towards it and saw Haldore fighting a younger elven man, with a complexion similar to Christol's. He could hear them yelling as spells were cast, deflected, and parried.

"You've lost your way, Haldore! Where is the peace you promised? I only see death and destruction. Look around you! You have killed even your own kin!" 

The older man cast a spell of red light, which Haldore grabbed and threw back at the man, who jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding being hit.

"You do not understand, Himrol! This battle is essential to maintain the peace of Alteran! After this battle, it will be over, and the promised peace will be everyone's to enjoy! These will be the final deaths Alteran will see! All I have to do is remove you. You are a threat to the peace. And I must remove you." 

Haldore pulled a cage of light around Himrol and encased him inside. Christol could see the man struggling inside, desperately trying to escape.

"And now, my master, you will die." 

Haldore closed the cage, and reduced it to the size of an apple, before dissipating the spell to reveal that Himrol had never been there all along.

Haldore clenched his fists, and unleashed a wave of light that killed every soldier, no matter the allegiance, in a large radius from Haldore.

"You coward! This will not end until one of us dies, you hear me!"

Haldore boomed his voice as he yelled, and Christol was sure that it could be heard for miles. The bloodied battlefield became very quiet, and Haldore disappeared before Christol could blink.

A moment later, Christol was now inside of the castle, next to an unaged Haldore, who was teaching a small Krim how to walk. A grown Percel was crouched a few steps from Haldore with his arms outstretched, ready to grab Krim when he took some steps towards him. Christol realized the only reason he knew who they were was because of Artuck's elaborate descriptions of them.

"Like this, Krim. One foot… in front of the other!"

Haldore said, as he imitated a baby step. Krim, who was watching, excitedly giggled and looked over to Percel, who was beaming.

"Thees way, bruv. You can do eht." 

Krim giggled and began to take a step towards Percel before he fell onto his butt. Haldore and Percel both chuckled at Krim's adorable attempt, and Krim giggled with them.

 Marll, who was standing off in the corner, walked over to the two, before he crouched down next to Krim.

"Watch me," he said as he helped little Krim to his feet to try again.

He held Krim's hand as he aided his first steps, and after Krim took three steps, Marll let go, and after looking back at Marll with a scared look, Krim took another three before falling into Percel's waiting arms.

"See? I told you," Marll said proudly.

The three of them cheered, and Christol could've sworn he saw a small grin on Marll's face for a moment.

So they really were a family. What a beautiful moment. Despite Haldore's evil actions, he really did care about these kids. Regardless, his actions have convinced me otherwise. I will not be swayed by this man. The child, on the other hand, is adorable. I wish I had been able to meet these guys.

As their cheers died down, Krim began to giggle and laugh.

"Again, again!" 

He said in a small voice. The three men all 'aww'd at the child's cute answer. Percel rested the child by Haldore's feet, who crouched down and gave Krim a piece of candy.

"Good job, Krim! You're doing so well! I'm very proud of you, my son." 

Krim ate the candy the moment it was plopped onto his hand, and smiled at Haldore. Krim then looked to Percel, who had returned to his spot, arms outstretched, and walked, though clumsily, all the way to him, before Percel scooped him up into his arms, and Haldore walked over to them.

"He'll be something great, you know that?" 

Percel looked over at Haldore, who was watching Krim, and smiled.

"He bettah, cuz he won't be adorable forevah." 

The two laughed and Krim clapped his small hands as he giggled.

Suddenly, Christol found himself gasping for air, and the vision faded. He was lying on the beach he had seen earlier before he threw the bottle, and he stood. There were the pale elves, all looking at Christol with disappointment. The cool nighttime air came to greet Christol, who immediately began shivering. Only then did he realize he was wet.

"Ya went unconscious, mate. We had tah drag ya heeah."

 Christol looked down and saw that he was still holding the book with the gemstone in it. Surprisingly, the book was dry as well as Christol's hands, which were clutching the book.

At least I still have this. I have a feeling there's more in this book. There's got to be more to this story. I've already learned so much.

"Well, Christol, yah comin?" 

The pale elf cocked his head, and the elves began to walk into the forest. Christol nodded and followed the elves into the woods, but Christol took one last glance at the massive castle, and as his eyes landed upon his room, he saw Haldore standing in the window, waving to him, a devilish grin plastered on his arrogant face…