Dining With An Elf

On this day, Kassian was particularly cautious. The memory of the harpy - its smile, its teeth - lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts. He stayed close to the river, avoiding deep forest paths or thick undergrowth. He'd seen enough predators to know the land could turn against him in a heartbeat.

During his quiet exploration along the bank, he discovered a patch of yellow clay where the stream merged with the broader river. It was soft underfoot, almost sticky, and he could smell the faint earthy tang it carried. A little farther along, tucked into the crevices of river-split rocks, he noticed strange mineral deposits. Sharp veins of glinting ore shimmered faintly under the light. Back on Earth, they might've been worth something - maybe even rare. But here? Just more shiny rocks. Unless he could learn to smelt them, their only value was the curiosity they stirred.

Kassian didn't linger on it. Not today.

He felt more satisfied just hanging around the river, letting the sound of flowing water calm his nerves. The blue, round fruits still grew abundantly nearby, and he popped one into his mouth every now and then, enjoying the sweet moisture they offered. There was no urgency. No need to hunt. No pressure to run.

The sun dipped slowly behind the trees, setting the bright forest aglow with fading gold. And though he'd done little today - no major discoveries, no revelations - Kassian didn't mind.

Sometimes surviving meant resting.

As twilight descended, the familiar hunger returned - not sharp, not desperate like before, but steady and expectant. He gathered his dried sticks and checked his pouch. The remaining half of his meat, preserved from the day before with the salty fruit's juice, was still intact.

Tonight, he'd feast again.

He began setting up his fire beneath the stone overhang, where the river's edge curved gently like an open arm welcoming him back.

It was already late by the time Kassian lit the fire. Night had descended quicker than he anticipated, and he found himself fumbling in the dark, his hands stiff with cold and haste. The flames crackled to life under the overhang, casting long shadows on the rocks behind him.

His hunger surged, but he forced himself to slow down when one of the meat strips blackened too fast, its edges curling with smoke. Carelessness could ruin everything. He adjusted the sticks, keeping them just close enough to roast without charring.

Then something strange caught his attention.

The forest had gone still.

No rustling leaves.

No distant insect hum.

Just the fire's gentle popand above, something new.

Faint streaks of silver light slipped silently through the canopy, like tiny comets or glowing fish swimming through the air. Kassian stood slowly, his eyes following the strange glimmers as they drifted downward, then vanished into the trees.

He stepped away from the fire, cautious but curious. His bare feet pressed into the cool soil as he emerged from the overhang and looked up through the thick branches overhead.

There - beyond the treetops - hung the moon.

A crescent.

But unlike anything he had seen before.

Back in the Oceanic City, the sky was a myth. The dome overhead filtered light artificially, mimicking day and night but hiding the stars, the sun, the cosmos. The sky above Earth had become a forgotten luxury.

But this…

This moon was breathtaking.

It hovered like a silent guardian above the forest, massive and close - its glowing edge sharp against the dark canvas of night. Pale blue mist coiled at its tips, and faint, arcane patterns rippled across its surface like living runes carved in light.

Kassian stared.

Frozen.

Transfixed.

His breath caught in his throat.

The silvery streaks continued to fall - subtle, graceful - some disappearing into the river, others drifting into the canopy like seeds. He couldn't look away.

Something ancient stirred in his chest. Not fear. Not hunger. Something… forgotten.

He reached out a hand, as if he could touch it.

It was beautiful.

But it was not Earth's moon. It was much bigger.

After a long, satisfying moment beneath the glow of the massive crescent moon, Kassian finally managed to pull his gaze away. The spell was broken - not completely, but enough for him to remember the fire, the food, and the reality of the world he was still trapped in.

He turned and began making his way back through the trees, feet brushing softly against fallen leaves and damp roots.

Then - he froze.

Halfway to his campfire, a noise reached his ears.

A faint rustle in the underbrush.

Not the wind.

Too slow. Too deliberate.

Kassian stiffened. His breath caught in his throat as he turned his head ever so slightly toward the sound, muscles tensed like coiled wires.

The leaves shifted again.

Something - or someone - was moving through the foliage.

And it was headed straight for him.

Thanks to the eerie enhancement of his vision in this world, Kassian could see in the dark almost too clearly. The shadows didn't hide details like they used to. Instead, the outlines of the trees glowed faintly in soft gradients, and there, between two trunks, a figure emerged.

Slow.

Steady.

Unmistakably humanoid.

The bushes parted gently around it as if the forest itself made way.

Kassian's heart pounded in his chest.

Run.

That was his instinct.

But his feet refused to move. His body stood frozen - caught between fight and flight, but leaning toward neither. It was like something unseen rooted him in place.

Not fear.

Something heavier.

Something more ancient.

He watched as the figure continued forward, one step at a time, and the firelight flickering in the behind him barely reached this far.

Whatever it was… it was coming.

And Kassian could do nothing but wait.

The figure drew closer, and Kassian finally saw her clearly as she stepped into a shaft of silvery light. His breath caught.

At first, he thought it was the harpy again.

But no. Not this time.

Not really.

This one was different - eerily still, yet unmistakably alive. He felt both awe and unease coil in his gut.

Two pointed ears rose through strands of dark-brown hair, braided tightly around her head and tied into a long, elegant ponytail that trailed nearly to her feet. The sheer length of it swayed like a tail behind her, impossibly neat.

She was beautiful.

Not just in a conventional way, but in a way that felt wrong to behold - otherworldly. Her caramel-toned skin shimmered under the moonlight like polished bronze, while her vibrant green eyes glowed with a faint inner light, catching every flicker of silver from the sky.

Kassian instinctively stiffened. For a moment, his mind screamed: Another harpy. If she had been naked, he might've believed it.

But she wasn't.

Not even close.

The woman was dressed - not in stitched rags or crudeness - but in something… ancient. Regal. Functional.

A pelt of fur draped over her shoulders, cloaking her neck and back like a hunter's mantle. Beneath it, sleek armor hugged her torso - a dark-green breastplate, smooth and matte, shaped perfectly to her form. At its center gleamed a single insignia: a leaf, stylized and etched with delicate vines.

There was power in it. Quiet. Heavy. Natural.

His gaze fell to her back, where a massive bow rested, strapped with confidence. The wood looked alive, curved in an elegant arch far longer than any he'd seen. It was big, intricate, and even taller than her. Kassian doubted whether she could even pull the string herself.

From her posture alone, he could tell: this was no scavenger, no beast, no winged horror.

This was a warrior.

And most likely - an elf. Something he'd seen in movies.

At her waist hung a curved dagger and a slender sword, both adorned with delicate engravings and inlaid designs that shimmered faintly under the moonlight - decorative, yet clearly functional.

Then, she stepped forward.

One long leg moved with quiet grace, and she parted her lips to speak. Her voice was soft, melodic - beautiful and strangely enticing, like wind through crystal chimes.

"A good time to sit under the stars, my kin," she said.

Kassian was stunned.

The words she spoke were undeniably alien - he'd never heard that language before. And yet… he understood her perfectly. As if her voice bypassed his ears and resonated somewhere deeper, somewhere more ancient.

And - 'my kin?' What did she mean by that? Did she mistake him for an elvenkind?

Before he could form a response, the elf spoke again, her tone calm and sure.

"I am Irindir, from the Vardanarii Tribe. Huntress of this edge."

Without hesitation, she strode toward the campfire and lowered herself beside it, sitting with fluid grace - as if this had always been her place.

Kassian stood frozen, staring at her, completely dumbfounded. Her movements carried no wariness, no caution that one would expect when meeting a stranger in the wilderness. But then again, she was armed to the teeth.

That massive bow on her back was taller than she was - intricately carved, bound in etched silver vines that glimmered faintly in the moonlight. A curved dagger and slender sword were strapped to her waist, both adorned with delicate patterns and gemstones that hummed with power. And her breastplate - formed of deep green plates shaped like interlocking leaves - seemed more alive than forged.

But it wasn't her weapons that made Kassian hesitate.

It was her presence.

There was something in the air around her - an aura, subtle but overwhelming. It wasn't oppressive like the monstrous eyeless creature he had encountered in the ruins - one who haunted him during his episodes back on Earth. No. This was different.

It felt natural. Like standing near an ancient tree or an untamed storm. Something wild. Old. And powerful.

And she was completely relaxed.

Of course she didn't see him as a threat.

To her, he was a harmless sapling.

Or worse - someone she mistook as one of her own.

Kassian clenched his fists, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline coursing through him. His instincts screamed at him to flee. To vanish into the trees. But his curiosity - and the flicker of something deeper - rooted him in place.

He took a breath.

Should he bolt?

Or… should he sit?

After a short hesitation, Kassian stepped forward and sat down across the fire from the elf - keeping the flickering flames as a cautious barrier between them.

He had been alone for more than a week now. No voices. No warmth. No human contact.

Company, even a strange one, was simply… irresistible.

Still, every instinct told him to tread carefully. This wasn't an ordinary encounter. Not in this world.

He kept his movements measured, his posture wary. He didn't try to do something suspicious. He didn't speak. Just sat. Quiet. Observing.

And then their eyes met.

Vibrant green - almost glowing beneath the silvery moonlight. Fierce. Piercing. Alive.

Those were eyes that had seen much of this world. Not just its beauty, but its cruelty. Its ancient truths. The kind of gaze that didn't simply look at someone - but through them.

She didn't flinch. Didn't break eye contact.

And suddenly… Kassian recognized that gaze.

His breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

The silent watcher.

The one who had stared at him from afar as he crossed the barren clearing between the corrupted and bright forests.

The one who had lingered on the edge of the trees while he roasted his meat the night before.

It was her all along.

She had been watching him.

Not as a predator.

Not quite as a friend.

But as something else entirely.

Something ancient.

Something curious.

---

'Why are you here, sitting with a stranger?' Kassian thought while poking at the fire with a stick, eyes flicking toward the elf.

The moment the thought surfaced, the wooden dagger on his waist pulsed - soft but distinct.

And then… his mouth moved.

He spoke the words aloud, his voice laced with the elven tongue - foreign and yet familiar. Fluid, melodic.

His eyes widened in alarm.

He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, snapping his gaze to the elf.

She turned her head slowly, vibrant green eyes narrowing - not with suspicion, but amusement.

"There's a saying in my tribe," she said, voice smooth, casual. "It's only polite to join someone's meal."

'That's a very strange way to greet a stranger,' he thought.

And again - his mouth betrayed him.

He muttered the words aloud, almost whispering, but still clear enough to hear.

The elf raised an eyebrow. "It's not strange. The Solarii often join us when we bring down prey. They share the kill with honor. The Lunarii, on the other hand, would rather steal it."

Kassian's brow twitched.

'Are you saying you could share with me… or just steal it if you wanted?'

The moment the thought formed - again - it left his lips.

He groaned and slapped his hand across his mouth for the third time, cheeks burning.

The elf's lips curled.

A smile.

Brief, fleeting.

Then it vanished, like mist under morning light.

"You're a strange one, elf-kin," she murmured.

With deliberate grace, the elf reached out toward the fire, selecting one of the roasted meats resting on a stick. She lifted it carefully, turned it once to inspect the seared flesh, then blew on it with a practiced, almost ritual motion.

She took a bite.

For a moment - just a moment - something flickered across her face. Surprise? Satisfaction? It vanished too quickly to name.

Then, without a word, she finished the rest in quick bites, efficient yet oddly ravenous. When she was done, she reached for one of the peeled blue fruits nearby. Holding it between her fingers, she muttered something under her breath - likely the name of the fruit in her tongue - and took a bite.

The familiarity struck Kassian.

It was exactly how he had eaten the night before.

The way she blew on the meat, the order of things, even the casual way she'd placed the fruit to her side.

It wasn't a coincidence.

She had been watching him. Closely. Studying him.

And now, she was mimicking everything.

A curious knot tightened in his chest - not fear, not quite discomfort, but something like awe mixed with disbelief.

An awkward chuckle escaped his lips.

He reached for his own stick of meat and took a bite, chewing slowly, his eyes constantly observing her.

The two finished the food in no time.

Irindir wasn't one for talking, and Kassian was too cautious to speak. So, they sat in silence, the fire crackling softly between them.

Then the elf tilted her head skyward, giving Kassian a perfect view of her sharp nose and thin lips, delicate yet proud.

She stared at the crescent moon overhead, bathed in its silvery glow. Something sparked in her green eyes as she whispered,

"The night of the Lunarii is coming, and the Astrarii will start singing."

Without another word, she rose.

She unfastened a piece of fur draped across her back and laid it on the ground beside the fire. Then, she unstrapped the curved dagger from her slender waist and placed it carefully on the fur.

With silent grace, she turned and stepped into the thick foliage behind their camp. Her form vanished into the shadows - into the place where the moonlight could no longer reach.

Kassian sat there, watching the leaves tremble where she'd gone, her words still lingering in the air like an echo.

"The night of the Lunarii is coming, and the Astrarii will start singing."

He whispered it aloud, testing the feel of the words.

And then he translated, letting the meaning sink in:

"The night of the Moon Elves is coming, and the Star Elves will start singing?"