Of Gods and Heroes: An Epic Adventure (Shattered Empire Book 4) by P.C. Darkcliff

Author:P.C. Darkcliff [Darkcliff, P.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2025-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

The next day, Al’Anark left the palace grounds to hunt in the Fawn Ridge, the largest forest in Garshahir. The woods sprawled over a high hill overlooking the city. There were hundreds of pine trees at that altitude, and although they were only twice his height, their smell reminded him of home.

As he walked through the forest, inhaling deeply the beautiful scent of sap, something began to tug at his mind. At first, he thought it was his worry about the troubled Eriana. Then he realized it was something else. There was another elf, not far away from him.

Al’Anark knew he should rejoice at the realization. Although Broose and Derrik had told him about the Elflands in the south, he had never seen an elf in Garshahir. He longed for his kin, for he often felt like an alien among humans, who always seemed to glare at his ear and tangled hair. So why had his fingers instinctively tightened around his bow?

In Aganopea, all elven tribes were united against the Darkside. Intertribal skirmishes were rare, and disputes were solved non-violently through tribunals. Everything could be different here, though. He sensed animosity coming from the other elf.

“Here you are!” a coarse male voice suddenly boomed behind him. “Traitor!”

Al’Anark spun around, ready for an attack. He was relieved to see an elf who had to be at least a few millennia old, with leathery skin and graying hair. His back was bent at a strange angle as if it had been broken and never healed properly. He leaned on a gnarled stick.

He did not wear a tunic like the elves in the North. His only garment was a fur loincloth, similar to those worn by dwarves. Or Daemorcs.

Al’Anark gave the ancient elf a quizzing look. “Don’t elven mothers here in the South teach their offspring not to shout in the woods, pal? And why would you call me a traitor?”

“Because you are one, pal!” the other elf snapped, raising a gnarled, accusing finger.

Al’Anark frowned in confusion. In the North, only the humans walking the Darkside were called traitors, and he had never even heard of elves joining the forces of the Darkside. “You will have to explain yourself.”

The other elf scowled. “Just look at you. Look at you hunting here in the woods that are surrounded by houses that are full of humans.” He spat the last word as if it burned his tongue.

Al’Anark sighed. This elf was a human-hating bigot. He knew that many elves were biased against humans, and some could have a good reason for it. He never understood it, though, and this elf seemed more bitter and intolerant than any other elf he had met. Besides…

“What about you, though?” Al’Anark asked. “Aren’t you standing right in front of me? In the middle of a forest that’s part of Garshahir?”

“I only came to take a look at you and tell you that I disapprove,” the ancient elf snapped. “Besides, I’d never set a foot in the imperial palace. And you dwell there! And you fraternize with a bunch of humans from the North!”

Al’Anark sighed.

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