Chaos is never sought. It is merely acheived by the true nature of all things. It takes no god or goddess to impliment what is the essence of the universe.

Bahmat Rasou, Blood Lord

Under the silver light of Earoni's Eye, a contingent of elven soldiers escorted Sheala. They were dressed in uniforms that, while formal, maintained a functional nature should the need to act arise. She recognized the one to her left as the man Sayra had called Esse during their first encounter. None of the guards acknowledged her, staring only straight ahead as the procession carried on down the wide and well-worn path toward an awaiting feast. One where she was to be the guest of honor.

Reane, Brentai, Gregory, and Anthony accompanied Sheala, but remained separated and at a distance behind her.

At the end of the trail, a pair of twisted trees, each growing up on opposite sides, entwined their boughs overhead to form an arch. As Sheala passed through the awe-inspiring natural gateway, her jaw dropped. In the clearing before her towered an impossible to miss tree whose diameter was two hundred feet across, if not more. Its age had to be great, she assumed, her eyes drawn to oddities other than merely its size. Broad, blue-green leaves covered its branches. Blooming along each limb were violet flowers that fluoresced and cast everything in its vicinity aglow. Like a magnificent torch in the evening.

It was familiar, and something nagged her about the oddity of it. She knew she'd never seen this particular tree before. Still, it was like a long-forgotten dream fighting to come forward to her conscious mind and speak.

Under the outstretched and wide reaching branches, rested a long, table running perpendicular to the entrance Sheala now entered. The elves had fashioned it, like most other things in these lands, right from the trunk of a fallen tree. The top was level and smooth, but the sides still retained its course bark covering arcing from the surface and into the ground in a half circle. The width of it was nearly ten feet across and neatly arranged rows of chairs and torches mirrored its length in the grass on either side. Unlike many formal settings, there were no seats at either end and no place of honor at the head of the table.

Ushered by their silent escorts, they led Sheala to a seat exactly equidistance from each end. Esse, in a show of respect, pulled out the high-backed chair and bade her to sit. Which she did, catching up the folds of her dress in her hands and tucking them under her legs.

Everyone else, however, was given other places to sit, leaving Sheala alone. Brentai and Reane were placed about ten places to her left. Gregory was approximately the same distance to her right. But, when Anthony attempted to sit with him, he was politely nudged down toward the very far end of the table.

Though the thought of not having anyone she was comfortable around seated next to her played around in Sheala's mind. Her thoughts raced and her palms were a clammy mess. Her heart palpitated. Just keep breathing, she told herself silently. Keep breathing.

"Look at her," Brentai spoke, leaning in towards Reane's ear. "Why does she have to be so far from us?"

"Because she is more important than we are." Closely monitoring Sheala's outwardly visible reactions, Reane could tell her friend's nervous energy was at a boiling point. There was no need to probe her thoughts. She knew Sheala was good at pretending both properness and refinement when she had something to gain. But tonight would prove a test whether she could do so with genuine proficiency and not crack as she had during the Yule Festival on Fimmirra. Although Reane had had a hand in that, she would never dare tell her friend such. Best to leave that a secret.

Even though Reane spent some of her energy worrying about Sheala, she was more concerned with the tree before her in the clearing. She'd sensed nothing like it in her life and trees weren't supposed to exude what she felt now. It was as if it wasn't even there. And not not there like a normal tree would not be there in her thoughts. Rather, it seemed to be a hole in the world so deep and black that one could fall in to it and never be seen again.

"We're lucky to have been allowed to attend," Reane reminded her first mate, wanting a distraction. "Considering we have no station in the eyes of the elves? We're just part of the Child of the Storm's entourage."

"Friends of the guest of honor. Nothing like being invited to a party where you're not wanted." There was that snort one gave when being disgusted by something that accompanied his words. Brentai shook his head. "I hope she doesn't screw this up."

"Try to be happy for her," Reane asked of him. "Besides, there isn't anything for her to screw up. Her being here is merely a formality. After this is over she can go back to doing whatever she wants."

"Yeah, right. You know as well as I do that's not true." Then Brentai added, "Why did they put Anthony all the way by himself?"

"Don't know." She shrugged. "Supposedly each of the houses has their own places at the table. Since he's the only member of House Nador here, they probably sat him where they would traditionally be."

Brentai smiled. "Must be terrible for you here among a whole race of people whose minds you can't read."

"You don't know the half of it."

With her words fading to the wind, Brentai was about to ask another question but was interrupted by the rhythmic thrumming melody that began to beat as a faint whisper to the ears. The cadence approached from the west and an arch of two entwined trees that resembled those of the northern entrance. Reane further noticed there was another such entrance to the east with the same features.

Not long after the sound became noticable, a retinue of elves appeared at the western edge of the cleaning and prepared to enter. Led by an elven female rapping on the taut head of a drum, her sole purpose was only to announce the appearance of their hosts. Members of the House of Reyewa followed in what quickly escalated into a procession that was simultaneously both grand and simple, containing both the representatives of the House and servants intermixed. Each was dressed in the finest of clothes, but the contingent was subdued and stoic, taking no hurry to approach the table and their places.

Reane had only seen them from a distance, again, not being important enough to garner any formal introduction or recognition for herself since arriving here. When Anthony stood, so too did Reane, Brentai, and Gregory, each taking their cues from his actions. Reane had to shoot Sheala a mental reminder to do the same, the former thief more lost in her thoughts than paying attention to what was happening around her.

A stoic elf, his face a chiseled mask of many years was immediately behind the drummer. Whatever color his hair had once been was a mystery. It was now gray and appeared as the only outward sign of his age while red and blue robes hung off his shoulders and trailed him, the ends lifted by two attendants. His clothes were layered, yet still seemed light and unencumbering to him.

A noticeable gap was next in line.

Then followed the First Son, a younger man with his straight hair dropped to the shoulder. Reane had heard referred to by the name Ittan. He was silent in his father's wake, looking down and matching his father's pace with perfect precision so as never intrude upon what was easily recognizable as a place kept in somber remembrance of one who had passed and was no longer among them.

Then came the rest of the children, six more of varying ages. Although each were into adulthood.

All the members of house Reyewa took up their assigned places, spanning down the seats on the opposite side of the table and to Sheala's left while leaving an empty seat between the father and the First Son. The Lesser Houses as Anthony had called them, began to enter through the tree arch to the east.

Sheala noted none of them had a drummer to announce them. Each group that proceeded to join them was led by either the father or the mother while children and servants followed. Some groups were larger than others, but all entered with the same silent poise. Sheala had given up trying to keep the names of the Houses and the members of the Lead Family of each straight. Too many names. She figured she would just wing it as best as possible during the dinner despite spending a considerable effort attempting to learn who everyone was.

From what Anthony had said, none should speak or sit until all the Houses were assembled. Not that Sheala thought she could trust his knowledge of elven ways after the fiasco with the dietary requirements. Throughout the continual parade of elves, which seemed to take an eternity to pass, Sheala felt the eyes of the First Son upon her with a judging stare.

As each dinner guest claimed their appropriate places, there were fewer and fewer positions remaining to be filled. The largest voids were five seats to the right of the members of House Reyewa, six to Anthony's direct right, and ten across the table from him.

Once the last of the Lesser Houses arrived was when the members of the final House appeared in the westward entrance. Sheala easily spotted Sayra and her silvery hair behind the heads of her own family. Her mother, the Aval El'brim, what Sheala had learned meant Mother Most High and Exalted Speaker to Fairies, another 'loose translation' she supposed, sported the same silver mane and led the procession followed by her husband, a former First Son of House Reyewa. Before her, the Aval El'brim held an unlit box lantern whose ornate design spoke to its ceremonial nature.

An entire entourage of servants was with them and, once at the table, the Aval El'brim stood beside Ittan's father's to Sheala's right. Then Sayra's father next to her and finally Sayra and the remaining children each claimed the ramaining empty seats there with the First Daughter directly to her father's side. Still, none sat.

The Aval El'brim, passed the lantern to her left and Sayra's father took it. He inturn passed it to the First Daughter. She accepted it.

"Because," she began, "many of our guests do not speak our language, I request that all assembled here speak in the common tongue of the human's out of respect. Let us begin." The silver-haired elf sat the lantern down on the table, opening the door. She held out her hands and looked to the branches of the tree above. "Great Goddess Earoni," she spoke once more. "We have gathered here before the first and eldest Vessary Blossom. If it is your will that we should  commence this Gathering of Houses, please give us your blessing and allow this beacon to be alight with your approval." Arms now raised over her head she cupped her hands.

All continued their silent wait for whatever was to happen and with patience Sheala found difficult to match. The pomp associated with formal gatherings was something she realized she would never get used to.

Whether by actual divine intervention or by sheer luck, a single purple flower loosed itself from the branches above and drifted towards the ground. Miraculously, it landed precisely in Sayra's unmoving hands. She took it and placed the blossom within the lantern. As the door was closed, the slight luminance flared into a bright flame.

"The Fayna Roule has begun," she declared and sat.

All others followed, and Sheala was among the last to do so, still uncertain as to whether she was doing things in the right way.

One servant who had attended to the First Daughter retrieved the lantern and used it to light one of the torches nearby. He passed it to the next who did the same, and so on to another elf until each was lit.

"Today," Sayra's mother stood and spoke with a powerful voice, "we beacon a new future. I, Celeve Tynara, of the House of Tynara, welcome The Storm. She has come. As the Greater Goddess promised she would." She motioned towards Sheala who remained distant as the eyes of all at the table fell onto her. "And with the coming of the Storm, the remaining Children of Earoni shall be once more united against our common foe as the prophecies have declared. We must now focus our efforts on recovering the most sacred of all relics. Soon we will force the corrupt sovereign back from our borders and restore the third and final kingdom, the Kingdom of Hitithe, to glory."

She sat and Sayra then rose. "Mother, bless these, the Houses of each of your children, and bless each of our honored guests." She then motioned to each contingent at the table for recognition. "The House of Reyewa. The House of Tynara. The House of Tulna. The House of Weve. The House of Quilest. The House of Calonea. The House of Haniea. And we welcome the return of the House of Nador. Too, we ask your kindness descend on the lost House of Iilas." Now she motioned to the line of vacant chairs opposite Anthony. "May you guide them back to us."

The head of the House of Reyewa clapped once, and a small army of elven servants appeared bearing food of every type imaginable on large platters. Soon, the table was filled. Still others began setting the places before each guest. Even the vacant seats received a setting. Three glasses were filled for each guest: one with water, another with a juice, and the final with a red wine. Finally, each began filling every guest's plate with a generous sampling of all the food.

Sheala eyed the food as they placed it before her and was thankful. The long day and her nervousness had worked up her appetite, and she had eaten nothing this day at all. She could feel her stomach churn as her eyes looked to the steam rising from a slice of beef on her plate. She remembered how good it had tasted the first time she had partaken of it.

There were a thousand things running through Sheala's mind. How to act; how to speak. It was easy enough to fake, but this was for real and she suddenly was not so certain of her abilities. She felt the warmth of the medallion about her neck as it reacted to the one that Sayra wore. She still could not get used to the sensation, feeling confused as it repeatedly reminded her of her sister and times she would rather have forgotten completely.

Everyone began eating. Reaching for a fork, Sheala proceeded to impale the beef. But, as her hand moved, an explosion of blue mist erupted before her as claws slashed forth and a beaked maw snapped in her face...