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Limits @ Infinity (The Immortals)

their Holy Tree would be corrupted by the Plague, as would the elves and all of the purity they
stood for.
For many days she had watched the children play. At first she hesitated, knowing their
inevitable fate and finding it cruel beyond measure to see such joy in their eyes of grey and white.
She tried not to think of the coming of the Dark Army, and that she must go, abandoning them to
such a hideous and untimely death. She still wasn’t sure if she possessed that kind of strength –
to simply leave them, knowing they were certain to die. But Anon had taught her well, and he
believed she was ready. She had to put her faith in him, and the Maker, and believe that good
would come. That one day the fallen would have their vengeance and peace would once more rule
the universe. To set that cycle in motion, she would do what she must.
In the beginning, she couldn’t bear to watch them, then it wasn’t long before she couldn’t
bear to look away. Such peace. It was something she had never known – never thought could
exist, not in the Age of Death. Up here in the Holy tree, there was only bliss. The Plague did not
exist. She knew it would come, but she too wanted to feel such peace, to forget about the Plague,
if for but a moment. And though she dared not partake in their games, just watching the elves left
her feeling content.
Then he came.
The children’s laughter grew to a fevered pitch with his arrival. Despite her training and
self-discipline, Alana found her own heart fluttering -- but for entirely different reasons. So regal,
yet humble as well, she had never witnessed a male like him. In many ways, he reminded her of
her brother, Gedron. Both men were Princes, powerful leaders that were imposing both physically
and magically. Her brother however, had been a cold warrior -- a brutal fighter and strategist who
proved his love and loyalty by the number of enemies lying dead at his feet. The Elf Prince was
altogether different; he was as strong as her brother, yet in entirely different ways. And unlike
Gedron, his love was his greatest strength, and he wasn’t afraid to put it on display. One look at
the man, and his kindness was plain to see. Alana couldn’t help but love the sight of it, in a
universe filled with death, she found the man’s ability to blend strength and love remarkable – his
broad shoulders and glowing waves of hair didn’t escape her notice either.
He moved through the Graelic so silently and fast, that even with Alana’s power, she hadn’t
sensed him until he was directly in front of her. There were times he seemed to vanish altogether;
despite her best efforts to find him. She prayed her own presence was equally undetectable to him,
but often she wondered if he knew she was there. Sometimes she swore – or maybe hoped – that
he was looking right at her, possibly even sent an arrogant wink her way. She disregarded the idea
as quickly as she could. If anything, it was a lapse in focus, a dream of a real life. To succeed
against the Plague, she had to eliminate the idea -- tear it from her mind. In the Age of Death, war
was the norm, the only real life was that of solitude and death.
She had been sent to save him, not fall in love with him. If he proved worthy, she would
extract him before the death of his world. Then, she would take him before the Conclave of Elders,
who would make him one of the Chosen.
The standard method to determine the Chosen was to witness their reaction during crisis –
as Anon had done for her. They would be forced to watch all that they love die. Some go mad,
others bloodthirsty. Only those who maintain love are saved from the Dark Army.
If he was worthy . . .
. . . he is worthy.
She had deemed it so in less than a day.