"With his spells, Sifahir would torture confessions of treason out of innocent elves, and wreak magical destruction upon villages that couldn't pay his cruel taxes. As time went on, his schemes grew ever darker. He began to whisper wicked plans of conquest in the queen's ear and to warn her of treacherous plots against her life concocted, so he said, by her closest friends and loved ones. He advised that she execute them all. Finally the queen realized his true evil. However, since it's against elven nature to take a life-even one as evil as Sifahir's-she exiled him to a small, barren island north of Evermeet."
The fire sent shadows dancing across Listle's face. Kern leaned forward to catch her soft words.
"The island Sifahir was exiled to was little more than a collection of jagged rocks jutting up above the waves," the elf went on. "Despite his might, Sifahir was condemned to stay in that desolate place. The Queen of the silver elves is not without powerful enchantments herself, and she cast a geas upon him. Should he ever set foot off his island, he would perish. But if she thought this meant he would never be able to work evil in the world again, then the good Queen was wrong."
Listle shook her head sadly. "Sifahir raised a dark tower, and from it he spun a magical web, its tendrils reaching farther and farther with every passing year. He could never hope to leave the island, but with his evil web he was able to draw others to him. The unlucky would find their boats pulled off course to Sifahir's island, their vessels crashing to splinters on the rocky shore, stranding them. Then, as his power expanded, he discovered ways to create evil servants that could venture forth into the world to retrieve objects for him-books of arcane lore, objects of magical power, and even… other people."
She gazed at Kern. "That is what attacked me in the glen. One of Sifahir's servants. I… I never imagined one of his creatures could travel so far from his island prison."
She shook her head and went on. "With his web and his conjured minions, Sifahir captured and enslaved countless elves. The weaponsmith, Primul, was one of them, and the elven mages, Brookwine and Winebrook, were two more. Most of Sifahir's prisoners died in the course of his terrible experiments, but a few were kept alive to serve him."
"Like you, Listle?" Trooper asked gently.
She laughed then, but it was a rueful laugh, so unusual coming from the typically buoyant elf.
"No, Trooper," she said sorrowfully. "That wasn't the case with me. You see, I didn't come to the island." Anguish shone in her silver eyes. "The island was where I first came to be."
Realization struck Kern, cold and terrible. "He… he created you, didn't he?" He could barely speak the words. "Sifahir conjured you, just like he did the creature in the glen." He shook his head. "But that means you're… you're a…"
She nodded, trembling. "An illusion, Kern. I began my existence as an illusion, conjured by Sifahir's magic to guard his treasure chamber."
Kern worked his jaw silently. What could he possibly say?
"But an illusion is simply an image," Trooper said with a bushy-eyebrowed scowl. "Illusions are nothing more than figments of the imagination. They cannot think, or act of their own free will. Or play practical jokes."
"No," Listle agreed, "they can't." She shivered, drawing closer to the fire. "I have only vague recollections of the time when I was created. More like dreams, really. I remember existing in Sifahir's treasure chamber. I would appear if intruders ventured within and use the magic Sifahir had granted me to confront them. There was never any conscious thought in my actions."
Her voice grew even more quiet, her gaze intent. "But then… then something happened. What caused it to happen, I don't think I'll ever know. Perhaps it was simply the aura of magic that pervaded the treasure chamber, radiated by all the artifacts it contained. Whatever the cause, one day I realized that I had become conscious. I was fully aware of what I was-no, of who I was-and what I was doing.
"At first it was simply a curious, wonderful sensation. But as time went on, my sense of self grew stronger. I began to feel pity for the people I was forced to use my magic on, then grief. Finally, I too came to understand Sifahir's true nature and knew that I could serve him no longer. I decided to escape. It was the first independent decision I ever made."
She touched her ruby pendant, its light dormant now. "As the guardian of Sifahir's treasure, I knew each item, down to the least coin. This necklace was one of his most prized possessions. It was forged by gnome illusionists long ago and enhanced his magic greatly. But he did not understand all of its secrets. I sensed that it had the power to grant me… life." She swallowed hard. "As long as I wore the necklace, my body would be no different than a living elf is."
"So you took the necklace and escaped from the tower," Miltiades said solemnly.
She nodded. "It was easy. Sifahir had never expected one of his own illusions to betray him. Since I could will myself to become insubstantial and pass through walls, I managed to free some of the prisoners-Primul and a few others locked in the dungeons. We fled through the tower's gates. That was where I discovered Winebrook and Brookwine. Their bodies were sunk deeply into the stone archway, where for years they had been forced to use their magic to strengthen the iron gate. I was able to reach into the stone and pull them free."
Her eyes grew distant "I remember that day so clearly. Primul picked up the two old mages as if they were thin sticks. They were so pale, so brittle. I didn't see how they could survive. We dashed through the gates and to the sea. Then I realized we had no way to escape the island. But somehow, despite their weakness, Brookwine and Winebrook sent forth a call, and a half-dozen dolphins lifted their heads above the waves. We dove into the water, and the dolphins bore us away from the island. By that point, bolts of green lightning were shooting from the tower's turrets. Too late, Sifahir had discovered our escape."
Listle's shoulders sagged. "The dolphins dropped us on the shores of Evermeet, and ever since we've all been fleeing from Sifahir's minions. He means to recapture us, and he wants me most of all." She fidgeted with her necklace. "It has been over three years since the last attack. I had started to think that maybe he had lost us forever. But I know now that I was wrong. Sifahir will never rest until he's regained the necklace and exacted his revenge."
"What will happen to you?" Kern found himself asking, almost against his will.
Listle stared at the others. "I'll become an illusion once again."
A silence descended on the small clearing. Kern tried to sort out all Listle had told him. The elf had always been unpredictable, but this-this was unfathomable. A dozen emotions clashed in his heart. Sorrow that Listle had known such anguish. Anger at the evil mage that dogged her footsteps. Fear that the elf might vanish in a puff of smoke at any moment. But most of all, he felt a profound confusion. Only a short while ago, after she had kissed him, he had seen Listle in a whole new light. Feelings he had never imagined before had stirred in his heart. But now he didn't know what to feel. How could he love someone who wasn't even real?
Listle stood, her jaw set, with deep sorrow in her eyes. "I'm sorry I've lied to you all for so long. I… I can understand if you want me to leave." She started to gather her things.
"Listle, do not-" Miltiades began, but he was interrupted by two brilliant sparks of light floating into the clearing. Both were a shimmering aquamarine, though one spark was slightly more green than blue, and the other slightly more blue than green. Abruptly the sparks flashed, and in their place stood two ancient, sweet-faced elves.