The man looked behind him, and swore under his breath. They were still following him. He pushed himself to go faster, speeding out of the town, jumping over fences and running through fields. He cradled the small, weak child close to his chest. The babe began to cry, and the man whispered in his ear, trying desperately to shush him.

He knew the clan of elves was not far from here. If he could just get into their borders, the boy would be safe.

An arrow whizzed past his ear. He instinctively held the baby closer, and forced his weary body to work harder. They were closer now. They knew where he was trying to go.

The man gasped as an arrow met its target. The head of the arrow was visible through his chest. He coughed, spewing blood on the child, and still staggered forward. Just a few more steps. He managed to think, as another arrow buried itself in his shoulder.

He could see the border now. At the bottom of the ravine. The man stumbled down the slope growing weaker and weaker. As soon as he crossed the invisible line, he faltered. A young woman approached him and lifted the ill child. "Rest your weary soul." She whispered to the man, "You have brought him here. You have completed your task. You have done well." She reached down to kiss the dead man's forehead, and then brought the babe into the city.

"He is here!" she cried, "Armoraq, rightful prince of the elves, has come at last!"

Many elves approached her, to see the child, but they were disgusted with what they saw. The boy's hair was not white, his eyes were not silver, his ears were dull, and not tipped. He was weak with sickness. He was not even an elf.

"He is not our kin, my lady." An elf ventured softly, and the woman gave the elf a glare.

"I claim him!" She cried, "I, Alimist, queen of the elves, claim this child as my son!"

The elves watched in awe as a purple and silver wisp descended from the sky, the soul of a star, and danced around the babe. It filled the child, streaking his black hair with silver like a shaft of moonlight, changing his bright blue eyes to a light shade of purple, metallic lavender. The baby giggled and reached out to touch the wisp, but the star retreated, back to the sky.

"Now then," the queen whispered, and then repeated, "now then." The elves followed her as she approached the pool of the elves, which glowed softly, casting a blue light on the queen and her babe. Alimist reached down and touched the water with her free hand. The water responded to her touch, lapping up around her hand as a dog would to his master. Alimist cupped the glowing liquid in her hand, and poured it down the child's throat. The child became radiant with life, and his sickness vanished from him.

The elves gasped, and Alimist smiled. "Elves!" She cried once more. "This is my child! This is Armoraq! He will save us at our time of greatest need."

The elves bowed before her and the child. The wind whistled through the trees, sending calming scents and cooling the city. Alimist looked up at the moon and smiled. She knew she had done right. This boy had received the Blessing. He was the one.