The Stonemen

I stared down at my reflection in the crystal clear water. My chestnut brown hair that had never been cut since I was born was laying delicately on my face. It wasn't very long, only enough to cover my eyebrows a bit. I looked around at the place where I sat, watching the jade leaves dancing down from the trees. It was afternoon, about to be seven o'clock, the wind was blowing from the east, and gently flew past me to the west where it hit the ocean.

I knew all of this because I'm an Elf. Nature and its properties come to me as easy as breathing. It was inherited by my race from our creator, the goddess Illyfue, daughter of Dyos. Illyfue created all the animals in the world, along with the humans and elves. She made the humans as a gift to
The Humans seemed to be the most adaptable race in the world. They lived within the Sanctuary, with permission from the elders, in the mysterious homeland of the Stonemen, and far away on their home continent.

The Stonemen always seemed to evade me. I never heard many stories about them when I was a child, unlike the dozens of stories that I heard about the heroic and courageous human and the divine and mystic tales of the Elven people. They were made of pure rock and minerals. Bodies so huge that they would tower over the Humans and Elves. Gaze fierce and strength incomprehendible. Yet, despite all of this, they were all gentle and peace-loving.

I moved my finger slightly, feeling the damp ground under me. It felt rich and soft. I moved my fingers even further, and they bumped into something hard. I looked down and saw the harp that always appears in my dreams. I picked it up, sliding my finger down the smooth wooden column. It was brown, like the deep color of the trees, with small engravings running down the neck. The Engravings on the harp were always the same but blurred out so much that you couldn't read
The water in front of me gurgled and began to float, tiny droplets rising up one by one. I plucked another string, and the droplets danced through the air, collecting themselves into one bubble of water.

The clear bubble floated there, waiting for my command. Waiting for another pluck of the strings to send it into motion. I simply sighed and placed the harp down onto my lap. The bubble dispersed into droplets and danced back down into the water.

I dislike using my magic, even in my dreams. It is what makes me different, what separates us from them, what makes me what I am and will always