Song of the Light Elves

Yolanda and I alighted on the light elf terrain:

Alien glimmers of the whitewashed, satin blue, finely featured elves, who towered over us in silken, slender forms, held out pearl gray mushrooms and glowing yellow fruits, circling us in a whirlwind as their crystal palaces and strange, arcane stone temples blurred as they fractaled.

The tribe of Ljossalfar splintered like ice.

Terrified, I looked up into Yola's arms. She put her plush eagle wings in a vice around me, the cinnamon and cloves of her skin darkening my vision. She cried out, as if a stabbing pain from the light of the dead - as the dark elves and light elves had spirits of the disir and alfar, our ancestors... transformed into something forbidden - was crushing her lungs and spine.

Her flesh grew hot, and we both screamed.

Suddenly, silence, and eldritch cold.

"Is this an initiation into the Land of the Dead, Helheim? Are we trespassing?"

I kept my eyes shut, shrouded by