Since the beginning of time elves and their dark cousins had battled for supremacy. The unending feud between light and dark, sunlight and shadow, good and evil, touched every being. Families were torn apart, destroyed in battle, spite, and fear.

In the midst of this eternal conflict, two souls were born--Storm Grymreaver, a powerful warrior and mage, ebon-haired as all the dark children were. A man destined to be more than a servant to darkness. A man, born to darkness, to shadows, but destined for light.

And Rhayne Kerriann, an elven healer with golden hair and aqua eyes. She herself bore a personal grudge against the dark children, the ones responsible for slaughtering her family. A grudge she no longer wished to hold in the sight of a certain ebon-haired, storm-eyed youth.

Two, born on opposite sides, yet drawn to each other. Brought together by chance, Storm and Rhayne forged a new destiny for both their peoples. Of course, they had to admit they liked each other first...

In the shelter of a garden bower, Rhayne sat, hidden from prying eyes. The sweet song of a night flying nelari reached her ears, though the bird itself remained hidden. She sighed as the song continued.

"This is so frustrating," she murmured into the rose-scented air. "As it stands now, the only thing I want is wearing the face of an enemy. My only love, found in darkness. And if I had even the slightest inclination he felt similarly, I..." I would throw away everything. All my vows of vengeance. I love him...

In another part of the garden, Storm sat in shadows, trying vainly to reconcile his mind and soul.

Nothing. There is nothing here to love. Nothing I can change. If only...

"If only there were some magic, some spell I could work," he whispered in anguish. "Anything to let me be hers." He ran his fingers through hated, ebon hair, then stood and walked through the moonlit gardens. As he walked, his keen ears picked out the sound of a soft voice among the multitude of night voices. He crept forward with catlike grace, trying to remain unseen.

"Ayraeh, Rhayne murmured.

It’s Rhayne! Storm realized. He crept closer. What are you thinking, lyenaren? Speak, and let me know, I beg you.

"Storm Grymreaver, why must you be an enemy? Abandon darkness, throw away the title which is your birthright. Or, if that is impossible, for whatever reason, simply assure me of your feelings, and I will follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond."

Rhayne’s words startled Storm. Does she know I can hear her? Or is she merely voicing her thoughts into the silence? he wondered. And if that is the case, should I let her know I’m here?

"Your name is my enemy, nothing more. You are more than your name, your family. A name is easily changed; it is not part of you after all. Falcons would still hunt, and the sweet-voiced nelari would still sing, even if they were not called by those titles. Are you any different from the falcon? Even if you were not called by the name of Grymreaver, you would be no different from what you are now. Oh, Storm, take some other name! And in the place of what you leave behind, which isn’t really a part of you, take me instead."

Again surprised, Storm voiced his thoughts. "I’ll do as you say, milady. If you only say that you love me, my name will be changed, and you will never again hear it uttered."

"Who’s there?" Rhayne asked, slightly frightened. "Who spies on me, and listens to my musings? Answer me!"

"I do not answer, only because I know not how," Storm replied swiftly. "For I am afraid that my name is most distasteful to me, because it is the name of an enemy to you. If I could, I would destroy it, so you would never have to hear it said."

"I know your voice, though you haven’t spoken more than a few words. Are you not Storm, of dark clan Grymreaver?"

"I am not, if it is not to your liking," Storm said in a soft tone.

"How did you find me, and why were you searching? The gardens are extensive, and this bower is secluded. And you, if you are found here, will be slain. This part of the gardens is for those of the Kerriann house, and my kinsfolk, those who remain alive, are bitter towards your people."

"I was led here by fate’s gentle hand, for even the best hidden of bowers is known to her. And I can fade into the darkness with ease, so I am in no danger from your kinsfolk."

"Be that as it may," Rhayne said in concern, "if they should see you, none of your sweet words will keep them from striking you down where you stand."

"You are more dangerous to me than they, sweet Rhayne," Storm said, "for with a glance you can either protect or wound me. I pray, let your gaze be of protection, and I can never be harmed by any who may come."

"Take care, I would never want them to find you here. You are too precious to be lost now."

Storm felt his heart rise in elation. "Fear not. They cannot see me, unless I wish it. But, I would rather die at their hands, from their hate, than live, knowing you don’t love me." His voice was soft and sincere.

"And how did fate guide you here?" Rhayne asked.

"I asked, and she led. Even if you had been across the sea, I would have followed her guidance, for the gains far outweigh the possible losses." Storm walked into the bower, and knelt at Rhayne’s feet. "Milady, I am yours," he said with finality.