I am The Watcher. I am also Tykinil, Laponan, and Gurand, but I am known mostly as The Watcher. I have been silent all this time, letting Xotirra and Grant tell their story, but now is when I come into this story. I was exiled from my country little less than five years ago, at the age of thirteen, and since then I watch from my small castle for travelers and enemies. It’s not really a castle; in fact it’s just a stone tower with a small door in the back where I can get in and out.
My elf-self is called Tykinil. I live with my fellow elves in the forest behind Giuliao. We are not those little Christmas type elves that dress in red and green. Rather, we are warrior-elves, ferocious creatures that live and die by duty.
Gurand is my silent-self. I am human, but you will have trouble getting me to speak. I am mostly harmless, if you do not hurt my friends. For yes, I have friends. I am loyal to the point of death – and beyond, if that is where it takes me.
Laponan is my strange-self. I can do many things. I can shape-shift, I can assume the face of another. I can read your mind. I have no personality, no feelings, but I have virtues. I know the difference between good and evil, and I know to be honest.
My last self is The Watcher. I am the most jovial of my selves. I’m also the most talkative. I was exiled when I was thirteen for the crime of murder. In my country, to kill at all, even in self-defense, is against the law, and when my little sister was killed, and murderer escaped, I left home to find him. I found him and killed him after about a year, and came back expecting to be decorated for killing the man who had been terrorizing our country for years. Instead, I was exiled, sent away for the crime of avenging my sister Lanami. All this before I had even reached adulthood. After I was sent away, I traveled across the desert to Giuliao. I had the mark of exile on me, so they wouldn’t let me stay in town for more than a night, but they were infinitely friendlier than the people of Casyala, and they gave me a job as watchmen outside of town. Once a week someone brings me food and occasionally new clothes. Now that I have sufficiently introduced myself, I will tell you what I saw the day that Xotirra arrived.

The day was blazing hot, and I was irritated. My supplies were two days late already, and aside from being hungry, I wanted news. I was sick and tired of being out here in this blasted hot sand, with this blasted hot sun, with not a blasted soul to talk to. I was paid to watch, and that’s what I did, but I didn’t do it cheerfully, and if you had been there your ears would have been stinging.
Looking out to the cliffs on the far side of this desert, I thought I saw something, but I couldn’t be sure, that blasted sun was in my eyes. How do those of you who live in the desert prevent from going mad? I was certainly headed there. Grumpily, I left my castle and walked outside.
As I got closer, I saw that was a young boy, so young that he still wore his hair long. (In Giuliao the boys wear their hair long until the age of 13. It’s some sort of age-old custom here.) He was leaping off the ledges. I came closer until I was right at the foot of the cliff, but I still couldn’t see his face well. I was about to climb up and see how he was doing, until all of a sudden he came flying off and landed on the ground less than ten feet away from me. He lay on the ground unmoving with his face turned away for about ten seconds. At that point I realized that he was unconscious and I went over to try to revive him. But when I turned his head towards me, I realized that it was a girl!
At first, I couldn’t believe what I saw. What was a girl doing up here? Then my senses returned and I checked her pulse and breathing to see if she was still with us. I intended to ask her a great many questions, but obviously they would have to wait.
She wasn’t strictly beautiful, but her face was unusual, in a way, with a straight nose and small chin. Her hair was greasy and needed a wash, but would be a dark brown when it was cleaned. A thick, jagged scar struck across her right temple and touched down to her jawbone. I suppose that may have been the thing that made her seem unusual to me. Her cheekbones were so high that they made her look harsh, even while she was not awake.
There wasn’t anything I could do for now, so I sat to the side of her and leaned back in the shade.
After a while she started to stir a bit, and I shook her. She moaned and turned her head feverishly. I shook her again, and this time she opened her eyes, first blinking them a bit, and then opening them fully. Her eyes were green when they opened. Not just the lettuce-colored green that most green-eyed people have. No, these were forest green, with deep turquoise flecks. The kind of eyes that you find once every other lifetime. You could forget the harshness of the rest of face if you looked at them. There were things hiding behind them that were impossible to read.