Forest of Elves: The Shadow Market

Everyone knew to avoid going into the forest that hugged the eastern side of our small town. Everyone heard the cries and growls and bellows that would echo from those strange woods. Everyone knew that to venture in was to invite death.Everyone.But it wasn’t one of those stories people would tell out of jest. It was no make-believe tale to keep children from running off. There were creatures in the woods.Dragons, unicorns, ghouls, dwarfs, werewolves, vampires and more.It wasn’t a bedtime story told to children. It was a warning.Go into the forest and you’ll die.No one in my town questioned it. Why would we? We saw the men that came from all around, who would trample into the woods in search of a prize. We had all seen the few who stumbled out broken and bleeding.And we had all seen the ones who came out victorious. And the real flesh and blood creatures they brought out with them.The Shadow Market was barely a blip on most people’s radar when I was little. We all knew about it, some had been to it even, but the people in my Village never paid much mind to it. After all, we had known about magical creatures long before anyone else, living next to The Forest all our lives.The Lords tolerated its existence because it was amusing, nothing more.My brothers and I were raised to respect the creatures of The Forest, not capture and control them.So, when Lord Caster showed up to the races with his first Kelpie hybrid we weren’t prepared. No horse could compete against it. It won every race, every trail.My father was shocked, devastated, and angry. Surely a magical creature couldn’t be allowed to race against normal horses. It was cheating, plain and simple.But the Lords that ruled all were amazed by Lord Caster’s creation. They saw it as a new era. A horse with all the magic and strength and speed of a Kelpie but controllable. And my father’s words fell on deaf ears.The first failure was a blow, but my father was determined to beat Lord Caster in next year’s races. Our horses went through an even stricter regiment of training. My father fired all of his workers but a select few and devoted all of his time and resources to our horses.Many argued that my father should venture into The Forest, find a Kelpie, and breed his own hybrid. But he refused.“We have to leave them be. They aren’t horses. They aren’t animals for us to raise and train.” He’d say every time it was mentioned.Our village had blossomed under the wealth my family provided but as that wealth dried up, so did the village.A lot of people left. Until there were only a few of us remaining, clinging to what once was.

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