Dellynthelaara woke up drenched in sweat, trying to calm her failing nerves. Her lustrous long hair, darker than the abyss, now lay tangled from her own turmoil during her sleep. Her eyes, dark pearls floating in milk, darted around like trapped swallows. Realising that she was back in her own regal chambers, she gingerly planted her feet on the carpeted floor. The familiar warmth of her private bedroom and the soft feet of the rock spider silk carpet brought her racing heart to momentary calmness.

She grabbed an exquisite shawl, worth a fortune in riches, and wrapped it around herself to add to her modesty. Surveying her room one last time, she quickly darted out of her sleeping chambers. She paced the winding corridors of her palace, still feeling apprehensive about her dream. The emptiness greeted her, and she embraced it like an old friend.

The inner sanctum of the queen of the dark elves was forbidden to many. Only a handful of selectively picked maids served as its skeleton crew. Baring three male elves, other uninvited entrances were rewarded with a quick death. Dellynthelaara preferred her solitude, or rather a place for her respite -- a secluded place away from prying eyes suited her fine. Besides, if the uncrowned queen of the dark elves needed private moments, none dared to question her.

She finally stopped at the great double doors that led to the grand staircase. She glided down the staircase and turned left toward the doorway to the banquet hall. Inside she found Myrtilla, the stewardess of her great house and Liala her handmaiden arranging her breakfast.

"My queen, you are early today," said Liala, giving a bow of reverence.

"Matriarch," said Myrtilla. No Queen, no further greetings.

Dellynthelaara met the old steward with a stone-melting glare. For a while, she suspected that the old stewardess might have developed an attitude by warming her mother's bed on lonely nights. After all, the young princess Rylonvirah was infamous for her debauched tryst with girls and women, irrespective of their class and status. That is, until, if the stories told were to hold a modicum of truth, a beggar girl knocked on the gates of their house one day, looking for alms. Rylonvirah's arrogant attempts at humiliating the girl took a rather unexpected turn when the girl humiliated Rylonvirah in return.

Casting another glance at the Stewardess, with her face permanently marred by a disapproving scowl, Dellynthelaara eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps, the old stewardess was born with an inability to smile.

"Liala, could you please fetch me Agaric Valerian tea?" asked Dellynthelaara, feeling her tension dissolve a little with her handmaid's pleasant smile.

Liala bowed in deference before leaving the hall.

Myrtilla gave Dellynthelaara an appraising look. "You had trouble sleeping."

Dellynthelaara ignored the probing remark. A queen will not be interrogated in her own castle.

"You are troubled by your dream again," said Myrtilla.

"My dream is nothing of your concern, Crone, " replied Dellynthelaara, her nostrils flaring.

The door slammed open and Altonarrak entered, his eyes set on the floor, his hands tied behind his back. Even in the presence of the most powerful dark elf, he was clad in coarse sackcloth. After casting a narrow glance at Myrtilla, he settled on a chair close to Dellynthelaara.

"You keep strange company, " sneered Myrtilla.

"He is," uttered Dellynthelaara with a sibilant hiss, "my champion."

"I meant the other one seeking your audience and won't take no for an answer."

"Myrtilla," said Dellynthelaara with a sharp tone of command. "I grow tired of your taunting tirades."

Myrtilla's face turned pale -- a colour that Dellynthelaara thought her stewardess was incapable of.

"A fae," responded Myrtilla, regaining her composure, "claims to be a professor from Vernal Equinox Academy and insists on your audience."

The uncrowned queen of the Dark elves gave a curt nod. "What did she say her name was?"

"Professor Vitalia."

Dellynthelaara gave a deep sigh, slightly annoyed about the intrusion of a new player into her well-crafted game.

Altonarrak dropped Dellynthelaara a quick glance. "Have you, perhaps, any dealings with the fae?"

Dellynthelaara shook her head. "Never, but I seem to attract all sorts of entities. I guess it goes with the territory of being an uncrowned queen." She paused, wanting to almost say more but held back.

Myrtilla felt the eyes of the young Matriarch bore down on her, eroding her will.

"Show her in," ordered Dellynthelaara, "if nothing comes, at least she would provide me with a well-needed distraction."

Liala placed the steaming brew in front of Dellynthelaara as soon as Myrtilla left. To the observant eyes of Dellynthelaara, it appeared as if Liala entered but waited for the old crone to leave.

"Liala, could you please set the table for one more esteemed guest."

"I will, my queen," replied the handmaiden. Once again she bowed her head in reverence to Dellynthelaara and in dread to Altonarrak before quickly disappearing, her footsteps echoing along the empty corridor.

Altonarrak leaned forward, abandoning all prompt and decorum in the solitude of the hall. "Delyn, are you sure you want to entertain this fae?"

Dellynthelaara lifted her gaze from her tea to her grandfather's face, surprised by the seriousness in his voice. She then took another sip from her tea and then looked scrutinizingly at her grandfather. "You have something on your mind, Grandpa." An endearment she only dared to utter in presence of none.

"Delyn, please remember your position," replied Altonarrak. "I am your grandfather, your only true protector. your ally. I only carry the best of your interest. Every action, every whisper I lose in the dark, is to protect you."

Dellynthelaara took another sip from her tea. "And for that, you have my gratitude Grandpa, but I am the Matriarch of House Aealaninth, and the future queen of Dark elves. Remember that. I heed your counsel but make my own choice."

The uncrowned queen of the Dark elves had a faraway look in her eyes, a look of contemplation, discouraging Altonarrak from trying to persuade her any further.

She has too much of Rillie in her, he sighed internally.

Vitalia slowly fluttered in, dressed in her transient dress, hair flowing in a wavy and yet complicated way. Ephemeral arcing winds, surrounding her, created a soft breeze to her immediate vicinity. She flowed closer to Dellynthelaara. Her lips curled into a smile. "Please allow me to introduce myself formally. I am Vitalia from Vernal Equinox Academy and, if you pardon me, for addressing you as Grand Matriarch Dellynthelaara, for you are not yet coronated, right?"

Dellynthelaara gave a slight nod, corners of her lips twitching yet controlled. Appraising Vitalia, with eyes that were like daggers -- cold and deadly, Dellynthelaara raised a single finger with the diamond-edged demeanour of a sovereign in her motion. Certain that she secured the silence of the fae, Dellynthelaara spoke, "I take it that you are the sort who wishes to have the last say in every argument?"

"An astute observation," replied Vitalia with a smile, "though only a few have observed it before, none dared to utter the truth so direct. I suppose the praises of your prowess are not a mere exaggeration."

"Am I supposed to take this as an intended compliment?" asked Dellynthelaara, her voice becoming sharp.

The fae felt her temper slowly rising, at Dellynthelaara's words. For once, she felt a sort of kinship with Rylonvirah despite her annoyance at the exiled Dark elf Matron. Is this how she felt every moment, of raising her stubborn daughter?

"I am neither presumptuous nor I am wrong," replied Vitalia, cold defiance unyielding in her words, "But if it eases you, even Magistra Rylonvirah felt the same but never made the boldness to utter her opinion directly."

The eyes of the uncrowned queen hawked a squint with the sharpened edge of steel, appeared on her eyes. "So..." she paused for a brief moment, collecting her words, "...the former exiled Matron is the one who sent you?"

"Please," said Vitalia with a genuine smile, warm winds billowing caressingly from her, "I am not gullible to be drafted into your mother's ploy."

"Mother!" A sharp hiss promising pain for the effrontery rose in Dellynthelaara's throat.

"She might be exiled, but an umbilical bond is rarely severed so easily." Vitalia's mouth twitched into a winning smirk. Hovering slightly above the queen, Vitalia met Dellynthelaara's piercing gaze, with a projected warm smile. "I say this not because I have any fondness for your mother, but as a mother myself."

"A mother, yes," said Dellynthelaara, eyes still trained on the fae, unblinking. "But not for a daughter." A sly, knowing smile curled the corner of Dellynthelaara's lips. "Son. Wait. Sons. Please, correct me if I am wrong in my inference."

"Your abilities eclipse that of your Mother's," conceded Vitalia. "Impressive to read me at such a short glance."

At those words, Dellynthelaara glowed with the unseen pride of victory.

"To your original question, No, I am not here representing the interest of your mother. My presence is merely to satisfy a curiosity of my own. An academic one, of course, and that is if you will grant me the honour."

"Please join us in breakfast, Professor Vitalia." Dellynthelaara gestured towards Altonarrak. "This is my..."

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"Please, even a book-bound academic like me knows when I am allowed in the presence of a living Legend. Lord Altonarrak, I am doubly humbled by your presence," said Vitalia.

Altonarrak gave a cordial smile of acknowledgement and then retreated to the comfort of silence.

"How may I be of assistance to your academic curiosity?" asked Dellynthelaara. "Perhaps, do you consider permission to enter our archives?"

"No," responded the fae, "Actually, my interest lies in the dark elf society and more importantly, your manner of internal governance. Though, my particular curiosity is your methods. On how you overthrew an existing system to place a new one in its stead."

"You are here to observe me?" asked Dellynthelaara, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"Well, we fae are not transient like most but we do concern ourselves with change. You could say, it interests us unendingly," replied Vitalia, "Even I am not immune to my nature. Change. Big cataclysmic changes always peck my attention and what you have achieved with the ruling council of Dark elves. If I were to stake my academic credentials on it, I wager is just the first of many changes you will impart."

"You speak as if you can see the future," taunted Dellynthelaara with contorted mirth.

"Again, no. Merely interpolation from aeons of observations," responded Vitalia, a smile playing on her lips. "But if I were to surmise, I feel like I might have intruded upon an unfortunate time. You seemed to have too much weighing on you."

It was Dellynthelaara's turn to be surprised by the fae's acute observation.

"If I may suggest, if the matter is not overtly sensitive or extremely personal, I could offer my view as an independent counsel," offered Vitalia, "My views might even bring a fresh perspective into your situations."

The young uncrowned queen of the dark elves lifted a brow at the fae, quick appraisal running behind her eyes. "Very well. The perspective of a fae might be interesting on this one."

With a swipe of her wrist, Vitalia commanded silence -- rather commanded the air around them to form a barrier against snooping ears.

"For a while, I have been plagued with a particular Nightmare," started Dellynthelaara, "It is always the same. There is a certain weapon, which speaks to me, or rather taunts me. The weapon, almost similar to Reminiscence and Celerim's Sentinel, yet far more potent."

"And?" coaxed Vitalia.

"When I grab it, its raw untamed power coursed through me, shredding my very being, mangling my essence, tearing through every memory and identity. I could feel emotions filling me. The weapon acknowledges my power but I am not meant to wield it."

"What nature of weapon is it?"

"An Urumi and that bothers me most. Urumi is a favoured weapon of hers."

"I take it that, someone like you would be well shielded against psychic and mental intrusions even during sleep, correct?"

Dellynthelaara nodded in agreement. She did not want to elaborate on her other turmoil during her dreams.

"Perhaps, is it your lingering fear for your mother given form during your sleep?" suggested Vitalia.

In the ironclad voice of a monarch, Dellynthelaara retorted, "I do not get to hold reins to power by accepting the easiest explanation to every mystery that poses itself. I analyse them, thoroughly. Then there is more. At one time, there was a Mage, a man, no a girl, I think."

At the last sentence, Vitalia's attention sharpened and she hovered conspiratorially close to Dellynthelaara. "Tell me about the mage. What made you believe that she is a mage? I take it that, someone like you is trained from birth to lead, to quickly analyse and appraise anyone you meet."

"Normal mortals, if they unwillingly stumble into another's dreamscape would brush it off and continue doing their thing and if a mage willfully enters, they wouldn't be so surprised. She was every bit surprised by my presence but not by her own presence in the strange place. I am certain she is a mage who is mysteriously tied to it, somehow."

"Since you are certain that she is a mage, just as how you gauged me in an instant, I presume, your training also allowed you to infer what sort of mage she is?"

"A planar Mage. Instead of reaching for runes, sigils, grand somatic gestures or reach for whatever measly contracts they made with spirits and demons, she, despite being rattled, still tried to analyse. Just analyse." Dellynthelaara finished with a sigh and turned toward Altonarrak, catching him glaring at her.

"Cyrene," uttered Vitalia cunningly eyeing the subtle twitch of muscles on Altonarrak.

"Is she someone I should know?" asked Dellynthelaara

"She is famous in certain circles as a planar mage, but outside the walls of Mages Collective and academic halls, her only saving grace is being Vangere's apprentice," answered Vitalia. "And she is also acquainted with your mother."

Altonarrak's eyes darkened, fingers trembling for the feel of Wraith. Yet summoning Wraith would mean alarming the cunning Dellynthelaara. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I suppose, do either of you know her current whereabouts then?" asked Dellynthelaara, watching Altonarrak from the corner of her eyes.

"Last I am aware of, your mother send her on some errand," replied Vitalia. "Some arbitration with the orcs at Manor of one of my former students, a brilliant High elf by the name Antilorwe. Surprisingly, had I not met you, I would have rated her brilliant mind as the finest I have ever seen. Now she will have to contend herself as the second."

"If she is indeed Vangere's apprentice, then should be as unpredictable as the old codger himself. I would say it is a fool's errand to track her," replied Altonarrak.

Dellynthelaara stood up, and adjusting the knots of her shawl, she spoke. "Professor Vitalia, I would inform the captain of guards to allow you free passage, but please refrain from entering the inner sanctum, though my court and official hall are open to you."

Leaning to Altonarrak, she place a gentle kiss on his cheeks, and not bothering to hide she added, "Grandpa, please show the good professor around. I will let you two alone. I am sure you are worried about the well-being of your daughter."

*****

Dellynthelaara strode out with suppressed emotions spilling out. She was angry, yet, strangely enough, her fury was directed towards herself.

How gullible was she to trust Altonarrak, just because he sired her mother!

She turned sharply at the corridor and pressed a scone to reveal open a secret entrance. Passing through, with a flick of her wrist, -- undaunted by any prying eyes watching her exposing her ability -- she commanded her angelic heritage to light the path before her. Scones, aligned along the wall, sprung into life, shedding a warm orange glow. She darted quickly along the narrow passage, till she reached a wide room.

A work table littered with piles of books and scrolls stood on one corner, while cupboards filled with documents and notes lined the other side. She quickly reached one cupboard and drew a report and read the contents that her spymistress forwarded. Apparently, her mother had adopted a girl. A half-elven girl -- as another daughter.

No! She replaced her.

Her mother replaced her with another daughter. Her mother, Rylonvirah never considered Delyn as a daughter. Of course, Rylonvirah, never had time to nurture her true essence. She never had the interest in nurturing her true essence. To her Delyn was, never a daughter with her own will and feelings, just an extension of her own self.

Delyn, the unloved daughter, had never known her mother's true face. It was always Matriarch Rylonvirah of House Aealaninth, who clad her in the finest of dresses, made her dine on a silver platter with golden cutlery, and -- shackled her to the gilded cage to satisfy her own ambitions. Never her mother.

And now that she is too imperfect and broken beyond any means of salvage, her mother had replaced her -- with a perfect daughter. One she could mould, twist and puppet as per her own vision.

Delyn felt her chest heaving, her eyes burning with hot tears. It had been a long time since she cried. A queen never cries. Never acknowledges vulnerability. Never tolerates weakness. But her's was not the usual tears of despair but tears of anger -- tears that her mother has never been there to wipe away. Had never bothered to wipe away.

Despite painful sobs wreaking through her trembling frame, she rummaged through more cupboards, dispersing the content haphazardly on the ground. Finally, she found two more missives. One detailing an attack by a tenebrous weaver, after a duel between two orcs and another, contained short information about a contingent of High elven paladins brutally slaughtered by a lone orc. One name stood out in both reports. Urganza!

She gleaned both the reports again, trying to follow the mysterious thread connecting them and came to simple staggering conclusions. The current orc overlord Urganza is allied with her mother -- not surprising since her mother had always been resourceful. Second, Urganza fought to protect a nameless high-elven Lady and a female mage against High elven paladins. Internal politics of High elves rarely interested her, but the reports of a mysterious lone dark elf interloping in the fight intrigued her.

Altonarrak!

He had been there. There is no other dark elf who could stand against someone who decimates a contingent of High elves. Perhaps, Savvas, her brother. But he would never rush in. Savvas is, indeed deadly with a rapier, but deadlier with his pistols. Yet, the deadliest is his tongue. He would have tried to parley, speak and talk through the conflict. Not rush in with blades drawn. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, Altonarrak who fought Urganza.

It stands to reason, the mage in the report is Cyrene herself. The mage could be anyone, but Altonarrak's active attempt to dissuade her from finding answers was all the answer she needed. Altonarrak was there.

And even he lied to her. Purposefully.

What is wrong with her family's blood? Even the vilest of the venomous beasts would not dare to devour their young ones. Yet, her family seemed to relish in cannibalism, worse than cannibalism. They tried to consume to own young ones for their nefarious needs.

Delyn allowed one more teardrop to fall, one more sob to ripple through her body, one wail to escape her soul and then the air of a monarch settled around her.

Her mother had tried to break her.

Her grandfather had tried to manipulate her.

She had enough. No more passive observation. She would strike. Retaliate.

She turned, tracing her way back through the passage. Halfway through, she turned another bend and continued to walk with determined steps forward.

Dellynthelaara knew what Rylonvirah would do next, upon defending High-Crag Pass. She would amass a bigger force and march, to reclaim her position. Her mother would destroy all she had painfully built -- not because it is flawed but because it does not conform to her view, to her grand vision. Dellynthelaara swore silently, not to let it happen.

Rylonvirah should not succeed in defending High-Crag Hold!

Dellynthelaara's mind raced, faster than a flash of lightning. She could already infer Cyrene's location. Even though the report was vague, apart from the definitive involvement of Angels and Grand Paladin Champion Zelaphiel suffering a humiliating defeat, filling the gaps in the report was never difficult for Dellynthelaara.

The planar mage could not have cast huge spells. To counter Angels, seeking demons was the optimal choice. A respected planar mage would have knowledge of the most prominent demon realms. She would not have willingly contracted realms like the scourge warren or the chained house, for those realms would have left consumed the soul, leaving their hapless victims a dried husk.

Cyrene would have contacted a realm where she would be worth alive and her soul tainted but still intact. The Domain of Opprobrium!

As her footsteps echoed through the empty passage, Dellynthelaara repeated the plan to herself.

High-Crag Hold should fall. The orc should not be allowed to assist Rylonvirah.

Urganza, the current overlord, has a vested interest in the Mage and she is held in the Domain of Opprobrium. Perhaps, She could buy the allegiance of the Orc Overlord. No. force the allegiance of the Orc Overlord.

As for the supposedly new sister, Dellynthelaara already worked out the solution.

A smile pried open Dellynthelaara's lips as she pushed a non-descriptive door open. Entering the dark damp space, she called forth her celestial granted powers to bring light.

Karlienne slowly took steps, coming into the glow of the light with straining eyes.

"My mother adopted your twin sister." Dellynthelaara paused to allow Karlienne's eyes to settle on the sudden brightness. "I do not intend to walk away while my mother destroys all that I have cherished."

Karlienne's eyes narrowed, glaring at Dellynthelaara.

"But what would you do?" asked Dellynthelaara. "Accept my offer. Build your mercantile empire with the gold bullions from my coffers. Become the will of a Queen. Be my arm. Be an extension of my presence."

Karlienne took a step closer to Dellynthelaara, eyes narrowed with determination. Her face was cold and hard, her eyes glinted and the fire in her nerves blazed brighter.

"What will you have me do? My Queen."

Dellynthelaara smiled and took another step towards Karliene and with extended arms wrapped her around, giving the half-elven girl a tight hug.

"I am certain my mother has something in her possession, a weapon, that could pose a severe threat. I need my mother to be relieved of it," explained Dellynthelaara.

"You have a plan?"

"But first, tell me about your twin sister. I need to know her weakness."