-[Book #2: Prologue]-

Golden light fell between the marble pillars and filled the throne room with a heavenly bloom. Hjatorn sat upon his throne as he judged the deeds of his servants and issued his orders to the world he ruled over. The posture of the old elven king was regal and unburdened, like that of a crowning feather in the plume of a paradise bird. All throughout the day the sun remained looming high in the sky behind him—a permanent fixture of his power, it hung over his throne, blinding all who looked upon him. Petitioners and courtiers came and went; the king and the sun remained—eternal and divine.

There were no walls around to hide him from the elements; no roof overhead to keep the rain out. It seemed like the whims of nature were of no concern to the ruler of this world. A benevolent guardian, their sun shone upon the chosen people of his land and it shone bright. The absolute dominance of the holy element in their culture was reflected in the golden banners that hung from the pillars, adorned with the crest of the white sun. The king’s guards carried it on their shields and his people—in their hearts and prayers.

Hjatorn ruled over his domain from the top of a mountain peak, overlooking the green and bountiful fields, orchards and forest groves below. The elven cities and country villas were connected by a vast network of paved roads. Not a single humble dwelling could be seen. From the looks of it, the elves of this land lived in grand palaces that ran in rows along the streets as wide as rivers, filled with splendor and shimmering bright.

From his perch at the top of the world Hjatorn could watch over his domain and revel in its perfection. His people were clearly unhindered by the concerns of the lesser folk that infested their world. They had nothing to fear, for it was their gods alone that reigned supreme here. Their cities had no walls to protect them; the bridges and crossroads had no guard towers or forts to defend them. Shrouded in the holy light of their gods, the chosen people would never see the fall of night.

His realm seemed like a paradise in all but name. And yet, when the next petitioner approached the king, he came clad in armor.

The messenger tried to keep his posture straight as he drew closer to the throne, but the blinding light coming from the halo around Hjatorn’s head soon overwhelmed him. It was a mark of shame to shield one’s eyes when approaching the king—a sign of weakness among his people—so the young elven soldier forged ahead blindly, following a narrow strip of black slate pavement that led towards the throne. Having finally reached the steps of the throne, he fell down on his knees before the king and prostrated himself, as was required by their customs.

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The messenger then addressed the king in the manner demanded by his station. “Your Most Serene Highness, King Hjatorn, the merciful Father of the Denebi people, the Chosen Champion of the Celestials and the Speaker of their will,” he said as he pressed his forehead into the floor. “I come to deliver news of your most noble and merciful conquest of the vile people of the M’jagar mountains.”

Hjatorn’s posture did not shift. “You may rise, soldier,” he said. “Now, tell me of my victory.”

The messenger stood up only to find the light shining from the throne to be overwhelming. Still, he did his best not to stutter as he delivered his report. “Your Most Serene Highness, I bring word from Lord Commander Galerian,” he said. “As your Majesty ordained, the dwarves of M’jagar have been subjugated once and for all. No longer will they hinder our just and divine destiny to rule this world.

Hjatorn nodded. “Good.”

The messenger continued. “The Lord Commander bid me to inform your Highness that a hundred and forty thousand slaves have already been taken. The wealth and souls of our enemies shall feed the final victory in the war up north. Also, within the dwarven vaults a large cache of mana stone and arcane artifacts was discovered. Galerian believes that these items will allow for the completion of the Celestial avatars!”

The king seemed pleased by the messengers report. “Then rejoice, soldier!” Hjatorn commanded. “Go and spread the word of the coming dawn far and wide!

“Ride back to Galerian and tell him to burn the M’jagar holds; to scorch their lands and to bind their servants in chains. All of them. Leave nothing behind, for no one will ever need to return there.

“Let it be known that any new slaves taken or born under my merciful rule shall henceforth be brought directly to the Solar Sanctum,” he decreed. “Soon we shall no longer need to suffer their sinful existence. Their purification is at hand!”

The messenger’s expression blossomed as he listened to the proclamations of his king. As his heart and mind filled with joy he now found himself able to suffer through the blinding light. The world around him disappeared into a blur, but the shape of his king became more pronounced to the point where he could almost see his face.

“Yes, the coming of the Celestials is almost upon us, my children!” Hjatorn declared. “Soon a new sun will rise and cast this world in eternal light! By my will and their divine power not a single corner of this land will ever again fall under the wicked influence of night.

“Our ascension is finally within our reach. Let the lesser people rejoice, for they shall finally become worthy of our mercy. In joining with the Celestials they shall be purified of their imperfections. Once we have purged this one last sin, the Denebi will finally become whole. We will be made pure.”

Hjatorn’s voice shrunk to a whisper. “We will become the gods that we were meant to be…”