The Underrealm of Aethera spanned the continent. Its entrances could be found sporadically throughout the landmass. This subterranean ecosystem was defined by both massive and diminutive caverns populated by monstrous creatures.

Few of the races that lived on the surface world considered the Underrealm home. Among those that did were the drow.

Hated by the peoples of the races, the soot-faced dark elves had long retreated from the lands of light. And the home they'd once found in the Dark Lands had been conquered by the Dark Lord in his rise to power.

What few of the drow were not killed or enslaved in the Dark Lands fled to relative safety with their brethren tribes in the Underrealm. In these dark caverns, a powerful witch practices her craft.

Facirri was not young by any measure. She'd long since raised a family and watched its members go their seperate ways. Dark elves were never known for their kinship.

She did miss her mate, a foolish man who'd died vainly defending the drow citadel of Zastras during the Dark Lord's war of conquest. But, her children were strangers to her. Their lives and deaths were of no concern to the woman who'd borne them.

Facirri was well past her middling years. But, as a dark elf, she had the beauty of her youth.

Still, beauty was a secondary concern for the drow.

Unlike their cousin races who were overly concerned with their fickle beauty, dark elves concerned themselves with power above all else.

Facirri had lived by this principle throughout her life and had achieved much more than her peers over the centuries.

As a witch of considerable power, she had formed a coven of her own.

Facirri watched a young drow male as he stirred a cauldron. Her gaze was critical. The young man had spoiled several batches of tonic already and Facirri was at the limits of her patience.

"Jeren, are you even trying? Any of your sisters could have mastered this recipe on the first attempt."

The young drow, Jeren, smiled a placating smile that hid his resentment.

"Of course, High Priestess. I will succeed this time."

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Facirri's lip curled, "This time is far too late. A single bad fruit can spoil the batch.

"Tell me, Jeren. Are you a bad fruit?"

The young man seethed as he continued to stir the pot.

"Of course not, High Priestess."

The woman looked at him with disdain and then looked away as if having lost interest in him. She walked away. Should he fail again, she'll consider banishing him from the coven. If he succeeds, it will merely forestall such an inevitability.

The High Priestess of the witches' coven observed the comings and goings of her lessers. For a time, supervising the organization had elicited pleasure in her. But, the longer she held her role, the more tedious it had become.

She wanted some adventure in her life.

The Underrealm was a dangerous place by every right. But, Facirri was no pushover.

And the caverns that spanned the continent held many mysteries, much treasure.

She'd idled too long with her coven. And now, she was regretting it.

"Soon," she told herself. Soon she would go on sabbatical.

She certainly wouldn't bestow the role of High Priestess on another after working so hard to cultivate this coven. But, she would take some much-earned time to journey throughout the Underrealm. She had heard whispers of many treasures hidden away in the depths. Many secrets that could expand her powers.

She needn't share these secrets with others.

"Soon," she repeated to herself.

With that, Facirri minded her duties and the days stretched into weeks and months.

"High Priestess," A female drow looked at her questioningly. "I do not see the logic of your actions."

Facirri's gaze was placid, "You don't need to. You only need know that I will return in my own time. Mind your fellows while I am away."

The woman beside her narrowed her eyes.

"How long should we wait? It does not serve the coven to be absent a High Priestess."

Facirri glared at the woman, "I have prepared you for my temporary," she emphasized the word, "absence. You will wait for my return."

The younger woman lets out a breath. "Of course, High Priestess."

Facirri nods and takes up her belongings before walking out of the witches' den.

Out in the unprotected caverns, the dark elf begins to walk. She has several relics she is intent on recovering, powerful artifacts that have been lost to the Underrealm over the ages.

Even one of the relics would be a boon to her magics. And she will have more than a few by the end of her journey.

She is unconcerned about the time she will spend away from the coven. Elves do not view time as the mortals do. Years might as well be weeks to a dark elf like Facirri.

She's cultivated her coven for a long time. It would sooner dissolve than raise another in her place. And should it dissolve in her absence it would be no great matter for her to rebuild it.

The drow woman continued her journey across the Underrealm with an almost imperceptible smile on her face. It was liberating to be away from fools.

As she walked a growl could be heard.

A wolf as black as the tunnels themselves jumped out at her.

Unhurriedly, Facirri waved her hand.

The feral beast's growl was replaced by a low croaking sound.

The once majestic wolf had transformed into a small toad.

While the creature was dazed and unfamiliar with its new body, Facirri casually walked up to it.

She raised her foot and brought it down on the little amphibian.

A contented smile took the drow woman's face as she nonchalantly walked onward into the depths of the Underrealm.