Reynold hesitated, his hand on the hilt of his sword as the shimmering barrier before them slowly opened. The door that formed within the starlit shield revealed a sight that took his breath away—a pathway that seemed to lead into the very heart of the night sky.

"Stay alert," Roland murmured, his voice steady as he sheathed his sword. "We’re about to meet the legendary Star Elves."

Reynold nodded, reluctantly sheathing his weapon as well. The two men exchanged a glance before stepping through the doorway. Almost immediately, they were greeted not with welcome, but with hostility.

"Stop right there!" A voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

Reynold's reflexes kicked in as he drew his sword just in time to deflect a blazing arrow. "Your Highness!" he called out, warning Roland as more arrows were nocked and aimed their way.

"Who are you, and how did you get here?" The voice belonged to an elf, his sky-blue hair flowing like water as he leveled a longbow at them. His pale skin shimmered under the ethereal light, and his expression was cold and wary.

Roland stepped forward, carefully studying the elf. "I am Roland, King of Lagrand, on the east bank of Long Lake," he said, his voice calm but firm. "We come in peace, to seek an audience with your king."

The elf did not lower his bow. "The King of Lagrand? How do you know the secret language that grants entry to this place?"

"My ancestors were once allied with your kind. We are here to rekindle that ancient bond," Roland said, subtly igniting the sacred flames that marked him as a paladin.

The elf narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the light that surrounded Roland. After a tense moment, he lowered his bow and signaled his companions to stand down. "Wait here. You will be escorted shortly."

As the elf sent a magical flare shooting into the sky, Reynold kept his hand near his sword, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of further danger.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Before long, another group of elves arrived, led by a figure that was starkly different from the rest. This one wore heavy plate armor, and the air around him seemed to ripple with power.

Reynold's grip tightened on his sword. "Dragon Knight," he whispered, recognizing the figure immediately. The title alone was enough to set him on edge, knowing that the man before them commanded the might of a dragon.

The armored elf stepped forward, his eyes sharp as they took in Roland and Reynold. "Why was the secret door opened? And who are these humans?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

Reynold instinctively placed himself between the elf and Roland, ready to defend his king. But Roland remained calm, meeting the dragon knight’s gaze with unflinching resolve.

"We seek an audience with your king," Roland said simply, his voice carrying the weight of his authority.

The elf’s eyes flickered with curiosity. "And who are you to demand such a thing?"

"Roland, King of Lagrand," he replied, his voice steady. "We come to seek your aid. Darkness has fallen upon the North, and all who dwell there are in grave danger."

The dragon knight, Peter Gros, studied Roland for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned and began leading them deeper into the elven sanctuary. "Come," he said over his shoulder. "The king will decide your fate."

They passed through a series of elegant tree houses, their warmth in stark contrast to the cold demeanor of their inhabitants. Eventually, they reached a grand palace, its architecture a blend of natural beauty and elven craftsmanship. At its heart sat a slender figure on a throne adorned with countless gemstones, his demeanor one of weary regality.

"Your Majesty," Peter Gros said, bowing slightly as they entered. "These humans seek an audience."

The elf king, Novia, raised an eyebrow as he regarded the newcomers. "Humans, in our sacred land? What is it you seek?"

Roland stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Your Majesty, darkness has overtaken the North. Dwarves, elves, and humans alike are threatened by this encroaching evil. We have come to ask for your aid in this dire time."

Novia’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, placing his wine glass down. "The Star Elves have remained hidden for thousands of years, far from the conflicts of the world. Why should we break that seclusion now?"

Roland met the king’s gaze, his expression earnest. "Because if the North falls, your people will not be spared. The forces of Sauron will find you eventually, no matter how deep you hide."

A tense silence filled the room as Novia considered Roland’s words. "The Star Elves have sacrificed much in the past. We bled and died for a world that ultimately betrayed us. Why should we fight again, when we’ve found peace?"

"Because peace is fleeting when darkness looms," Roland replied. "I understand the pain of betrayal, but turning your back on the world will not save you when the enemy comes to your door."

Novia sighed deeply, his weariness evident. "You speak truth, but our strength has waned. We are not the warriors we once were."

Roland’s voice softened, understanding the weight of the king’s burden. "Even so, your presence on the battlefield could turn the tide. The Star Elves are the last hope for many who still fight against the dark. Without you, the North may be lost."

Novia’s gaze fell to the floor as he pondered the grim reality laid before him. Finally, he looked up, meeting Roland’s eyes with a somber determination. "I will consider your request, King Roland. But know this—if we choose to fight, it will be our last stand. We will not retreat again."

Roland nodded, understanding the gravity of the decision. "That is all we can ask, Your Majesty. Thank you."

With a final, solemn nod, Novia dismissed them, leaving Roland and Reynold to reflect on the uncertain future that lay ahead.