The announcement of Iris's score reverberated through the hall, creating an air of uncertainty. The elders, who had initially displayed stoic expressions, exchanged perplexed glances. It was highly unusual for an outsider, to possess a magical aura surpassing the high elven bloodlines.

Legolas, who had initially ordered their arrest and execution, was visibly taken aback. He ordered the tester to proceed with analyzing Eryndor and Lyrisa. The results were consistent; both scored around 60 out of 100, sending ripples of astonishment through the council chamber.

Legolas, after a moment of contemplation, addressed the trio, "You are to be taken back to your cell. The execution is canceled."

The hall was then cleared of all spectators and onlookers. Once the last elf left, the elders gathered in a private deliberation. Elara, with her keen insights into life forces, spoke up, "Their scores are unprecedented. Even the strongest among our bloodlines score between 30 and 40. How is it possible that these lesser elves have a magical aura of 60?"

Neriaeth, the nature mage, furrowed her brow in contemplation. "They mentioned a village we've never heard of. It's possible they come from a hidden enclave, one founded by a high elf ancestor, much like Silvanthorn."

Legolas, though still skeptical, acknowledged the possibility. "If what they say is true, and they hail from a village with a high elf lineage, it could explain their unusually high magical scores. We must proceed with caution and gather more information."

Lirelle, the keeper of arcane knowledge, added, "I will delve into our records and histories. If there are hidden villages founded by high elf ancestors, there might be clues in our archives."

Earendil, the illusionist, spoke for the first time since the testing. "Their arrival has stirred something unusual. Whether a hidden village exists or not, there is more to their story than we've been told. We should proceed with a thorough investigation."

"Yes, as Earendil said, their story sounds suspicious, and we must thoroughly investigate," Legolas declared. "Tomorrow, send out a scouting party to verify if such a village truly does exist. If they are found to be telling the truth, we'll need to discuss what to do with them. There are only three of them and five families."

Lirelle pointed out an aspect that hadn't been considered. "Iris and her companions are females, and only three of the five families have male heirs. There is no need for unnecessary arguments. Instead, those three females should be given as wives to the three male heirs, allowing them to produce a new generation with high scores. The two remaining families can then have the first pick of those children to marry into their bloodlines."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The suggestion hung in the air, a practical solution to potential complications arising from the arrival of Iris, Eryndor, and Lyrisa. Legolas, ever the pragmatic leader, contemplated the proposal. "It's a sensible course of action. If they are integrated into our society, it ensures a balance and offers a potential resolution to the issue of the declining magical scores of our descendants."

Neriaeth and Elara, who had initially shown compassion toward the outsiders, nodded in agreement. The others, understanding the need for harmony within Silvanthorn, also expressed their support.

Legolas made the final decree, "If the scouting party confirms the existence of their village, we shall proceed with this plan. Until then, let us await the return of our scouts and the resolution of this peculiar situation."

In the dimly lit detainment cell, Iris, Eryndor, and Lyrisa huddled together. The news of the council's decision to send a scouting party had unsettled them. While the idea of a hidden village was a fabrication, they knew they had to play their cards carefully to maintain their disguise.

Lyrisa, ever attuned to the whispers of nature, shared the insights she had gained during the council's deliberation. "The elders will be sending out a scouting party tomorrow to look for the village we mentioned. They seem convinced it might exist, and they're considering integrating us into their society if the scouts confirm it."

Iris sighed, her mind whirring with possibilities. "Well, that complicates things. We can't have them find a village that doesn't exist. We need to take control of the narrative."

Eryndor, leaning against the cell bars, pondered their predicament. "Maybe we can create an illusion of a village, just enough to fool their scouts. If they think it's real, we buy ourselves time."

Lyrisa shook her head. "No even with a lifelike illusion it will have no substance so it'll fail eventually. We just need to ensure they find evidence of a village once having existed so no need to get too worked up."

The trio considered Lyrisa's words, realizing the subtlety required in their plan. Iris, the pragmatic leader, nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're right. We can't sustain an illusion forever. Let's create traces of a village, remnants that suggest its existence in the past. Something that, when discovered, will confirm our story. I’ll go create some traces and burn the area to the ground because we were attacked by a dwarven army."

As the trio finalized their strategy, Lyrisa reached out to the plant life within the cell, ensuring they were truly alone. Now provided with the green light to initiate her teleportation. Iris closed her eyes, focusing on the earth beneath the prison cell. The ground responded to her intent, and in an instant, she vanished, leaving only a faint green shimmer in the air.

In the heart of a lush forest, Iris materialized. The moonlit canopy above her whispered with the secrets of the night. The air was pregnant with the fragrance of blossoms, providing a stark contrast to the confines of the elven prison. She took a moment to center herself, then reached out to her comrades through their telepathic link.

"I'm in the forest. I’ll find a suitable spot for the traces. Let's make it grand, convincing. We need to weave a story they won't question." In the forest clearing, Iris walked carefully, she found a spot near the edge of the woods, where the trees parted. The plants around her seemed to sway in anticipation, nature itself eager to participate in their ruse.

Iris then removed the bracelet artifact that sealed her power and gave her the form of an elf. Reaching out to the plant life, she shared her thoughts, imagining what the elven city had looked like but altering it to make it less grand but still have the elegant style.

The plants responded, tree roots and vines erupted from the ground and slowly began forming the city Iris imagined. She carefully manipulated the earth, creating subtle traces of foundations, the remnants of long-forgotten dwellings, and pathways now claimed by nature's reclamation.

As Iris finished her work, she initiated a controlled blaze, the flames from the red sigil she drew. The fire, carefully managed to avoid spreading beyond their designated area, consumed the created traces. The smoldering ruins of a fictional village became the evidence they needed to support their story.