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Freyskul

A ring of vapour as black as a sweep encircled Freyskul. It protected this dense woodland from uninvited guests. Freyskul, however, was more dead than alive; not a single spirit moved about in the shadows that obscured the view over the vast area.

There were massive, gnarled trees all over the place, but not much else: no bushes, no mountains, no hills. The blood-red sun glowed in the leaden sky, but darkness blanketed Freyskul as if the sunrays avoided the vapour on purpose.

Kiano watched in awe as the vapour swayed in the absence of the wind. It had its own life. How did he come here? He had been drowning just seconds before; the bubbling spring had turned crimson with his blood.

He even lost his senses at some point and gave up all attempts to make it back to the surface.

It was during these harrowing moments he regained consciousness and opened his eyes in this place. The dark elves took their sweet time letting him into their land; he could’ve dropped dead had they arrived only a second late!

There was a great fortress at the tail end of the woodland. He could see the flanking towers beyond the uprooted trees. He advanced through the denseness. There was no one around, but he knew that the dark elves were aware of him.

They probably observed him in their shadowy hideouts to make sure he had no ill intent. He could even feel their shallow breaths on his bare neck.

The lofty twin towers he had seen from afar penetrated the scudding clouds. There were no gatehouses, moats, or drawbridges here – only a steep perron with hundreds of steps. The perron was made of ashlar.

He looked over his shoulder and watched the serene woodland. The Elvish inmate sprung to his mind and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him. The fahltyrs were on his heels the last time he had seen the elf. What was he going to tell his people? He didn’t know and would probably never either.

A dark elf appeared at the top of the perron at that moment. She was dressed in black from head to toe. A cowl concealed her face, but he could tell she was female because of her small frame. The sides of the cowl exposed her locks, which were curled into sodden ringlets, as she descended.

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Two guards followed right behind her. Her visage was too beautiful for words. She, much like the inmate who helped him escape Lordôm, was tanned, yet she illuminated her surroundings in a mesmerising shadowy light.

He stumbled backwards as she reached the bottom of the perron and studied him with a persistent stare. There was a hint of distress in her eyes, concealed by the shade of the cowl. It looked like she hadn’t slept for several days and cried until her tears dried up.

Her raspy voice was deafening. She did not speak for the sake of it; she demanded he tell her how he found the spring and what had brought him here.

“What business has a sorcerer here?”

The inmate told him to come here and warn his people, yet he didn’t even know the name of the elf. There was never a time for small talk. The only thing he could rely on at this very moment were his distant memories and the words the elf told him to deliver to his people in Freyskul.

“I- I was told to come here by an elf, I don’t know his name, but he was a dark elf, I’m sure.”

“And why did he tell you to come here?”

She knows who it is, he thought as soon as she asked him this question.

“He… he said that the Queen has awakened, and he said I had to come here and tell you, his people, that the seal—”

“The seal is broken…?” She exchanged looks with the armed guards, who were just as puzzled by this sudden news. “Where’s the elf who told you this?”

“He—I don’t know. The last time I saw him was in the depths of Lordôm. I don’t think he—”

“How can I trust you?” she interjected. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Kiano averted her gaze. The crippling sight of the mythical dragon crossed his mind like a bolt out of the blue, and a surge of charring pain caused his ears to ring beyond control. He covered his ears and clenched his jaw as a heart-rending scream escaped from his chapped lips.

He collapsed as the ringing grew louder. His bloodshot eyes shifted from the hard ground to the dark elf, who met his harrowing stare.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

He tried to speak, but no words came out. The gripping dragon consumed him from the inside; its piercing eyes were all he could see before him. The pain, the ringing, and the morbid eyes only let up when the elf grabbed his pallid face.

Kiano slouched forward and gasped for air. He didn’t notice it, but the dark elves had come forth from their lairs and encircled them. He raised his eyes to the elf as a tear trickled down his cheek. His eyes dilated and grew wider.

“I- I saw it,” he began. “I saw… I saw the dragon, I—”

“The Queen…?” She shook him as he was about to faint. “Tell me, are you sure? Are you sure you saw her?”

But no words came out. It was as if the great dragon had drained him of blood and consumed his soul. Just like back then, back in the dungeon.

He passed out in her arms.