The stars shone brightly across the pitch-black sky when Godric had finally arrived at the Whiteflower. The rain poured throughout the afternoon, leaving him and the steed in a cold, wet mess. Gillsberry was quiet as usual, and the lively inn was uncharacteristically silent. Shadows passed in the dimly lit windows, indicating signs of activity.
The young man first settled Cloud underneath the warm lodging of the stables, then slowly walked toward the inn with the flower in one hand and Evander's spear in the other. He swung open the wooden door to find that the entire inn was almost completely abandoned, save for a few drunk people who slept beside the fireplace and the bard, who found solace by resting his head in a vacant rocking chair.
He slowly headed to the old man's quarters and saw him sleeping in his bed. He was surrounded by a few of Evander's fellow hunters who had tended to his needs. Godric was careful not to wake them up as he approached the old man. He slowly opened his clothing to inspect the damage using his mana-imbued vision and there it was, centered in the middle of his leg, was a small, pointed spike embedded between muscle and bone. He carefully inspected the scar and noticed that the old man's mana was concentrated on stopping the decay from progressing even further--he hated himself for not being able to spot this the first time they had met.
The young man was greatly impressed by how Evander's father stayed alive for this long. Based on his training, Godric concluded that he concentrated his mana onto the wound, effectively stopping the sickness from spreading. Sacrificing the usage of mana to prolong his life was a risk, but it showed his mastery and will to live. Hearing his story from Evander also made Godric understand his principles in life--realizing everything he had gone through, his respect for the old man was raised to even greater heights.
Godric placed the flower on his hand, hoping it would cure him. He could see that the old man's breathing slowed down and steadied as he noticed a smile spread across his face, almost as if he was reliving a dream that he had long forgotten.
Godric went out of the room and placed two coins on the counter. He was exhausted. His body needed rest. He needed time to collect his thoughts, and his emotions were unstable. He had still yet to come to terms with the loss of his friend, and so the young man hoped that a good night's sleep would do the work. Godric headed up the staircase toward the inn's second floor and made his way to the edge of the wooden hallway where his room was.
He peeked inside the room before his own, hoping that Coraline was looking after the wounded man, but neither of the two were present. Godric sighed and unlocked his room. With no time wasted, he fell flat on the bed moments after closing the door. He was simply tired of everything and merely wanted to escape the problems that haunted him.
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Hours passed, and Godric had woken up, feeling well rested. The sun never shone through the window, as the rain from last night continued to pour heavily. He fixed himself up as he was preparing to head back to Mistveil Forest to return the relic of the elves. He stepped outside his room and headed down the stairs, only to find several hunters and the bard huddled near the fireplace.
"My friends from far and wide," the bard said as he stood atop a pedestal. "I may not be of these lands, but I have heard your tales. One of you has died in pursuit of the great hunt, for the skies above have yet to reveal their grace and cease their tears from falling. The Divine Mother herself weeps for a kindred soul. At this time, may I ask kindly of all those present, that we bow down our heads in silence."
The room was covered in a veil of tranquility, broken by the singing of a female hunter. Her voice was haunting, yet pleasing to the ears. The words uttered were foreign, but the message was clear enough for Godric to understand.
A good while passed, and everyone returned to their tables. Godric looked at how every one of them presented themselves and concluded that the Great Hunt was about to begin once again. Many were excited, and some veteran hunters walked around advising those new to the tradition.
Godric walked toward the old man's room and noticed it was closed. He knocked on the door and a voice responded in return. "Come in!" It said. Before doing so, he hid the spear underneath the bar counter. Godric opened the door to find the old man, all suited up in his armor. "Oh, it's you! How nice of you to stay for another night lad!" The old man said as he looked at the mirror. "I'm surprised this still fits me. Hahahaha!" He laughed.
"Listen, lad, I don't know why but I feel better than ever. Yesterday, I felt like I was near death's door, but now I feel as if I were reborn." He continued, all giddy. "The hunt will begin as soon as the rain stops, and the warm embrace of daylight greets us."
"That's nice to know," Godric responded. "So, it seems that you're finally able to ride out once again," he continued as he faked a smile.
"Aye, hopefully, I still know how to swing a sword. I aim to make the best of this hunt, for this shall be my last. Won't you be joining us?" The old man asked. "I'm afraid not, old man. I still have somewhere else to be--I bid you all a happy hunting, though."
"Petyr," the old man spoke out of the blue, confusing Godric. "I'm sorry?" He replied.
"You can call me Petyr. I no longer feel like an old man, so there's no need to call me that way. Also, may the Divines bless you and the roads you will travel." Petyr remarked. Godric responded with a nod of respect and quietly left the room, leaving the oblivious noble of House Huntingborne to his lonesome.
Godric picked up the spear from underneath the bar counter. He checked his leather satchel to see if the necklace was still there, which it was. With no wasted motion, he headed toward the exit and out where the heavy rain greeted him. Godric walked on the slippery, cobblestone path and headed south where Mistveil Forest was. He never looked back as he covered his face with his elven cloak.
"Do you plan on leaving without even saying goodbye?" A voice cut through the rainfall. Godric turned and saw Coraline, her golden hair and red dress all soaked.
"Sorry about that," Godric responded with a tinge of guilt. "I thought I had slipped through everyone's attention unnoticed."
"Well, you did manage to fool everyone except me," Coraline said as she approached Godric. "It was you, wasn't it?" She questioned him.
"What do you mean by that?" He responded. "Don't play dumb with me, Godric of Rosetown. You lied to me, you idiot. You went to the caverns and found the cure. I returned home to fetch a few things and went inside the old man's room to find a flower. I wondered who put it there, so I went to the stables and immediately found Cloud. From that point on I already knew it was you. I then tried to enter your room but found the door locked." She explained as she got close to his face.
"I traveled to Rosetown and bought the things you asked for the old man but every hour I spent helping him, I had a bad feeling building up inside me," Coraline continued as she broke into tears. "I was worried sick! The gold you provided was more than enough--I thought you were a blessing sent to at least help ease the old man's last days and here I was, a simple, dumb girl, thinking that I sent you to die!" She slapped Godric hard, then buried her face on his chest, weeping.
Coraline struck Godric's armor repeatedly to the point where each hit sounded painful. The young man then stopped her from harming herself further and held her tight in a warm embrace, making sure that his cloak would cover her head as well from the downpour.
"I'm sorry," Godric whispered after a long period of silence. "It was my burden to bear. I didn't want you to worry about me, so I lied. The things we saw there...no one should never go through what we had to endure."
"W-we?" Coraline asked, confused. "Evander. He was alive, Coraline. We took down the monster that held the flower. In the end, he sacrificed his life just so I could be here. He's the reason why I still breathe." Godric responded, defeated. He wanted to curse, cry, and simply be angry at the world--but he could not bring himself to do anything. He was simply tired.
Coraline was left stunned at the revelation. She looked at the weapon in Godric's hand and came to realize that the spear belonged to the former head of House Huntingborne.
"D-does the old man...?" She asked.
"No. I spared him from the truth. It was a painful choice, and I thought about it for a long time but eventually went against the idea. No parent should ever live long enough to mourn for their children. He already accepted his death long ago, and I couldn't bring myself to let him experience the same feeling again." Godric responded.
"I-I see... what happens now?" Coraline stepped back and looked at Godric.
"I have to go south. My task is not yet done. Others still wait for me. The longer I stay here, the longer I put myself and everyone else at risk." He responded vaguely, being careful to not reveal more about his true mission.
"...You do know that you have the choice to not go back," Coraline responded as her face turned a shade of red, hidden underneath the rain.
"What?" Godric stopped and stared at her, confused at what she said.
"I said you don't have to force yourself into doing this--risking your life because other people tell you that you should. Being out here already means you're free from their hold," Coraline said. "Remember that you're not bound to anyone's whims or orders. I can see that you're a free-spirited person Godric--and a kind-hearted one at that, too, but I see you're shackled. You can never find happiness by pleasing everyone all the time." This left the young man at a loss for words.
"...You can stay here instead, or find sanctuary in Stagvalley. House Huntingborne is known for--"
"I'm sorry, Coraline." Godric cut her off. "I truly am sorry. However, I owe these people my life. I have to do this, or else I'll never be able to live with myself." Coraline bowed her head down in embarrassment. "I-I see..." she replied as she slowly stepped away from Godric. "Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you." She then began to turn toward the inn.
Before she could make another step, Godric approached her and held her tight. No words were spoken, and they allowed the rain to pour down their heads.
"Thank you, Coraline Applewood," Godric whispered as he touched her face. "I'll come back from time to time, I promise. Try not to be a stranger, okay?" Coraline looked at him and sighed. She was tired at this point but smiled nonetheless.
"All right," She replied. "Off you go now, Godric of Rosetown. The wide world awaits you."
Godric looked at Coraline and bid her goodbye. The rain was now slowly beginning to stop, and rays of sunlight were finally shining through the dark clouds. He now only had one goal in mind: to return to Mistveil Forest alive.
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The journey back was treacherous, as the roads were now infested with soldiers wearing green cloaks. Each time Godric spotted a soldier, he would hide himself from their view and watch from afar how innocents were being violently interrogated or punished without reason. Godric wanted to reveal himself and help, but that would do nothing but risk everything he ever worked for.
He was confused as to what was going on. He knew that he was being hunted for being a murderer, but for soldiers of House Polifio to do such acts was too much, even for his standards. What is going on here? He asked himself. With the way things were going, he knew he had no more time to spare, and hastened his journey back to King Ithilien's realm.
Godric took a more careful approach and opted to take a different route back. It took him almost a fortnight, but eventually, he found himself in front of the elves' forests. He took a deep breath and entered. Mistveil Forest was still the same as he remembered. The once-strange flora and animals from before now greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend. He was worried that he would find it difficult to find the northern entranceway into the inner kingdom, but it only took him a few hours until he saw what appeared to be signs of life, as a moss-covered pathway was now visible, along with stone pillars of elvish design.
"Halt!" A voice shouted. Godric looked up to the dark trees overhead and saw that there were at least a dozen archers above with their bows already ready and aimed at him. "Who goes there?" an elf asked.
Godric removed his cloak, revealing himself to the elves who immediately lowered their weapons and gasped in shock. "The mortal has returned!" The elf shouted at his comrade. "Open the gates and immediately inform the King!" He barked.
The ancient, wooden gates shuddered intensely, and afterward, slowly opened. Godric entered the elven kingdom and was warmly met with a roaring crowd who anticipated his return. The king's guard intervened to provide the young man a direct passage toward the royal hall, where he was told that the king and his children were waiting for him.
He entered the inner sanctum with the king's guard marching alongside him. They walked on the magical pathway that curved and bent in different directions. For the first time in a while, Godric felt at peace. It almost felt like a lifetime ago when he first set foot on these same steps. It felt nostalgic, terrifying, and intoxicating all at the same time. Eventually, they found themselves at the front of the royal hall.
"They await for you inside," A soldier said. "Please, enter."
Godric responded with a nod and swung open the doors. True enough, there seated on the Adhirala throne was the great elven king Ithilien. Beside him on each side were his children: the twins Anarórë and lómë.
Godric walked in silence until he reached the center of the hall, where he stopped and knelt on one knee as he bowed his head, with the spear in plain sight. He heard an audible gasp, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Anarórë speak something to her father and walk past Godric without saying a word--leaving the throne room as quickly as she could.
"Godric," Ithilien spoke, breaking the silence that filled the room after Anarórë's exit. "You've returned to Mistveil Forest, battered and bruised--broken, even, if I might say. I can see that you have been through so much. Were you successful?" The king's voice wavered, but Godric pretended not to notice.
"I believe so, Your Majesty." Godric took his leather pouch and carefully opened it, taking out and revealing the dazzling necklace--the tears of the crescent moon. The young man thought he would have grown accustomed to its beauty, but he was mistaken. Ithilien gasped out of shock, while lómë was awestruck, staring at the necklace in disbelief.
"T-the tears...our sacred relic..." lómë began to speak as he approached Godric. "My friend...you have done us a great service." The elven prince hugged him, catching Godric off guard, who responded with a hug as well, albeit a weak one.
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"...You're welcome. It was the least I could do." He replied.
"I have to tell the druids about this," the prince uttered excitedly. "If I may, Father." Ithilien granted his son permission to leave, which resulted in Godric and the king being the only two beings left in the royal hall.
"On behalf of the entire elven race Godric, we thank you. We will hold to our word: you are absolved of your sins. All elven realms, by my name and honor as King of Mistveil Forest, will be open to you. You will no longer want food or shelter as long as you find yourself underneath elvish sanctuary." The king bowed his head in respect for Godric.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Truly, I am honored--but I wouldn't have made it here without help. You see--"
"Yes, Thrillseeker." Ithilien cut Godric off. "It was a gift given to us by House Huntingborne many moons ago. Almost a thousand years, if memory serves me correctly. It was meant to serve as the bridge between our two Great Houses." The king continued.
"How fares Evander?" He asked.
Godric was caught off guard. "H-how do you...?"
"He frequently visited us, bringing gifts. We found his company to be quite pleasing. My daughter was also fond of him as they both are natural warriors." The king said.
"Well, Your Majesty...he's gone," Godric responded. "He saved me from being killed during the fight. We both thought we had defeated the monster, but we were caught unaware. It showed its true form and was about to kill me when he bravely launched himself on top of it and destroyed the cavern's foundations, toppling the cave and crushing both him and the monster." Godric recalled the events that happened. Sharing the experience helped him cope with the guilt, but it still was not enough.
"I see. I will write to House Huntingborne regarding this matter. They too, have my sincerest gratitude." Ithilien lightly grasped Godric shoulder, sensing his mood.
"Do not be too hard on yourself, young one. If there is anything I've learned in all my lifetimes, you cannot save everyone." He looked at Godric again, then turned and headed toward his private quarters.
"Your Majesty, if I may ask--" Godric blurted out. "The witch we fought. Before she turned into a monster, her form was an elf. I brushed it off at first, but I noticed that she had strikingly similar features to Anarórë. Could it be that--"
"Beautiful, wasn't she?" Ithilien replied in a somber tone. Godric did not respond.
"Her name was Illyrana. She was the love of my life and the owner of the necklace." The king grasped the necklace softly as if remembering her touch.
"Before her death, I tasked someone to merge the sacred gemstones and the necklace, forming the tears of the crescent moon. In that way, I could honor her memory by protecting the legacy of our people, whilst keeping her valuable treasure under close watch as we ruled side by side. Imagine my grief after that monster not only killed her but took the relic as well." Ithilien continued as he turned to face the young man.
"This victory is very personal to me Godric, and without the help of you and Evander, this would not have been possible. For that, you have my eternal gratitude." The king bowed down to Godric, shocking him. Ithilien simply smiled afterward, showing his scarred face, and headed to his quarters.
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The entire kingdom was overjoyed. Godric, a former stranger and enemy, was now redeemed and revered as a hero. The king announced to the entire realm that a grand celebration was to take place immediately in the evening to celebrate the momentous occasion. The inhabitants were ecstatic, for they never thought that their most sacred relic would be returned. They also found joy in the idea that their king was in a visibly pleasant mood, which to them, was a rare sight.
The feast lasted for hours on end. Songs were sung, food was eaten, and drinks were shared. Godric could not move one step without being noticed or praised. He was seated at the king's table during the feast but noticed that Anarórë was missing. He continued to smile and celebrate alongside House Alastrassa and the other elves throughout the night.
Eventually, it came to a point where Godric had the time and opportunity to escape the noise of the festivities. Evander's death still weighed heavily on his mind. He was grateful for all the appreciation the elves showed him, but deep down, he mostly felt nothing. Smiles and laughs were exchanged but on Godric's end, it was all for show. He spent the early hours of the morning walking around Mistveil Forest, admiring the beauty of House Alastrassa's ancient seat as the inhabitants were still away from their homes, being invited into the inner sanctum to celebrate Godric's triumph.
The silence that befell the forest was eerie, yet it had a certain charm to it. It eased his mind. He passed through houses and buildings, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure on top of a structure. Without hesitation, he immediately headed to its position.
Minutes later, Godric was close enough to inspect who the shadowy figure was. To his surprise, it was Anarórë. She was seated on top of the large structure made out of ancient wood and stone. She seemed to be deep in thought.
"Took you long enough," Anarórë said, which made Godric chuckle. "You must know by now that you can never sneak up on me."
"I wasn't planning to," Godric replied as he approached the elf and sat down beside her. "We missed your presence at the banquet and festivities, you know."
"I am on patrol."
"How vigilant of you then, considering that all your companions are in the inner sanctum celebrating while you're out here by your lonesome. I'm not as dumb as you think I am, Anarórë." Godric remarked.
The elf sighed in response to his comment. "Fine. I take it you know who the spear belongs to?" she asked him.
"Regrettably, yes. He could have killed me, you know, but by sheer luck, I managed to snap him back to his senses." Godric told Anarórë the story of how he met Evander in the cavern. Each time he mentioned his name, the elf would smile.
"That would be Evander. Headstrong, kind-hearted, yet fierce." Anarórë said. "Tell me, is he still..." Godric's smile then faded, and she immediately understood what she had meant.
"Oh... I see." Her smile disappeared as she bowed her head in silence. "What happened?"
Godric then recalled the events that transpired. The minutes spent together turned seamlessly into hours. Anarórë sat in silence as she stared across the outskirts of Mistveil Forest.
"I see. So he died on his terms," she said. "A warrior to the end--but a stupid one at that," Godric smirked at her comment. "I guess you could say that. I most likely became friends with him because we're both simple-minded fools." Anarórë laughed at Godric's jest.
"The great princess of House Alastrassa, laughing? Now that's a first." Godric teased her.
"So I am not afraid to laugh, now? Even individuals such as myself need to find happiness in the simplest of things, lest I risk myself going mad," she responded. Godric looked at her and a thought crossed his mind.
"Well, Your Highness, here I am--alive and kicking. I think you owe me some answers." Anarórë looked at him as if to say that she already knew what he was referring to. "Ask away, then."
"Fortnights ago when we first met, everyone accepted me almost immediately, except for you. You stared at me as if I were some pest that needed to be put down, and truth be told--I never liked it. Why?"
Anarórë looked across the houses and trees, to the distant horizon where the sun was now beginning to rise.
"...Like I said before, Godric: I was both envious and slightly jealous of you," she responded. "When you came to us, you had nothing. You were free and were given a second chance to start anew. Meanwhile, I grew up here, born and raised to follow rules and do the tasks that are expected from us nobles. I hated every bit of it. Not to mention being born without any trace of mana, I felt like an outcast amongst my kind. I resonated with you in that manner, but in your case, you still had a chance to write your own story."
Godric fell silent as he listened intently to Anarórë's words. He could tell that she spoke nothing but the truth and that small detail made every word feel like another stab to the heart.
"I rebelled from time to time, but the best attempt I ever achieved was to become a captain of the elven patrol. I have had many opportunities to escape, do not get me wrong, but I love my family too much to leave them without a trace. I am grateful for lómë--without him, I would have killed myself long ago." She continued.
"...And so, I began to slowly accept my fate and everything stayed that way. I did what was expected of me as a noble and as a captain. However, everything changed when another mortal, just like you, stumbled across our realm. Unlike you, he was welcomed like any other since he never did nor plotted anything against our kind, I grew curious, so every time we would meet I asked what the world outside was like, and with each story he told, he never disappointed. For some reason, I grew attached to him." Anarórë began to twirl her hair and rocked back and forth, smiling--almost as if to say she was reliving every memory while she spoke to Godric.
"However, a day passed when he told me that he had to go away. I knew something was wrong and deep down, a part of me wanted to escape this world and join him--but I hesitated and let him go. I had responsibilities and I felt that in some way, I never made a mark in his life. Days turned into months, and he never returned. I turned bitter and cold, and shut myself out even further from my kind." Godric could see that the elf was devasted and brokenhearted.
"...I've never seen you like this, Anarórë," Godric told her.
"...What, miserable?"
"...Vulnerable." He responded.
Anarórë was silent for a moment. The light had now shone through the trees, bathing her in a bright light. Godric was stunned at her beauty. The fierce, yet isolated elf was now a complete opposite of her usual self. He admired her beauty but knew that her heart already belonged to another, and such a possibility was but a dream.
"Well then, in that case, I can help you find him," Godric offered to help ease her pain. "Did he say where he was off to? I can start from there." He said as he looked at Anarórë, who still stared off into the distance.
"Thank you for the kind offer, but there is no need to do so," she replied in a somber tone. "And why is that?" He asked.
"Because you already carried with you the last remaining memory I have of him when you returned," Anarórë replied. It took Godric a while, but he realized what he had meant.
"A-Anarórë, I did not mean to--" The young man stuttered.
"No, it is okay." The elf replied as she stood up and wiped a tear from her eye. "We cannot change what has happened. He died on his terms, that is all that is important." She walked past Godric and headed toward the inner sanctum. "I must go. I have things to attend to." Anarórë said as she began to reach the edge of the rooftop.
"He never stopped thinking about you, you know," Godric remarked, stopping Anarórë in her tracks. "Before he died, the last words he spoke were of you. He apologizes that he couldn't follow through with his promise."
The young man stood and could hear the princess silently sobbing. A moment later, she turned and hugged Godric tightly. Afterward, Godric felt a warm touch across his cheeks, which was followed by the bittersweet, yet ever-loving taste of strawberries on his lips as Anarórë kissed him passionately, which ignited a spark that tingled from the back of his head and throughout his body.
The moment felt like it lasted for a lifetime. As her lips slowly parted from his, Godric was left speechless and flustered as he heard Anarórë giggle for the first time.
"Thank you, Godric." She said in a soft, sweet tone as her eyes were locked into his.
"For what?" The young man asked.
"For providing me closure with my past--and a chance for love to enter this cold heart once again." She responded with a sincere look.
The princess stepped back and without another word, left Godric alone as sunlight now illuminated the kingdom under its mellow touch. A new day had risen, and the young man sat back down, dumbfounded.
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Godric spent a few more days inside the elven kingdom, earning his keep. He helped out in the villages and reached out to elves to help him learn more about their culture. He also shared what he had learned growing up, sharing a few ideas invented by Men that even the Elves were astonished by.
From time to time, he asked Anarórë to help him with his training. Because of Evander, he knew that his weapon had more to it than he thought, and hoped that through combat, he would gain full mastery of it. The elf obliged without hesitation, of course, and never held back against him during their fights.
Evander's words were true as Godric now found himself on the losing side each time they fought, proving that the princess was indeed, holding back before they left. The young man found himself glancing at her from time to time, but she never showed any signs of affection whatsoever, despite what happened. Godric, however, found himself happy after noticing that Anarórë was now happier than usual, as he would catch her interacting more with others, and smiling.
One afternoon, lómë and Godric found themselves walking through the village near the gates, discussing a few things that concerned both the mortal and the elves.
"It seems that you are finding yourself quite comfortable here, friend." lómë remarked. "Are you planning on settling here? If you do plan on doing so, we have a position on the council ready for you."
"That's very generous of you, lómë, I'll think about it. I do want to travel more though," He replied. "After seeing the world outside my own, I am now craving for more. It would be hard to sit idly here and suddenly find myself growing twigs out of my head--I meant no offense, though."
The prince laughed at the jest, but the smile on his face suddenly disappeared. There was a look of concern on his face.
"Do you feel it, Godric?" He asked. It took Godric a while, but he also felt the immense pressure emanating outside the kingdom's gates. The two of them braced for what was about to come, as the residents scrambled for safety.
The ancient gates suddenly opened without warning, shocking the two. A bright light shone through the entryway, blinding the prince and mortal. Out of the corner of his eye, Godric spotted three individuals covered by the radiance.
"Who goes there?!" lómë demanded an answer.
"Peace, Prince of House Alastrassa," a voice replied. "We bear no ill will." Godric heard eerily silent and synchronized footsteps hit the ground as the three individuals moved forward.
In a mere blink of a second, King Ithilien materialized out of thin air between the prince and Godric. The mortal knew that this was serious, as the uncontested ruler of Mistveil Forest displayed his unparalleled mana in a showcase of dominance and authority.
"Good afternoon to you three," Ithilien said, calmly. "I did not receive word that the esteemed Royal Guard of the Capital would visit us. It has been quite some time, after all--if I knew we were expecting company, I would have prepared something ahead of time. Whatever is the matter?"
The light disappeared to reveal three masked individuals who wore impressive, sleek, hooded white armor with black cloaks. Godric could tell they were magical, refined, and of high quality. They were almost on par, if not better, than what he had.
"We sincerely apologize for the intrusion, Your Majesty, but we are here on orders from the Capital. All Great Houses are being called--Sir Byronard himself requests your immediate presence and cooperation regarding this pressing concern." Another answered the king's question.
"...And what would that be, if I may ask?" The king asked, curious.
"Your Majesty," the three of them looked at each other, then one of them responded. "Rosetown, the ancient seat of House Polifio, has been utterly destroyed--wiped off the face of the earth. Lord Mikhael and his family are missing, and there have been reports that magic was used." The king's eyes widened, as he was caught off guard by the troubling news.
Ithilien looked back at Godric, stunned and at a loss for words. lómë approached the young in an attempt to snap him back to reality, but there was nothing they could do, for all Godric could hear was static, as his world suddenly spiraled down to the deepest parts of the seven hells.