“Oh, come on Lyon, don’t look so sad.” Mira said, her brows slightly touching.
“But I wanna go to the river again! Why did summer have to end so soon?” I mumbled, my face still pressed against the table.
“Don’t be like that, Lyon. We can go to the river anytime you want,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yeah, but not to swim!” I sat up with a jolt. “What’s the point of going if we can’t swim?”
“Well,” Mira said, smiling, “I can think of plenty of reasons. But... is now really the time to discuss them?” She tapped the history book sitting in front of me.
I pouted. “No…”
She ruffled my hair with a small chuckle, then flipped open the book. “Do you remember where we left off yesterday?”
If I were an elf, my ears would perk up. “Yes!”
I was sad about summer ending, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be excited about my lessons! Especially history! I mean, Blood Wars! Did I have to say more? From the name alone, the third epoch was the coolest!
It started when the three races—humans, elves, and dwarves—reunited, and ended under a red sky. But what came before was even more mysterious.
The First Epoch was known as the Age of the Dark. Not much is known about it, and there have been so many stories that it’s hard to tell where the line between myth and reality is drawn. All that is known is that it ended when the Messiah banished the darkness, letting light finally touch Elmore.
The Second Epoch was a lot more detailed. It was divided into several ages, but the one I learned about the most was the second-to-last age—the Golden Age. It was a time of prosperity when humans, elves, and dwarves each built their kingdoms. It came after the Age of the Gods, and just before the Age of Meetings—which, yeah, sounded like a boring name, but it led to the Blood Wars. So… not that funny in the end.
Mira said we had only touched upon the epochs briefly, and we’d be returning back to them for more details once we were finished with our own, the fourth, but we were still going over the Blood Wars so it would take some time.
Yesterday, we began reaching the revolution of the Elves, or more accurately, how it was about to start. Mira had told me that much but refused to explain further, so unfair!
“We left off right when the Tideguard, Helion, and Ortoi families, along with their allies—the Arthenikas, Sperekas, Flairmekas, and Katherticas—arrived before the city of Souliv,” I quickly added, raising a finger to cut off her question.
Mira let out the breath she had been holding, her shoulders dropping in playful defeat as she smiled.
“Well done, Lyon. I guess there won’t be a reason for a summary then.” She said flipping a few pages to a map where a grand city stood at the edge of a giant waterfall.
“This, my dear, was once the city of Souliv. It was the greatest city in all of the Ionian Kingdom, second only to the Moonblossom Forest in beauty. The map doesn’t show it well, but the city wasn’t simply at the edge of the Roaring Curtain—it was integrated within it.” She turned the page, revealing two paintings of the city: one from above, the other from beneath the Roaring Curtain.
It was...
From above, the castle seemed to rise from the waterfall, as if carved from the very rock it stood on. Its gleaming stone walls shimmered in the spray of the cascading water, with vines and lush greenery clinging to every surface. Narrow streets wound their way up the cliffs, bordered by homes with rooftops lush with moss and small, hanging gardens. The city seemed to breathe with the waterfall, its buildings blending seamlessly with the natural landscape, making it difficult to tell where stone ended and living greenery began. Yet, despite its beauty, the structures were no less grand: towering spires and bridges arched across the flowing water, connecting parts of the city like veins through a living organism.
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And yet, it couldn’t even compare to the second painting.
From below, the waterfall soared endlessly upward, disappearing into the sky, where water and heavens merged, the distant sun the only marking for their divide. Behind that shimmering curtain, the buildings emerged from the mist like pale phantoms, their tall, narrow silhouettes glimmering faintly in white and green. Streets wove in and out of the waterfall’s flow, leading into sheltered alcoves carved into the cliffs, where homes and shops nestled within the rock. Water coursed through the city, guided by aqueducts and canals that twisted beneath stone archways, feeding the city’s life and trade.
It truly was a city built inside a waterfall.
“As the Asmitian forces pushed deeper into the Anrenora region, the situation grew dire for the elves.” Mira began.
“Communication faltered, and resources became scarce, but worse than all of that was the humans’ reckless advance. They had no reverence for nature, leaving only destruction in their wake. Forests burned, rivers overflowed with debris, and trees were torn from their roots, as they marched forward without hesitation.”
She said there was no reason for a summary, and that technically wasn’t really a summary, but it felt like one. But that was okay. Actually, I liked it a lot when she did that. It helped me immerse in history and it made it a lot easier to learn. And more fun.
“The seeds of rage and revenge took root deep within the hearts of the elves. They had known war before—no kingdom was untouched by conflict—but even then the brutality and disrespect the humans brought was unlike anything the elves had ever seen.“
The more I listened to Mira, the more my anger towards the Asmit Kingdom burned inside me.
“Overwhelmed by the superior tactics and numbers of the Asmit kingdom, together with the dwarven armies marching to the Fylanoth region, the city of Soliv, standing in-between the two regions, found itself surrounded from both sides.”
I almost gasped but managed to hold it in. Mira wasn’t done talking and I didn’t want to interrupt her.
“With a cliff in front and stream behind¹, the beacon of hope for the Ionian Kingdom was cornered, yet unbroken, a symbol of defiance amidst impending doom. Despite the incalculable odds stacked against them, the Souliveils’ didn’t waiver and fought valiantly to protect their land until they were forced to seal themselves behind the castles defenses.”
“For two long years, both the Asmitians and Rhineheartians laid siege to the city, yet not a single dent could be seen on its mighty walls.“ She said, finally pausing.
Quickly taking the opportunity I asked the first question that came to mind. “Really? Not a single one? How is that possible?”
“Well...” She scratched her left cheek lightly. “I can’t really say. This happened so long ago, and most of the records have been lost over the passage of time.”
I frowned, leaning in a little closer. “So, no one really knows what happened?”
Mira shrugged slightly, her expression thoughtful. “Not exactly. What we do know comes from the few surviving texts and stories passed down over the generations. And while we may never have the full picture, the outcome is still known, and it shaped everything that followed.”
“Now, let’s continue,” she said, turning back to the book.
“After two years of constant war, Sebastian Arthenika—one of the most brilliant commanders in the Asmitian forces—devised a plan, and in the year 434 T.E. (T.E.=third epoch), the Sebastianing Agreement was forged with the dwarves—a temporary truce in exchange for a shared goal: the conquest of the city. Both armies set up camp—one before the castle walls, the other beneath the Roaring Curtain—yet instead of clashing, they chose to wait.”
I frowned even deeper.
‘Sebastian...’
Why did that name anger me so much? I mean, sure it was an ugly name, horrible even, to the point where I would ask a few serious questions to the mother who named their child Sebastian, but still, why? I didn’t know any Sebastian...
‘Weird...’
Unaware of my personal hate for the ugly, Mira continued.
“They knew the Souliveils would eventually be forced to act. Trapped with no reinforcements and supplies running dangerously low, the defenders faced a dire choice: either starve within their fortress or march out to meet certain death.”
“When word spread of their plight, chaos engulfed the Ionian Kingdom. Every elf felt the tremors of fear, rippling from the highest noble halls to the most distant villages. Even those who had dismissed the war as distant and exaggerated could no longer deceive themselves. The mightiest fortress in the Ionian Kingdom had become a death trap, and their kin were starving within its towering walls.”
“Three long years passed, enough time for the entire world to hear of the Souliveils’ silent agony. Yet through all this time, not a single elf had left the city, nor had any news escaped from behind the walls. Until, at last, on March 21st of the year 437 T.E., the silence was shattered.”