“Why did you not want to take responsibility for the last piece of information you provided?” questioned Viceregent Val’lay, his tone carrying the usual air of superiority.
“Because I feared—”
“Feared what?” interrupted Val’lay, halting Lord Jarailo’s explanation.
“That it might be false. My reputation as a trustworthy merchant and purveyor of information would be jeopardized. A merchant lives and dies by that,” Lord Jarailo grasped the implication. “The criminal leaders weren’t present, were they? You see, this is precisely why—”
“Silence,” commanded Val’lay. The elf exited the cramped chamber briefly, returning promptly with another elf, Lai’Seili.
“Lai’Seili, my respects,” greeted Lord Jarailo, yet the female elf remained silent, offering no acknowledgment of his words.
“Did you know something about this?” she asked, standing solemnly beside Val’lay.
“The information being wrong? No, but I had doubts about its veracity. I told the General as much,” replied Lord Jarailo.
“My husband is death,” declared Lai’Seili, her voice lacking any hint of sadness.
“What!? How?” Lord Jarailo’s shock morphed into a realization of his precarious situation. “You think I had something to do with it? That explains why I’m here, and why you suddenly forgot how much I have helped you.”
“We’re not forgetting anything,” Lai’Seili interjected before Val’lay could speak.
“Yet you’ll suspect me nonetheless. It’s not like I didn’t see that coming... elves, humans... every race out there, all the same in the end.”
“This is a serious matter, and we will not leave any stone unturned. You either cooperate or...” Val’lay trailed off, managing to contain his anger.
“See?” Lord Jarailo directed his gaze towards Lai’Seili. “The same. But I am willing to cooperate. So, what happened? Maybe I can assist you in unraveling this... sad state of affairs you find yourselves in.”
“That’s the issue, we are uncertain of what occurred. The elven forces under General Farra’lais’s command were found death,” stated Lai’Seili, in this moment more composed than Val’lay.
“Everyone?”
Lai’Seili looked at Val’lay, then inclined her head towards Lord Jarailo. “Tell him, Val’lay. We require his full cooperation.”
Val’lay sighed, turning to Lord Jarailo. “What you hear here will stay between us. Do you understand?”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
“You’d best not, or we’ll know. Now, this is where things become strange. We found the General and his soldiers all dead, but only them. While we found signs of battle, we didn’t find the bodies of those they fought. And... concerning our kin... all their ears... were missing,” explained Val’lay, visible ill at ease.
“Their what? I didn’t quite catch that last part?” asked Lord Jarailo.
“Their ears, Lord Jarailo. Their ears were missing,” replied Lai’Seili.
“All of them?”
“Yes, all of them, and the... the head of the General. His head wasn’t there either,” detailed the female elf.
Lord Jarailo fixed his gaze on Lai’Seili. “I’m sorry about your husband and his soldiers. I didn’t know they met such a demise.” He bowed his head.
Angry but devoid of tears or sadness, Lai’Seili took a deep breath. “What happened, as evil and wrong as it was, has already occurred. What we need now is to get to the bottom of this... transgression.”
“I understand your concerns, and as I already said, I will fully cooperate.”
“Then, disclose the identity of your informant,” interjected Val’lay.
“It’s not that simple—”
“You can’t or you won’t?” questioned Lai’Seili.
“Are you consorting with our enemies?” Val’lay’s inquiry overlapped with that of the female elf.
“I acknowledge the gravity of the situation, yet let’s think for a moment, alright?” Lord Jarailo glanced at each elf. “Consider, Viceregent. I’ve never once told you lies, and when I met the General, I explicitly expressed my distrust of the intelligence. The information that every one of you pressed me to acquire... But I understand. If I tell you how I obtained this information, what changes? Instead, I stand to lose all credibility in the HUF. Furthermore, I risk being branded a traitor, thus nullifying any chance of me entering the HUF ever again. Indeed, I will question my sources about this matter, it concerns my reputation and... as I see it now, my life is at stake.”
“How do you intend to do so when you will be confined, not only within the Elven Kingdom or Silifran, but within the very dungeon where you are to spend the rest of your days!” exclaimed Val’lay, almost shouting in his frustration.
“Compose yourself! In reverence to Syl’vi’na’s memory, Viceregent Val’lay!” urged Lai’Seili. “You’re not helping the situation.”
Val’lay’s eyes blazed with fury. “It was clearly an ambush! And he’s the one who brought the information!”
"Is this a formal accusation of something you’re not even sure of? I expect this of humans, but not of you elves, and certainly not of the elves of this city. With all due respect, is there proof that none of the criminal leaders were there? If not, then who killed your forces? You mentioned a fight; then that means the General and his elves battled someone there... and lost. It doesn’t have to be this great conspiracy, sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one.” Lord Jarailo wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “I understand I’m in the Elven Kingdom and, as a human, I am a prime suspect, but be diligent. Accuse me with proof, with something concrete. I hear only words... but are these rational ones? Or emotional ones?”
“Are you calling me a liar?” questioned Val’lay, with more doubts than certainties, but one of those certainties being not to trust humans.
“Take a deep breath, Viceregent. Rein in your agitated spirit,” advised Lai’Seili, who moved past Val’lay to stand beside to Lord Jarailo. “This is a grave matter, Lord Jarailo. A general, retired but still a general of the Elven Kingdom, has been slain. Of course, the Kingdom suspects you, but neither the Protectorate, the Legazz, nor anyone else has proof of anything—”
“Lai’Seili!” objected Val’lay.
“That’s the truth, Viceregent,” she asserted, stepping back to address both males present. “Our purpose here is to uncover the truth, not to fling baseless accusations. We are elves. Our forefathers watch us, and our Gods guide us.” She turned her head towards Val’lay. “I want my husband’s murder resolved, but I do not desire a witch hunt.”
Val’lay had no words, grappling with his troubled mind which worked against him in these trying times. In that moment, a guard burst into the room.
“Viceregent Val’lay, urgent news! You’re needed downstairs!”
“Wait here, Lai’Seili. Soldier, guard the room. And Lord Jarailo... mind your conduct.”
“Never would I think of doing harm, especially not to Lai’Seili, such a refined elven female.” Viceregent Val’lay had long vacated the room when Lord Jarailo stopped speaking. The soldier followed Val’lay and stationed himself outside the room.
“Jarailo, I won’t feign sorrow over my husband’s demise, because I feel none. But I must ask you this... are you in any way involved in his death or that of his forces?”
The human Lord gazed deeply into her golden eyes “This is the first time you’ve called me simply Jarailo...”
“Please, answer me,” she said, lightly smiling.
“No. I had nothing to do with your husband’s death.”
Her smile widened. “I believe you, and... be patient. We elves, of late, have become... suspicious. But you will be alright.”
Lord Jarailo returned her smile, and shortly after, Viceregent Val’lay entered the room.
“What is it?” inquired Lai’Seili, concern on her face.
“Lord Jarailo can go,” stated Val’lay.
“What happened?” Lai’Seili pressed for an explanation.
“We received a letter signed by four criminal leaders.” Viceregent Val’lay held the parchment in his right hand. “It states here that they lament the General’s death but claim they were simply defending themselves from hatred.”
“Let me see that.” Lai’Seili snatched the letter from his grasp. As she read it, her face twisted with a blend of astonishment and bewilderment. “They blame my husband not for coming to arrest criminals, but for raiding a peaceful gathering of kinhayas who dared talk against their treatment under elven rule. They assert his hatred for anything non-elven was but a symptom of the hatred all elves have for what we see as ‘lessers’ and how the General espoused the final goal that we elves strive towards, which is to bend all the ‘lessers’ to our will. It even alleges that... Is this true, Val’lay?!” she shouted, finishing her reading.
“I cannot discuss that,” replied Val’lay, stone-cold.
“Get out... out!” Lai’Seili finally lost her composure.
Val’lay excused himself and exited the room, accompanied by the soldier stationed outside.
“What does the letter say, Lai’Seili?” inquired Lord Jarailo.
La’Seili didn’t answer, needing a moment to calm down. She would later reproach herself for such a lapse—as head of the Rulseah family, losing control was not acceptable. After a prolonged pause, she turned her attention to the human lord. “The letter states that the Lanaen Band operated under elven leadership. This explains why they never sold intoxicating substances in the inner rings or to any elf. Their sole purpose was to target those in the outer ring, to weaken them, to turn them into cattle.” She paused and inhaled deeply. “It says exactly that—into cattle. And... they accuse my husband of heading the Lanaen Band. The letter concludes by asserting that the confrontation was a matter of self-preservation not only for those at the gathering but for all kinhayas.”
“That’s... too much to contemplate” murmured Lord Jarailo.
“I don’t know how much is true or not, but—”
A soldier barged into the chamber, interrupting Lai’Seili. “Urgent news!”
“What now?” Lai’Seili’s spirit had cracked earlier, and she wondered how much longer she could endure.
“Posters with the contents of this letter have been sighted throughout the outer ring. Riots have erupted across this ring. Your Grace needs to return to the inner ring. It is no longer safe here.”
Livid, Lai’Seili set the parchment down on the table. She would later recall how she must had looked this day—pale, expressionless, devoid of emotion. “Lord Jarailo, I regret deeply the mistreatment you have endured. Allow my servants to escort you to your residence here in Silifran. I must take my leave now.”
“Let it be so, and... take care.”
*
The news of the General’s demise sent shockwaves through the Elven Kingdom, rattling its very foundation. His death—especially that of a general, an occurrence not witnessed since the war with humans over a century ago—foreshadowed that onset of a new era of turmoil and chaos for the elves.
Successive urgent meetings ensued, spanning days on end, as elven leaders deliberated on how to deal with the internal crisis that had grown out of hand and contend with the external threats. Their adversaries, gleeful at the sight of unrest in elven lands, eagerly awaited an opportune moment to push them to the edge. Beyond the borders of the Elven Kingdom, enemies conspired in light of this development. The Human United Front dispatched forces to specific border cities, movements to which the elves had to respond in kind by deploying their own soldiers as well.
In Silifran, the elves quelled the riots among the kinhayas using force. Then came the same promises as always. However, this time the kinhayas didn’t simply take the abuse lying down. Delegations arrived from the feralis, the gnomes, and other races with large representation and some semblance of governance.
The tense atmosphere permeated elven society, particularly in border cities, which would bear the brunt of any ensuing conflict. The Human United Front probed elven responses and readiness, and although the border remained quiet, the unsettling calm prompted the usual shady characters to hide and wait for the storm to pass, while others, such as Del’vhario and its affiliates within a larger criminal coalition, entrenched deeper into the existing structures.
Under the Federation’s banner—a supra organization under which four criminal groups had coalesced out of necessity, survival instinct, and promises of wealth and power—ostensibly led by a council but de facto under the command of their formidable leader, the redheaded elf, and his newly appointed lieutenants from the Valentian Scars, Sae’gez and Saints, efforts intensified. Fueled by the generous quantities of the prototype dust developed by Del’vhario since the group’s inception, the Federation worked tirelessly to expand their sway across the region. From human lands to elven domains, they influenced anything that drew breath and possessed any kind of consciousness in the borderless region, leaving no entity untouched and nothing to chance.
After enduring several harsh setbacks in rapid succession, the elves resolved to respond in kind. Throughout the Elven Kingdom, rumors spread about a new General, a guardian bestowed with the elves’ most sacred blessings, pledged to unleash fiery retribution upon the criminals infecting the realm and tasked with the priority mission of finishing the Federation, Del’vhario, and their elusive leader. This chaotic period inundated the streets of elven border cities with rumors and speculations. One persistent rumor, alleging an elf as the mastermind behind the elves’ recent troubles, spread like wildfire and refused to die down.
Aware that the truth could no longer be concealed, the elves opted to take preemptive action. They publicly declared X as the most notorious criminal in the entire Elven Kingdom, offering a hefty bounty for his capture. Through this and other measures, the elves sought to contain the escalating crisis that threatened to spiral out of control—a harbinger of numerous challenges threatening to reconfigure not only the elven border but the very fabric of the nations residing in this world.
*
In the clandestine lair of Del’vhario, located within the ruins of an ancient human abode, a celebration raged. However, the revelry did not stem from the death of the General or the establishment of the Federation.
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X celebrated with uncompromising delight, a sinister grin adorning his countenance, the culmination of his greatest feat. Sikue achieved what appeared impossible—after relentless research, backed by a plethora of resources acquired through licit and illicit means, including stealing from the Wizarding Tower to fulfill the feralis’ demands for rare ingredients, his efforts had finally blossomed.
“The diminished skull fuck did it!?” Nila exclaimed with incredulity.
“Yes! He did it!” proclaimed X, raising his arms in triumph.
“I really thought he would fail,” admitted Mau.
“That’s what you’d preferred, you gnome-caw!” retorted Sikue, stepping into the main chamber of the ruins.
“So, where is it?” questioned Mau, already drooling at the prospect of trying it.
“It’s awaiting the final step: experimentation,” explained X. “Sikue actually achieved his breakthrough many moons ago, but I insisted we ensure it wouldn’t kill the user and addressed various other aspects. Through numerous trials and tests with... er, willing subjects, we perfected it step by step. We even send the first batches of prototypes to the other leaders. Despite its incomplete state, the leaders accepted Del’vhario’s terms. The allure of what they held in their hands and entered their system was too irresistible for them to reject.”
“My creation is finally complete! Caw-caw! My name will echo through the ages!” exclaimed Sikue. “I conducted some caw-experiments on certain beasts, and it seems it function perfectly, caw-caw. But as you instructed, this last caw-batch has yet to undergo testing.”
“Good, let’s proceed to the workshop,” declared X, sporting a broad grin.
The quartet hastened their steps, quickly entering the chamber of strange research, eager to behold the magnificent work of art. It was the very product the Federation required to propel themselves into the annals of history, to baptize their nascent empire of dust.
Sikue retrieved a box and withdrew a parchment from it, roughly the size of a hand in length and width.
“Give it to me,” instructed X, taking the plant-based parchment from Sikue and cutting it into four equal parts. “Are the sizes satisfactory?” inquired X.
“They appear adequate, caw!” affirmed Sikue.
The redheaded elf distributed one piece to each of the other three sentient beings present.
“What is this?” questioned Mau. He had expected something different.
“Purple gold,” replied X.
Mau scrutinized the parchment. Its purple hue emitted a faint glow, embellished with elven script.
“Is this really a spell?” inquired Nila. She vaguely remembered discussing this with X ages ago but had lost all interest in it until today.
“Better... I told you, didn’t I? My dream, my vision,” stated X.
“I kinda remember... or was it a hallucination?” mused Mau.
“It was magnificent, and now, at the turn of a century, history waits for us,” declared X, securing the scroll between his left bicep and his arm, where a prominent vein faintly popped. “Follow my lead and place the parchment here.”
“This is not going to hurt, is it?” asked Nila. “Because the last times... I don’t know what to expect anymore from Sikues’ magic.”
“Unbelievers, caw-caw!”
“Just do it...” X smiled and everyone complied. “And repeat after me,” he inhaled. “laek’sa dinya lafae.” As each participant echoed the incantations, the parchments radiated with brilliance. Functioning akin to the healing scroll X had experienced previously, the magic penetrated their skin and muscles, seeking out their veins. However, unlike a healing scroll, this spell wasn’t designed to mend damaged tissue or bone; instead, it injected pure and undiluted Purple Haze directly into their bloodstreams.
The hit of the potent substance caught them off guard. Their minds expanded into infinity, engulfed by a sense of godhood that invaded their consciousness. Within this realm, they conjured a shared vision that, unbeknownst to them, influenced reality. Though not immediately discernible, these alterations subtly shifted fate in wondrous and horrific paths.
With their last flare of consciousness, Nila and Mau exchanged a knowing glance, comprehending why the leaders of the other criminal factions acquiesced to X’s terms, even as he ultimately changed them to better suit his tastes.
Through subterfuge, manipulation, lies, and violence, they had achieved the impossible. While for most, it was a mere dream that any paltry creature could envision in their inebriated ramblings, for X, it was destiny.
*
“Thank you for your assistance that day,” expressed the human, settling uneasily onto one of the flower-chairs that unnerved him.
“There’s no need to thank me, Lord Jarailo. I must admit, I suspected you a little...,” stated Lai’Seili, calmer after days of distress.
“Understandable, and yet... you were there, hoping I was innocent. You may deny it, but I saw the concern in your eyes, though you were not preoccupied with your deceased husband, peace... be... upon him.”
“What are you insinuating?”
Jarailo chuckled. “Nothing, my dear Lai’Seili.”
“Are you laughing at my expense?”
“This... hot-and-cold attitude does you no good. You are elegant and refined,” remarked Lord Jarailo, rising from his seat and approaching her. He dropped to one knee, capturing her gaze as he took her hand in his and pressed his lips to it. Without releasing her hand, he continued, “Soft... fragile, yet beneath lies a contagious inner strength. Now that you are free from the burden of your heavy shackles, what will my dear Lai’Seili do, I wonder?”
She caressed his cheek with her right hand. “Please, stand.”
He obliged.
She rose to her feet as well, standing closely before him.
“Why did you release let my hand?” inquired Lai’Seili.
“Because...” He cupped her cheeks with both hands. “This is a far better use for them.” With that, he drew her face towards his own. Their lips met, causing her eyes to widen as a word formed on her tongue. Her initial frown softened, replaced by a sensation twisting her spirit. In that fleeting moment, she surrendered to the burgeoning excitement within her—a feeling that had eluded her for as long as she could remember, a passion borne this day, a heat she hadn’t known existed, a push to live, to exist now, consequences be damned.
Her hands roamed his body, exploring the contours beneath his clothes. A long-forgotten sensation surge inside her at the touch of the male form, electrifying her own, and then she found it—the rod of god, thunder, and joy. Their kisses led to loosened garments, their surroundings a room adorned with statues, lush foliage, and exquisite elven craftsmanship. Whether against the walls, upon the bed, intertwined with each other, or with each thrust, they succumbed to lust and an ever-increasing ecstasy that defied reason and elevated reckless behavior—in bed and out of it, in life and death, reveling in the feeling of being alive still, not death yet. The heart and the once-frozen blood, flowing once more.
Seated on the bed against the wall, her medium-sized breasts rising and falling with each breath, her ivory skin glowing, and her golden hair cascading around her calm expression, Lai’Seili rested. With each exhale and inhale, she relished this moment of lucidity after hours of relentless passion, savoring these fleeting emotions.
“This changes nothing,” declared firmly Lai’Seili.
“So be it,” replied Jarailo, lying back on the bed and staring at the foliage growing out of the ceiling. “And yet... it does changes things.”
“I still have my children and my family name. Nothing can come between that.”
Turning to face her, Lord Jarailo sought her eyes. “We just had sex, not invaded a country. What do you fear? Elven society?”
Her silence conveyed what words could not.
“I’m a gentleman, and my lips are sealed.”
Her eyes darted until they met his. “Is this merely... pleasure to you?”
“It is pleasure, but not only that. It’s two souls seeking each other and finding themselves... in each kiss, in every thrust...”
She flushed. “Don’t speak in such a manner! I’m still—”
“Luz’sa En’terra Lai’Seili Fylso Lynya. I know, but here, where no one can see or hear us, you and I can be sincere and speak freely.”
“There’s some truth to your words...”
“And yet, I empathize with you. Elven society... it can be unforgiving to those who defy its unspoken rules. I know, it’s the same in every society.”
“Even among humans?”
“Especially among humans...” Lord Jarailo leaned back against the wall. “Speaking of which, tensions between humans and elves remain high. Are you aware of any progress on this matter?”
“I don’t have much information, but there have been recent developments in our Kingdom. A new Protector has been appointed to Silifran,” she revealed.
“Really? It’s only been a few days since your husband’s passing.”
“It’s to be expected. With two commanders and a general lost... What transpired threatens our way of life. To quell the fear and project strength, the High Court and the High King have taken decisive and swift actions,” explained Lai’Seili.
“Do you have any idea who the new Protector might be?”
“Not even a rumor. It’s been kept tightly under wraps—a genuine secret, even among us elves. It must be someone of significant importance for such secrecy. Regardless, we’ll soon find out. The Protector is expected to arrive in two or three weeks, although reinforcements for the city will arrive earlier.”
“Well, whoever it is, I hope they can restore order to the region. It’s sorely needed.”
“I share that hope— ah” Lai’Seili gasped as Jarailo’s finger traced circles on her shoulder and descended to her breasts. “What are you doing?”
“The same as you,” murmured Lord Jarailo. His fingers lingered on her nipples before moving lower. “Living.”
*
The Federation seized the opportunity presented by the temporary authority vacuum among the elves to establish smuggling routes through the porous borders of both human and elven territories. Del’vhario’s new flagship product had yet to circulate. They first sought to solidify their base, ensuring well-established smuggling routes and bribing the right people in key positions. X also waited to observe the interactions among the other leaders, identifying any cracks in their system. With years of experience, he had developed an eye for snitches and traitors.
The shocks that rippled through elven society lingered for quite some time. Their economy suffered as the elves, fearing war, kept to themselves. However, with each passing day, the worst began to dissipate along with their deepest fears.
On the thirtieth day since the General’s demise, a wave of commotion blazed through Silifran. The news of the impending arrival of the new Protector of Silifran raised the city’s spirits, igniting a flurry of speculation and discussion. While the identity of the new appointee remained shrouded in mystery, rumors abounded, ranging from the possibility of a dark elf to someone from the High Council.
In anticipation of the event, Silifran’s steward orchestrated a grand feast and carnival that spanned the streets of the inner rings. Even the outer rings partook in some of the festivities. Following the elves’ efforts to quell the unrest among the kinhayas, sparked by the revelations of the Lanaen Band and its alleged ties to the elven authorities, Silifran’s political caste dedicated time and resources to appease the restive outer ring’s populace and to celebrate the end of the outer ring’s restoration. The impending arrival of the newly appointed guardian of the city further contributed to stabilizing the situation in the border city.
On the 7th sun cycle of the 3rd era of the Goddess Syl’vi’na, the long-awaited Silifran’s new Protector finally arrived. Inside Silifran’s palace, located in the inner ring of Silifran where tradition intertwined with opulence to give rise to the unique elven culture, festivities began.
“Lord Jarailo... What a surprise,” remarked Val’lay, his voice and expression betraying no surprise as he held a cup of azilao in his left hand.
“I was invited by...”
“Lai’Seili... I presume.”
“If you already knew, why ask?” questioned Lord Jarailo.
Val’lay smiled. “I wasn’t certain, that’s all. And regarding the... incident in the barracks after the General’s passing...”
“Water under the bridge.”
“You’re too forgiving... and I trust this means you’ll continue to provide us with information once the Protector arrives.”
“Without a doubt. I’m starting to feel like Silifran is my city too. I want to help.”
“Let’s raise our cups to that,” proposed Val’lay, lifting his cup. “To the High King!”
“For all of us, beneath the stars and the moons,” responded Lord Jarailo, joining in the toast.
After the toast, Val’lay proceeded with his scheduled meetings, convening with several prominent figures gathered in anticipation of the Protector’s descent from the grand staircase leading into the highest point of Silifran’s palace.
While most conversations in this chamber unfolded in elven, Lord Jarailo, having spent extensive time among the elves, had begun to grasp several words and glean the general meaning of simple exchanges.
Contrary to expectations, the conference room hosted important figures from various races. As allies to the elves in countering the growing human threat, they also awaited the arrival of the new Protector with nervous anticipation—the one everyone expected to bring peace to the border, lest the drums of war reverberated once more in these lands.
“I see you’re enjoying yourself, Lord Jarailo.”
“Lai’Seili, how can I not? Your kin have spared no expenses.” Lord Jarailo glanced around, noting the opulence oozing from every corner of the chamber. “I intend to take full advantage of your hospitality,” he added, raising his cup.
“By all means, make the most of it. Today, we allow it.”
Their exchanged smile held a shared understanding, concealing a poignant secret. In these turbulent days, they had been busy finding in each other a reason to be and feel alive.
“Has the Protector arrived?” inquired the human Lord.
“I believe so...” Lai’Seili sighed wearily. “I’ve been so busy with my own family matters that I haven’t been keeping up with the kingdom’s affairs. The funeral arrangement, the ensuing record-keeping, and... attending to my children. Even if I didn’t love their father, they did, and... it’s been a challenging time for them.”
“Are they here with you?”
“Supposedly, yes, but I haven’t seen them. They’re likely with their friends.”
“It’s good to see you smiling.”
She offered a faint smile and nodded. “And what—”
Her words were interrupted by sudden fanfare of music and military instruments.
“The Protector has arrived!” echoed the announcer’s voice, causing a hush to fall over the room. “Behold, the new Protector of Silifran!”
Descending from the tallest spire of Silifran’s palace emerged a fallen angel, risen from the ashes of the incident that left a smoldering crater on the Elven Kingdom’s psyche. Clad in an elegant and resplendent azure gown, her cascading tresses transitioned from fiery ember to cool amber, framing her countenance. Her beautiful and ethereal presence, marked by her striking breasts barely contained by the fabric, offered no respite, as if she descended from the heavens themselves, beautiful and ethereal—the High Princess of the Elven Kingdom.
Every elf present, along many esteemed guests, gasped at the sight, bowing their heads in deference to royalty.
“High Princess Balian’da Vai Ruianne Lysyla Ka’Mersh’Rujj! Daughter of our revered High King Hass’yl Bela’kya Parrynka Lysyla Ka’Mersh Kyleih and heir to the throne of our noble lineage! High Princess Balian’da Vai Ruianne Lysyla Ka’Mersh’Rujj has set aside her former pursuits, her calling as a priestess of the Sacred Elffen Heart Temple, and relinquished her title as Delia’ilu of the Sacred Elffen Heart, answering the call to return to her royal duties. She has taken it upon herself to lead us, elves of Silifran, to better, more prosperous, calmer, and new days!”
For many present, this marked their first encounter with her since the events at Saint Jaulea, while for the rest, it was their initial introduction altogether. Her presence commanded reverence, capturing the attention of all in the room. Yet, the elves quickly noticed a difference—she was the High Princess Ruianne, but she had changed.
Her demeanor, her mannerisms, even her gait, bearing a barely perceptible limp—a legacy from her time at Saint Jaulea, courtesy of X’s betrayal—testified to her altered self. Most striking of all was the change in her physical appearance. Her right arm, unnaturally stiff, was concealed beneath garments that covered it from fingertips to shoulder, while her eyes bore a permanent scar that slashed across her face from side to side, rendering her blind. Thus, a new, transformed Ruianne descended into their midst.
The acknowledgment of these changes, this indignity inflicted upon an elven royal, cast a somber shadow over the chamber. Tears filled the eyes of most elves, for the royal line had been tainted in such an evil manner.
“My kin, I stand before you! For all of you! Don’t mourn what has happened, instead, rejoice for what is to come—a golden age for the elves!”
With her words resonating deeply in the hears of her subjects, a roar erupted within the commonly tranquil chamber, from this usually serene race. Infusing her kin with strength and confidence, even amid adversity, Ruianne roused his kin from the depths to which their spirits had descended.
Emerging from the dark abyss she had inhabited for many months, Ruianne had finally found her voice. Over a year had passed since the harrowing incident, her time at Saint Jaulea disfigured not only her body but also her spirit. From the gargantuan void of depression, wanting nothing to do with the world, she had risen to this moment. Revenge lived in her heart, and disorder in her mind. Though still suffering the lingering effects of her ordeal, she had arisen with one goal in mind, one voice rising above all others. Amid all her targets, one figure loomed largest in her mind: the one who betrayed her and all the others, both survivors and those who didn’t make it, who had fallen to darkness—the redheaded elf of her nightmares.
When X recognized his handiwork on Ruianne, he merely smiled. The game was on. His executioner had come for his soul. His empire pitted against hers, his prowess and resourcefulness set against the hatred festering in her heart and the revenge he knew she had kept bottled up all this time until finally she could no longer hold it in check.
A clash of two beings in a spiral of violence, naiveté, and fate, each seeking to repay blood with blood. She would no longer relent nor doubt, while X carried on growing his Empire of Dust, his tentacles reaching far and wide, preparing for their destined confrontation.
Two lives, as different as the clear heavens from the bowels of hell, locked in a relentless dance echoing through generations. This confrontation would decide the destiny not only of these two souls but of all. The gears of destiny had begun to turn again, leading everyone onto paths they never knew existed.
Within the unfolding tragedy lay a clamor of the ages—to right a wrong, to punish the ones who err. Amidst the gruesome battle of consciousnesses, a prophecy: ‘Wherever conscious minds wander, a spiritual path, and the agony of thought’. Past, present, future and other worlds, colliding.
- VOLUME 4 END -