Excerpt:
Elianor
Our footsteps echoed through a vast hall that seemed carved from marble, but it was dull and gray. As we ascended the stairs, elves passed by, murmuring and glancing sideways at me, unable to comprehend my presence. Soon, we reached a long corridor where distant music permeated, and as we entered another grand room, the music ceased, and silence took hold.
From the far end of the hall, a person raised a hand. The elves began to clear the space, leaving very few of us. My vision blurred, and I stretched out my arm searching for a wall to lean on. Fear momentarily gripped me, but something told me all was well, that what was happening was not dangerous.
"I can't see anything," I said, blindly seeking support from the nearest elf.
"I'm not a walking stick," Kaelithiel replied, turning to see me clutching his arm.
"Sorry," I quickly released him.
"Brother!" a thin, elongated man approached with a mocking smile. "Good to see you again in our home."
"Don't touch me," Kael growled, nodding for him to stop his embrace.
"And who is this lovely Lady?" he asked, turning to me. He paused, then added, "Such strength, so much faith... where does it come from, my lady?"
"I doubt she came here to bare her soul before strangers," I replied, more ironically than intended.
"Spicy," he chuckled softly, arching his brows. "I am Thaelendis, Kael's elder brother. I see you've already encountered my little brother's rough nature."
"Lady Daronen, a true pleasure to meet you," the elf said humbly, his voice deeper than Liendel's.
"The pleasure is mine," I bowed my head.
"Kaelithiel, my son... so many decades without even approaching home," his tone grew more stern.
"I've been compelled to sweeten the halls of Vanir with my presence," Kael retorted arrogantly.
"You bring news that urgently needs sharing," a voice from the hall's depths spoke.
The lights dimmed, and the usual glow was replaced by an orange vision of two elves seated, their eyes veiled, noses and mouths visible but their eyes obscured.
"This woman came from the eastern lands," one said. "She claims the realm of men fell to the Draco, now ruled by another house that took their place."
"Such things happen every century, though this time it has taken longer," responded the other, seeming disinterested. "What is different now?"
"She is here to show you," the first retorted, "for I do not believe her words, and she was found with Nivrald dust upon crossing." His gaze hardened, hostility returning.
"Lady Draconen, may I?" the other asked gently.
He stood, taller than the elves we had been with. Later, it was clear his body was immense yet slender.
"I mean no harm, only a brief inquiry into her mind," he reached toward my face.
The king bowed slightly, touching my forehead. At first, it was a light brush, like a feather's caress, then my mind opened in a whirlwind of images. I again saw the plains with ill Kael, the meadows, and the dreams haunting me, Darethion's fall into my arms. It all passed in a flash, as if my life rewound before me.
I wanted to pull away, but my muscles failed. Then I felt the pressure—not his hand, but his will—tearing memories like a hurricane tears leaves from a tree.
"Enough," I thought, though unsure if aloud.
The white mist thickened, and I felt myself sinking as if into water. Then came the king's voice—deep, calm, yet stone-hard.
"Your soul is marked by fire and blood. The dragons have touched you more than you admit."
His presence expanded within me, suffocatingly. Then I felt a small but firm spark of will rise against his. A flicker amidst the storm. I clung to the memory of Darethion—not his death but his smile before departure, the faith he left me.
The king pushed with the force of centuries, but I did not fully yield. I sensed a doubt, a fleeting hesitation, as if unprepared for resistance.
A crack opened in the vision; the mist broke, revealing his lips pursed beneath the veil. He did not completely defeat me. Finally, he saw my struggle and escape from the Nivraldir and my flight from the castle, alongside the dragon's roar.
I nearly collapsed upon regaining breath, legs trembling but upright. He slowly withdrew his hand.
"Interesting," he said, and for the first time, his voice carried more humanity than air.
Once the probing ended, he gazed at me curiously. I didn't understand his look until the room spun and tilted sideways. My eyes closed.
Kaelithiel
When she began to stagger, I instinctively caught her side to prevent a fall onto the hard marble, which would have been severe. My father looked at me as if witnessing something strange in me, and I soon realized this wouldn't have happened at any other time or perhaps with any other human.
"What's wrong with her?" I asked my father. "Did she faint?"
"No, I induced a restorative sleep. She is exhausted, and confronting me would have overwhelmed any other human," he looked at her long and said with surprise...
"Not me..." my father seemed pleased to have seen a human after so long.
"Were you punished by the Wind's judgment? Something you have not overcome, my son," Kaelethol spoke gravely.
I gently laid Elianor on the ground; she seemed more fragile than usual. She had faced my father's scrutiny and still stood firm. Her willpower must be immense—only ancient kings passed the test without succumbing.
"If you prefer to ignore my question..." my father slowly walked to her, his step solemn as one who carries centuries on his back. "No, it was not easy. She holds something even she cannot decipher. And tell me, Kaelithiel, how could I understand what even its bearer does not?"
A group of elves approached to make Elianor comfortable. They helped her sit on a feathered chair and left her there resting in the elven sleep, protected by my father. This time, she would not have nightmares and could sleep peacefully.
"What do you make of all this?" I asked, recalling everything Elianor had told me.
My father looked at me with the calm of an oak that has braved a thousand storms.
"Men seldom call upon our doors without reason. Their arrival is no accident but a warning. The Nivrald do not wander without purpose; they are harbingers of a change we have yet to fully see. Listen well, Kaelithiel: when the ancient peoples move, the whole world trembles."
Soft footsteps echoed on the marble. Fendriel appeared, from the lesser Elenvar line, among the few still maintaining bonds with human realms. He bowed respectfully, but his words were direct.
"A few years ago, in our last contact with the brotherhood in human territory," he recalled, "around twenty-five years past, a man told us they prospered—no famine, no plague, no war signs. Yet, the Nivraldir emerged. It is not their nature to roam aimlessly. There is a hidden purpose."
My father listened gravely, eyes full of ancient wisdom that needed no words to impose.
"The Nivraldir's alchemy is a poison even our kind cannot fully resist," Kaelethol said in a deep voice. "Where they mix their fire with the earth's essence, spirits rot, and even elven purity can be broken. We must not ignore this. If unhalted now, this will be the great war of the century... perhaps the era."
"I don't see the situation as before. Our borders are strong and guarded. No Nivrald or human beyond this one has appeared. The dragons in the western mountains sleep deeply; centuries will pass before they wake." I recalled my last journey’s visits. "The deer of Sylrion are calm."
"The last time our lineage failed to answer humans' needs, we believed we granted them independence, and their souls perished in Markhosh's ruins," he said, darkening as he mentioned the name. "And how many elven lives have we lost by that decision? We may be wise, but even the wisest err, and that makes us what we are."
A heavy silence fell, thickening the room's air. My mother rose from the throne, her voice solemn as ancient chants.
"Do not forget what lies at all roots," Eryndrael said softly from her seat. "Velkorin, Vaelerin’s second son, forged men and dragons with the same eternal spark. They are branches of the same fire, though centuries have separated them..."
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