The determination to see a glorious fate for the elves blazed in Elaris' eyes. His hunched back straightened, and his shaking hands firmed around his staff. He walked to stand by Sylvie, his features full of righteousness.
"I'm at your service, Queen Sylvie the First. Allow this old mage to see Elden rise from its scattered ashes."
As his words carried his dreams, the noble council faltered. Sylvie's powers already overwhelmed their makeshift resistance, and only Elaris could balance the odds. But he joined her side?
"May our ancestors curse you from Helheim, traitor!"
The nobles cursed him, yet venting didn't alleviate the despair settling in their hearts. They were all mages, but in front of them stood two adepts—one of whom wielded unusually potent and ancient magic.
Meanwhile, a crow's caws reverberated in Adam's mind as he tilted his head in confusion.
"Bart? What's going on?"