In their spaceship assigned by Aldred, Elralya and Cellaeth exchanged bewildered glances as an ethereal form materialized before them. The figure emanated a profound, otherworldly energy, and a sense of reverence filled the air.
Cellaeth, gripping her spear with a warrior's instinct, questioned, "Elralya, is this some kind of illusion or magic?"
Elralya, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and recognition, responded, "No illusion can conjure the presence of our great ancestor. This is beyond any magic I know."
The ethereal form spoke, its voice echoing with wisdom that transcended time. "Elralya, Cellaeth, warriors of the elven kin. The fate of our people rests on your shoulders."
Cellaeth, though formidable in battle, felt a tinge of uncertainty. "What do you mean? How can we shape the fate of our people?"