Chapter 23: Ch:23 She Who Was Stolen
Night had fallen over the ancient city of Eldor, the hidden stronghold of the elven kingdom veiled in illusion and moonlight. The air was cold, carrying the faint scent of mist and the subtle rustle of enchanted trees that lined the marble walkways. From above, the silver light moon bathed the tall spires in an eerie glow. Within the grand palace, everything was silent—eerily silent.
Inside the Throne Hall, the flicker of blue fire danced from crystalline sconces along the walls. Shadows crawled across the floor of smooth obsidian, and the chamber echoed with an oppressive stillness, save for the soft hum of ambient enchantments that resonated in the corners of the high domed ceiling.
At the far end of the hall sat the Elven King, draped in robes of woven starlight and midnight silk. His long silver hair framed a face carved from stone and shadow—cold, calculating, with eyes that glowed faintly blue, shimmering with old magic and deeper fury. He sat upon a throne not of gold, but of polished roots entwined with moonstone, pulsing softly with life.
A sound echoed through the hall—footsteps.
And then... a kneel.
One figure dropped to one knee at the base of the steps, his cloak trailing behind like torn ink. The masked elf, now without the mask, bowed low, his head dripping with sweat despite the coolness of the night.
He swallowed before speaking.
"Umm... my King..."
His voice was a whisper. Hollow. Hiding trembling nerves under a veil of forced calm.
The king did not move. His fingers rested calmly on the arm of his throne. Only his voice stirred the room.
"...What did you do in Exonory Kingdom?"