The staircase, he finds, curves ever so slightly as it tunnels into the depths of the earth. The glow of the fires barely illuminates the passageway, and though Mordecai can see just fine, he doubts a living human would fare as well.

When he finally reaches the bottom, he finds himself in a massive cavern. The ceiling arches up into darkness, creating a pitch black sky. From the base of the staircase, a cobbled road runs over a bridge spanning a deep chasm and continues on into a row of buildings that form the border of an underground city.

Mordecai hesitates. It doesn’t seem wise to venture into civilization alone, but the source of the dark magic is so close, he feels as though he could reach out and touch it.

His footsteps echo as he enters the city. The buildings nearest the staircase are mostly squat, one-story tall brick squares, but as he walks further in, they begin to grow taller, more elaborate. There are no plants visible but for the sparse hardy weeds that poke through the cobble. All the windows are dark, but the roads are still lit by lanterns containing those blue-purple fires. He passes by one that’s fallen to the ground, the glass shattered and anything that would have been a fuel source long gone, but the flame still burns in the dented frame.

A rat squeaks somewhere, scavenging for food. In the shadow of an alleyway, he watches an ambulatory fungus wander out of a tipped-over barrel. There are no sounds of people.

With some relief, Mordecai realizes that this city is abandoned.

Continuing straight on the main road leads him to a plaza. The buildings surrounding it all have signs indicating that they were once shops, and the centerpiece is another statue. Mordecai approaches warily, but it doesn’t move.

This statue is more detailed than the ones up at the entrance. Whereas the guard statues had featureless faces that only gave the impression of being elven, the plaza statue is rendered in realistic detail. Blue crystal eyes gaze into the distance, a smile faintly gracing its lips, arms extended to some invisible object as its robes billow around it in a nonexistent breeze.

A small plaque sits on the statue’s base, and as Mordecai nears it, he realizes it isn’t even attached. He lifts it from its place and though it’s nothing but a thin sheet of metal bolted to an inch-thick square of rock, it’s prohibitively heavy. As he tries to read what’s inscribed on it, he’s disappointed to find that it’s in Elvish.

He sets the plaque back down, and realizes that the presence he’s been following is right behind him just half a second before it speaks.

“On toward a better life, and a happier future.”

Mordecai whirls around, startled. There behind him, leaning against a lantern post, is an elf. He looks at Mordecai with a mildly amused grin, eyebrow quirked curiously.

A tense moment passes where both parties wait for the other to attack, or twitch, or do something.

The elf gestures past Mordecai. “That’s what it says on the plaque.”

“Oh.” Mordecai warily takes his eyes off the elf to glance up at the stone figure. “Is that the name of the statue?”

“Hm, no, I don’t believe so.” The elf slowly straightens from his reclined position. “I believe that’s a message from the inhabitants of this city to…well, whoever finds it, I suppose.”

The elf takes a cautious step toward Mordecai. Mordecai eyes him, on guard. He’s never had a good experience with an elf. Not that he can remember, anyway.

“I’m not going to attack you,” the elf says, hands splayed in a show of peace. Mordecai realizes that his hand is resting on the hilt of his knife. Embarrassed, he drops it to his side and lets the elf approach.

“What is this place, anyway? Why is it abandoned?”

The elf pauses to gawk at him. “You don’t know where you are?” he asks incredulously

Mordecai falters. “Uh…no?”

As if coming out of a stupor, the elf composes himself, clearing his throat. “Ehem, well. You know of the five major elven cities, right?” He continues on without waiting for a response. “Mirion-El, the High elves. Galadhil, the Wood elves. Borea Losshe, which only Snow elves have seen. And of course, Lith’thas and Elunore, which now stand empty.”

“I think I remember that….” The elven cities definitely sound familiar. And though he can’t remember whether he knows it from a book or word of mouth, the mysterious disappearance of the Light and Dark elves does as well. “So then this is…?”

The elf sweeps his arm out to indicate the abandoned city around them. “Welcome to Elunore, the city of the Dark elves.”

“But…” Mordecai scans the elf in front of him. His skin is pale, almost sickly-looking, but not the dusky gray of a Dark elf’s. Dark elves were also said to have black hair and, typically, dark blue eyes. This one’s hair falls to his shoulders in straight, silken platinum blond, while his eyes are a steely gray. “…You’re not a Dark elf,” he concludes.

“I am not,” the elf replies cordially.

“Do you live here?” Mordecai asks.

The elf laughs as though he’d just told a joke. “I don’t ‘live’ anywhere,” he states. “Much in the same way you don’t.”

It takes Mordecai a moment to parse what he means by that. Then he remembers that this elf is the source of the powerful dark magic aura he’d followed from all the way out in the woods. “You’re…undead?” he asks cautiously.

“That I am,” the elf replies with a toothy grin that shows off elongated canines with a point that could pierce rock.

Mordecai is suddenly very happy that he has no blood.

“So,” he starts, lowering the hood of his cowl. “…What are you doing here then?”

The elf perks up, turning to dig into a pack at his side. He pulls something from it and shows it to Mordecai triumphantly. “Looting!”

Mordecai looks from the elf to the object in his hands, baffled. “…Looting…books?”

“Of course,” the elf replies, gesturing to the book he’s holding. “Elunore’s library is famous, you know. Thousands of books, containing all kinds of arcane secrets. Many of them are quite valuable.”

“Like…Enhance your Plants: 1001 Ways to Beautify your Elven Glade?”

The elf appears taken aback by that. He brushes it off quickly, though, stuffing the book back into his bag. “Well, an elf’s got to have a hobby.”

Once the elf has the book put away and the bag slung up over his shoulder, he rounds on Mordecai with a fascinated gleam in his eyes. “My turn to ask questions now. What,” he begins, scanning Mordecai, “is a human skeleton doing wearing elven armor?”

Mordecai is struck frozen by the twin realizations that a) the elf might be offended by him wearing Rhoth’s clothes and b) he’d called him a skeleton.

“I…” he falters, unsure if he should be preparing for a fight or not, “It was the only thing that fit.”

The elf nods. “Makes sense,” he states, still eyeing Mordecai but with an air of contemplation now. “If you didn’t even know about the elven cities, then you must have…” he pauses, then looks Mordecai dead in the eyes with a mischievous grin, “…lost a lot of weight recently.”

A joke. Jokes are probably a good sign. Mordecai chuckles thinly.

“Second question…actually, I think I already know the answer to this one. You’re here in Elunore because you followed my aura?”

“Yeah.”

He nods. “Lucky you. Most humans won’t ever see the elven cities. Typically only other elves and especially magically-inclined humans can find them.”

Mordecai remembers this from the books he read when he was still alive. The elven cities are all hidden to keep humans and other rabble from wandering in. Elves don’t often take kindly to non-elves.

“And now my third question!” The elf flourishes at Mordecai. “Do you have a name?”

“…Mordecai,” he answers, and sticks his hand out because he doesn’t know what else to do.

The elf shakes his hand with a smile. “Aurelius.”

“So!” says Aurelius. “I take it you’re literate?”

“Er, yes?”

Aurelius leans in like a child excited to play with a new friend. “Would you like to see the library?”