⛨Prologue⛨

Greymor 2 Domasinad Hirschjahr 51, Castle Dorne

In the depths of a secluded chamber, veiled in darkness, a figure sits in her cushioned regal chair at a grand oak table, remnants of her previous meal still there. Soft candlelight flickers, casting dancing shadows across the room as the figure delicately sips from her porcelain teacup.

Beside her stands her trusted elven maid, her slightly pointed ears and elegant ebony axis antlers on display, both testaments to her mystical heritage. With utmost deference, her head remains lowered to not offend her lady. As the figure places her teacup on the table, the maid diligently begins tidying up the scattered dishes and cloth napkins. With meticulous care, she swiftly restores order to the chaotic mess on the table.

“Thank you, Anaka. You may be excused.” The figure sternly utters a hint of disdain for the poor girl hidden in her voice. As Anaka leaves the chamber, tray in hand, she is surprised as she almost bumps into a slender middle-aged man entering.

Holding the door open for her, he moves past and secures the entry, ensuring he and the figure have privacy. As he approaches, it is apparent that his steps are measured and precise, each movement a careful calculation yet graceful just the same. The atmosphere around him resonates with an air of calm authority rarely seen in men his age.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” he greets her, his voice carrying a hint of reverent excitement.

“Otwin? What do I owe this surprising visit? You seem far too busy these days; I’d almost forgotten you were in my service.” She jests, awaiting his response.

Smiling, he moves closer and responds, “I believe one of my apprentices may have found something, Your Majesty.”

She leans forward in her seat, only showing her eyes in the room's lights, curiosity gleaming within them. Extending her hand, he pulls out a dusty, torn-up old tome from inside his robes. Placing it into her awaiting grasp, he watches as, with practiced ease, she opens it and scans the worn book’s contents.

Confusion quickly settles upon her as she inquires, “Otwin? What exactly am I looking at?”

With a sense of satisfaction, he responds, “The very thing you asked me for all those years ago,” pausing, he looks into her eyes with a look of exhilaration, suggesting she explore the secrets within, “that, now, rests in your hands.”

Her eyes widen as she leans back into the darkness, “This couldn’t have come at a better time; it is exactly what we needed.” Murmuring, her voice is laced with excitement and a strange sense of determination as she commends him for his diligent duty, a rare thing from her, indeed. “Good job, Otwin. This will truly give us the edge we seek if those rumors have any merit to them, to begin with.”

Pondering, she traces over the images and words on the pages with her fingertips. Otwin reaches out toward the book, interrupting her thoughts. Grasping it, he declares, “I will begin deciphering it immediately, Your Majesty.” Nodding, she leans forward into the light, revealing a disfigured face with a large scar running down its left side, from her forehead, through her eye, down to her chin.

As she hands him the book, the wheels of fate begin turning, setting in motion a chain of events that would profoundly shape the lives of many in two worlds. Among those affected, two particular souls would experience the most remarkable transformation, their destinies inexorably bound together by the unfolding tale.

✦Alexander✦

✧Maho✧

⛨The Narrator⛨