Urgost was slouched at his desk. He wasn’t sure how long exactly he had zoned out for, trying his best to ignore Emirial who just wouldn’t stop talking. He was ranting about something that he seemed disgusted by and loudly too, but Urgost wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to his friend. How could he, after all that had happened?

The door opened in front of him and he looked up, his servant entered with more of that delicious elderberry wine, although he was quite sure Emirial had drank more than enough.

“…and that’s why we should stop her now!” Emirial stated with cold calculation, who hadn’t ever cared much for the High priestess. Urgost looked down at him. He also didn’t care much about her either, one of the reasons they had bonded closely over recent years. The door shut quietly at the other side of the room as she left.

“It wasn’t her,” Urgost responded dryly. “Watch what and who you say things in front of. Daiyra is loyal, but you never know who she might say something to. It could be a friend or a relative, and then rumours circulate.” His eyes narrowed in warning.

“We have a confession from the perpetrator and a letter of proof to show it was her,” came the reply. Had the wine meddled his thinking, surely he couldn’t be as stupid as this? It had all been too perfect. The culprit found within half an hour of the incident. The perfectly signed letter, bearing the high priestess’ seal, just sitting on the dining room table where the culprit was apprehended.

“You don’t believe that it was her, do you? She has hated me for hundreds of years, but she would never dare…and if by chance she did, do you think she would be so reckless about it?” he scoffed.

“No but…”

“Exactly,” Urgost said, sharper than he intended. “Where is the letter?”

“I placed in the vault for its safety.” At least the wine hadn’t meddled his mind too much, Urgost scoffed again anyway. A scraping sound filled the room as he slid his chair backwards, rising to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Emirial said. Urgost looked at him, realizing that he had been slurring his words for quite some time and looked completely drained.

“To see her. Stay here or go home. The choice is yours.”

“I’m coming with you.” Emirial made to get up but collapsed and fell back onto the chair. Urgost simply glared at him before shaking his head and leaving the room.

Quickly relieving himself in the bathroom, he headed to his bedroom and adorned his elegant purple robe with that golden flowery trim he liked, sheathing one of his thin curved blades at his right side, leaving only the red gem encrusted pommel protruding.

Walking over to his display case, he carefully opened the opaque unit and stared down at the crowns situated before him. On the left, his battle crown, the only one that was in perfect condition, it hadn’t been used from the day it was forged for him seven hundred years ago. It was smaller than the central crown with only a few gems encrusted on the surface, practical. On the right was his white wooden ceremonial crown, used for special or festive occasions, it was much bigger than he liked and heavier than even the golden war crown.

As always, he opted for the central one and descended his staircase to reach outside and head towards the vault.

The fresh morning air hit him hard as a gust of wind blew forward, billowing his robe around him. It wasn’t until then that he realized the stench of the wine had smothered the very air around him. He uttered a few words to dissipate the smell quickly.

“Good morning,” said one of the guards, the others jumped to attention.

“Stay here,” he muttered in his way of greeting.

Though the streets were still tranquil, he walked a little to make sure he wasn’t being followed and then double backed on himself to head out the western edges of the city, glancing back regularly to make sure no one was there.

The elven lights brightened the eternal city to signal that the morning had just begun. Urgost looked around the edges of Athaldris and could hear the crashing waterfall far in the distance. He removed a small strip of purple cloth, quickly tying it around his eyes.

He took a deep breath and again until he had drowned out all other noises, the only thing that mattered was his being. He could feel his heart beating that perfect rhythm in his chest, the cool air caressing his slender figure, his perfect, unwavering breaths.

As if by an invisible hand, he could feel himself being pulled forward, between hills, through forests, over roots until the sound of the waterfall was now barely audible. He didn’t have to worry about tripping, he had made this journey hundreds of times before but never remembering the path he took. Surrendering himself entirely to his invisible guide.

The sound of the woodland creatures around him came into focus, signalling he was almost there. Soaking in the noise from the animals all around him the pull on him lessoned before disappearing completely. The blindfold fell to the ground at his feet by its own accord revealing an ancient doorway.

The door was utterly bland, hidden by the foliage of nearby trees and bushes. Its dark green colour blended in well to its surroundings as it backed onto a small hill. There were no handles on the door, and it was held firmly shut.

Urgost walked up to it, placing his palm against the forever warm wood. He could feel the door pulsing with energy, watching him, studying him, deciding if he was worthy to enter and see the secrets it held. He knew he was, it had never stopped him before.

There were only three elves alive that knew this place even existed: himself, Emirial and Lilith, his aunt. Magic didn’t work here; it was guided by some other forgotten force. Urgost made sure his aunt seen to that when he had constructed the fortress. The only way to enter was not wanting to steal anything from inside or needing to know what was here, which he didn’t. He already knew since every item in here was placed between the three of them.

There was a faint clicking noise that made his ears perk upwards as the door slowly unlocked itself, swinging outwards. He took a few steps forward and the door closed silently behind him as if it was never even open to begin with. He had already forgotten what the outside looked like.

Even his elven eyes couldn’t see inside because of the intense blackness of it all. His magic was already wearing thin as this place withdrew it from his body, piece by piece.

When his aunt had first placed the wards here to trap all magic and remove it from its owner he had entered thinking it was some small trick. Instead what greeted him was so intense his very soul seemed to be ripped from his body, he retched and was sick, wanting nothing more than to run. Run, far, far away from this place and never return.

The effect had lessened through time, and it was barely more than a headache now. Although, he still felt empty without magic coursing through his veins.

Since construction, his aunt dwelled in this place day and night, protecting it from any who would find it, not that it had ever happened. It had been hundreds of years since he had seen her, but he could feel her presence deep within the earth. She was here, she was always here.

He turned to face the back of the door then moved to the right-hand side corner and pulled down on a small lever. A low rumbling sound began as it always did and continued for a couple minutes. The noise which used to make him feel uneasy was merely an annoyance now.

This place was the perfect defensive location or the ideal prison, depending on how you looked at it. Urgost knew of all the secrets that dwelled within, and even he wasn’t sure what he thought of it.

The noise stopped as a spark appeared to his side, golden veins appeared in the walls, which seemed to light up around him, pulsing with life. The threads were guiding his way down, down, down revealing a chasm of stairs leading to what felt like the very depths of hell. The echo of wind was the only sound around him besides his breathing as it came from somewhere deep below.

Urgost began his descent into darkness. The golden thread on the walls changed, knotting and twisting from random patterns into something else. It exposed the history of their race.

The first golden outline portrayed five small boats travelling with a dragon above. Urgost smiled, he knew the story. It was from when Queen Ferenthia first settled here with no more than thirty elves, to escape the dying lands far over the Western sea that no one had ever found since. The boats were rumoured to be guided by the goddess Aesha who had vanished after directing her kin to safer lands.

He felt his heart ache for the goddess. Some believed she gave her all to light their way and save elf-kind, others think she still does so to this day. When any shooting star travels overhead, the goddess is moving to rescue more of their brood.

That was approximately ten thousand years ago, although no one knew precisely what date any more, it was long since lost to the ages. A sense of longing welled up within him as he stopped to caress the next cave writing: the time where the gods lived amongst the elven kind as they began to flourish.

He wished with his entire being that he could have seen them, at least once. To know that there was a purpose and they weren’t just living for nothing. The golden paintings went on and on until he reached his own familiar history of saving the elves when he seized control, and it sparked him with joy to be here, to be remembered.

After that, there was simply nothing. The golden thread simply twisted and randomly travelled in all directions. They lived in peace since, nothing exciting to record but leaving plenty of room for future drawings.

The steps ended, and there he was standing in a semi-circular room with ten corridors leading away, some upstairs, some down. Some twisted out of sight. It was a labyrinth. The stone here seemed darker, and each passage had only a single thread of light, making it near impossible to see.

He knew the way though, First tunnel, second, seventh, fourth. His current age. His aunt always meddled and changed the layout of the labyrinth, although he was unsure how it was possible with magic not working here.

Urgost had always wondered what would happen if he entered here just before the stroke of midnight on his birthday, would it change or stay the same? Would it start amending itself and he could be trapped here forever? He honestly didn’t know and didn’t particularly want to find out.

He began travelling down the first corridor on the left. His hand placed firmly on the wall to guide him along until it broached into another semi-circular opening. Upstairs and downstairs he went, through small corridors and large open spaces and then followed the path again and again until he arrived.

He was greeted by a large, heavily armoured oaken door. Steel plates ran the length of it to reinforce it. Although now aged, it stood proud and strong at well over thirty feet high. He would need a battering ram to get through it and good luck getting one of those down here.

Two large braziers sat at each side of the door and had been freshly lit. The smell of the burning wood was overpowering but quickly passed, he realized that it was the first thing he had heard or smelled on his way down here.

Approaching the door, it creaked as it slowly opened inwards. He took a few steps forward as a line of braziers seemed to light themselves all the way down to the other side, revealing an endless open room. It had everything in it. From weapons, to posters and tapestries. Statues of the gods littered the room and its own library stretched far to the right, as far as he could see.

“I should have probably asked Emirial where he placed it,” Urgost swore at himself for being so stupid. Maybe the wine had meddled with him more than he let on.

He decided to turn left to the library…it was a letter after all. The bookshelves grazed the ceiling which stood over fifty feet high. It would take a lifetime to search this place and for an elf that is an exceptionally long time indeed.

His finger grazed over some of the titles nearby, history of the second age. King Vinus. The battle of Shaiyan, battle of the plains in human speech. Horde of the Damned. All titles he had read before, most of which had his own name written in abundance within them. He had led the defence at the battle of Shaiyan, defeated the horde after many bloody years and overthrown King Vinus to take control of this kingdom.

These books were his legacy.

He sighed softly, his thoughts turning to Terandriell and what was happening on the mainland. He had the same love of life Urgost had when he was young, he just didn’t understand the danger he was putting every elf in.

Deeper and deeper he travelled into the library. The elven lanterns lighting up around him enough that he could see, and automatically switching off again when he got further away from them.

He kept walking until he found the familiar small wooden desk and green cushioned chair where he had spent days at a time reading. Barely eating as he delved into ancient history or the journals from his predecessors. He was getting old, he would never even brush the surface of everything he wanted to read here.

Searching the desk, he noticed there was no letter placed in any of the drawers or even on top of the frame itself. There was however a small key that he didn’t recognize hidden under scraps of parchment. He quickly pocketed it and moved on. Maybe it opened a small chest that Emirial hid the letter in, as if this place wasn’t defence enough.

Urgost rolled his eyes and headed back towards the door he entered through so that he didn’t get lost. Even though he had been in and out of here for what felt like a thousand times it was still foreign to him. The small lights flickered out of existence behind him.

He almost felt human, now that the place had withdrawn every scrap of his power out of him, it quickly returned once he was far away from here. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even named it anything. The vault was what Emirial called it, but it was way more than that, this place, this magnificent, wonderful place.

It was something to behold, the very air reeked of power. An ancient forgotten tomb. Once all elven kind had gone from the world, this place would endure beyond the ages, timeless, beyond reckoning, untouchable. An ancient history and legacy to his people, of all elven people. They would live on through the books and stone paintings and the weapons and statues. A mausoleum of sorts. This would be all that was left come the end of time, he could feel grief taking over, tears glistened at the corner of his eyes. ”And no one will ever find it,” he said, defeated.

“We will be remembered by our deeds in the years to come.” The ancient voice echoed around him. It was soft and old but contained such ferocity Urgost wished he had his magic at hand.

“Do not fear.” Was that an order from the voice? His aunt hadn’t spoken to him for half his life, was that even her voice or something else? “We know our time draws near, but we will live on throughout history. We, the immortal few.”

“Lilith?” He asked. His voice was much quieter than intended, through fear or something else, he didn’t know.

“Sweet Nephew.” Her voice seemed to be resonating from different directions, the echoes bouncing back from the walls around him. He had no idea if she was even here, did she even have mortal form any more? How old was she exactly? Urgost could feel the touches of age, but his aunt, she was an ancient being.

“Your friend was here again, dropping a couple things off.” She seemed disinterested as if she had no cares in the world.

“A couple?” Urgost quizzed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Urgost was hoping for a bit more of an answer than that but simply waited for it to appear.

A deep sigh rumbled from all around, he could have sworn the ground was vibrating at his feet. “Some letter and a box. I believe he left a key.” Urgost felt his hand tighten around the key in his pocket, what was in the box? Why not just tell him rather than hiding it here?

He wanted to ask where the container and letter was, but after that rumble, it had made him uneasy asking anything else. He had a fairly good idea anyway so began walking to the far side of the room, taking him well over thirty minutes.

It didn’t help that he stopped at the occasional tapestry to admire them or stop to adore the masonry of the statues. A statue stood next to every second brazier along the way, standing at ten feet tall with their weapons drawn facing towards the entrance. They stood proud, these eternal warriors guarding the treasures within.

His aunt hadn’t spoken to him in hundreds of years. The last time she did, he swore the eyes of the statues followed him as he rushed out of what felt like his tomb at the time. God forbid any unfortunate soul that managed to navigate the labyrinth and get here, Lilith would destroy them piece by piece until they were but a shell of their former selves.

He reached the far end of the room. Unlike the rest of the historical undercroft, this wall was utterly devoid of any statues, pictures or anything else, just a simple wall.

He would have thought nothing of it, but since he knew better, he continued walking until he entered through the wall and it disappeared behind him. An illusion, concealing the mysteries within.

His heart always sank when he walked through. It just felt so unnatural, and as always, he had clenched his eyes shut on the way through. The memories came flooding back as he saw what lay before him. Weapon racks upon weapon racks, the most elegant blades encrusted with a multitude of gems and hieroglyphs of ancient elvish speech. The language was lost to him.

To stunningly crafted bows, made from the most beautiful Simarian wood from the old lands. Multiple staffs lay against the corners of the weapon racks, brimming with magical potential to rival that even of the gods. It was a sight to behold. There were no weapon crafters like this any more. The art lost from the destruction of their ancient civilization ten thousand years ago.

The far wall was just as spectacular as thirty gleaming suits of armour rested upon stands. They never dulled, and none of them even had a single scratch or scar on them. He knew, he had spent days checking every inch of them thoroughly. The sheer, immense, uncontainable power that flowed through this room put him in a high state. Fogging his mind down, the weapons and armour was calling him to take one and lift up arms against those who would seek to destroy elven kind.

He was almost tempted.

Urgost remembered the fear of the elves that day…The day he seized power with what remained of his army from King Vinus. A mutiny had never once been recorded in their history, but enough was enough.

The King had grown lax, and cared not for elven lives, sending them needlessly to their deaths against an impossible foe. Urgost could feel the rage building up within him at the thought. Vinus should have left his own damned home to fight for his people on the frontline. Not cower behind wooden walls across the sea.

Urgost had decreed that night, that the Elvish people would not raise up arms in defence of the humans. Not after they had begun slaughtering all Elves on sight. Especially after they had fought and died protecting the humans from the mysterious far Eastern enemy.

He paused for a second. Trying to remember the name the humans called them…he shook his head, it didn’t really matter. After all that and after overthrowing the elven King, he then rounded up every relic, artefact weapon and piece of armour. He placed them in a secret compartment under his home until this place was constructed fifty years later and they were transported here, never to be used again.

Only one weapon was ever unaccounted for, Anniella’s Bow. They searched and searched for weeks. They knew who had it. Veritas the smith, Terandriell’s father. How he hid that bow from Urgost was a fantastic feat, for there was no trace of its power echoing from any parts of the land. It had always angered him, partly why he resented Terandriell so much. He was the last of his lineage, and no doubt had that weapon hidden somewhere.

“Aren’t you going to open that box?” He spun around, trying to spot her but saw nothing. Where the hell was she? As if by reading his thoughts. “I am everywhere.” The voice came from the room he was standing in, and he spun around again, but nothing. There was no one.

Was the lack of magic meddling his mind? Infuriated he walked over to the table at the side of the room and collected the letter. Reaching his hand into his pocket, he removed the small key and moved to the left slightly to unlock the long box. A note was placed on it “For your Names day.”

He pushed the letter aside and put the key into the lock, turning it ever so slowly until a faint click. Guilt passed through him, as did a wave of curiosity. His Names day wasn’t for another two weeks, why leave this here now?

He shouldn’t open it until it was time. However, it was already unlocked, maybe just a peak. Urgost slowly lifted the lid of the box upwards, a blue shine pushed outwards like it was trying to escape its confinement.

Urgost gasped as he beheld the beautifully crafted twin-blade weapon. It was eight feet long, the same blue metal material that Emirial created his blade from. Oh, it was stunning, the artefact weapons in this room could go to hell for all he cared. It was fully detachable at the click of two buttons so could be used as dual-wield swords instead of the spear-like weapon. Ancient elvish hieroglyphs were written, one word on each blade, but he had no idea what it meant.

“Protector, Saviour.” The voice came, filled with the same disinterest from earlier as if it was no more than an ordinary sword or spear. His aunt knew the ancient dialogue? One of these books must have shown her.

A long-forgotten feeling welled up within him, he wasn’t even sure what it was exactly. Some mix of grief, regret and sorrow, as his entire bloody history flashed by his eyes. His friend really did think quite highly of him, unlike most of his people. He straightened his back and raised his chin, wiping all thoughts from his mind as he decided to head back home.

A couple of hours later he was once again standing on the outer edges of the city, the route he took already wiping itself out of his memory.

He could feel the rush of magic empowering him again as it pulsed through his body, rejuvenating his very core. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, letting his body soar in the feelings of it all. Magic, it was absolutely wonderful.

Old memories once again flowed through him, the first time he cast a fireball or performed a protective shield, so visible yet so beautiful. Now though, magic was a deadly weapon far greater than that. He could instantly slaughter twenty men with a blink of his eyes by entering their minds and snuffing out the light. Making them implode from inside out. Squeezing their heart in their chests through sheer will. Fireballs and shields were overrated when you had the power to do anything you could think of. It was limitless, if your body could withstand the toll.

Urgost descended his staircase after not finding Emirial, half expecting him still to be passed out on the chair. “Where is he?” he said, directing the question at one of the sentries posted outside.

Jumping to attention, the guard replied, “He left five minutes after you did, your grace.”

Five minutes? The state he was in… He couldn’t even stand up yet managed to leave mere minutes later. What was Emirial up to? A cool gust of wind swept in as Urgost nodded to his guards to follow him.

A brief walk through the city led him to his friend’s home. It was plain and small looking on the outside but had two underground levels, including his own personal armoury. His friend was nowhere to be seen.

Urgost paused as he entered the bedroom, his mind now running to darker thoughts, to kidnapping or death perhaps. Nothing had happened in these lands since the incident with members of the council being slaughtered, that was nigh on sixty years ago, he was clearly just overthinking as usual. If you think of every outcome, nothing can surprise you, he thought.

There was a slight draft blowing in from the far window, rattling the curtains slightly. Emirial was not here either. Urgost looked around for any signs of struggle, the people that were threatening him with the false letter could have kidnapped Emirial. It was then Urgost spotted it, the armour manakin in the corner of the room stood bare. Emirial had left of his own accord. The King cursed.

Walking out of the house with graceful speed he delved towards the Northern edges of the city to find Lianna. He paused as he reached the Great Tree in the centre of their city.

He turned to one of the guards following him, before removing his weapon and holding it in his left hand, the tip of one of the blades cutting into the ground slightly. “Summon thirty of the Royal guard.” The guard’s eyes widened, and mouth opened slightly, filled with questions but knowing better than to ask them. “at…at once your grace.”

He couldn’t stop thinking of Emirial, and what he was planning, where he had gone. He had never done anything like this before and usually just hid in his home.

Ten minutes passed as he watched the tree, letting out a silent prayer for everything that was about to come. The sound of armoured feet marching through the city streets towards him began to come into focus, he smirked at his own power as he saw the guard approach.

Their dark green cloaks draped over their shining golden armour reflecting what was left of the lantern lights on the ground around them. They all bore a thick golden shield engraved with the King’s coat of arms: a snarling black Wolf.

They were some of the tallest elves, standing at the same height as Urgost and they all had their hand-and-a-half swords fastened tightly in their sheaths. Every hilt in the shape of a wolf gripping the blade in its jaws.

The elves halted in unison, the sound reverberating throughout the courtyard. Urgost nodded at the two guardsmen to return to their posts and led his throng towards the High Priestess.

Now that they were on the outskirts of the city, the temple was in clear view. Unlike the rest of Athaldris, it was constructed on the peak of a large hill. It was built out of the purest white marble and was in plain view of everything in the surrounding area. The only visible structure in the entire city.

It was beautiful to behold. Its highest towers pierced the tree line and reached for the sky above, stretching across the land. It paid tribute to every god, primary and lesser. The four gods had their own prayer rooms, and all lesser gods had their own shrine where you could make offerings too.

Urgost and his guard continued onwards, up the ramp leading to the Temple, and High Priestess Lianna. They made it halfway up the steps before ten of the blue cloaked temple guards armed with pikes rushed out of the temple doors. Their weapons pointed down towards Urgost, blocking the way from the impending threat.

They were similarly adorned, although their own armour was starlight silver and they wore helmets designed at the top to depict the very temple they protected. His own men withdrew their weapons, the slither of the blades blacked out any other sounds.

A few moments passed with no one daring to move until the High Priestess walked out, as magnificent as ever. “What is the meaning of this, Urgost?”

“We need to talk.”