2. The Heart of the Empire:

“No matter, as long as there is goodness in human hearts, the Omega will prevail.”

Gera - Queen of the Forest

Somewhere in the city of Dostov, 8 years later, in the depths of the city, an elven servant had been summoned by the Bucullatus, a group of mages who had arrived a couple of years ago in the kingdom, claiming they would help them overcome the crisis they were facing since the fall of their capital.

When he entered the room, he was horrified; the entire place was filled with bodies, entrails, and blood everywhere. In the center of the room were the Bucullatus, murmuring something. He stepped back slowly, trying to escape, but accidentally kicked a vial on the floor, catching the attention of the Bucullatus.

“You... come closer, little elf, and tell me your name,” said one of the Bucullatus, who seemed to be the leader, as the others bowed their heads as if in reverence.

“I'm Tok, an elven servant,” he replied trembling. “It wasn't my intention to interrupt; I'll leave now.”

“I told you to come closer!” shouted the hooded figure, losing patience. He obeyed and approached slightly, “you know, there's a legend about elves that they told me when I was a little girl; they said they were beings so mystical and powerful that they possessed magic even in their blood, regardless of their color, size, whether they were mages or mortals, all had magic. I'm curious to know if it's true; after all, legends are often based on real events.”

“Yes, it's a c-common assumption since our ancestors originated from sacred lands, but I don't know if it will be t-true. After all, centuries have passed since we left those lands, and I think it only speaks of pure-blood elves” he could barely articulate words.

‘Crack’ was heard in the background of the room. The elf looked to where the sound came from and saw a gigantic creature that could barely be seen; it held one of the bodies and seemed to be eating it. “Qe liabolo?” he said in elven. The elf recoiled in terror, without thinking twice, he ran towards the door as fast as he could, but before he could reach it, the hooded figure recited.

“’Redemptio Vinculu’,” from the right hand of the hooded figure emerged a kind of shining lasso that reached the elven and tied him up. The lasso began to drag the elf toward the woman, who removed her hood, revealing a beautiful young face. Her hair was long and black, seemingly a beauty in almost every aspect, but her eyes were completely white, as if she had no soul.

“What did you do?! You sacrificed your soul!” said the elf, increasingly frightened. “Why?”

“How naive; I did it for the good of this nation, and you will have the privilege of witnessing it in person. You will witness what will make us the masters of this world, an unlimited power” she chuckled macabrely and raised her left hand towards the beast “you, get up and come here!” the beast obeyed and approached the witch; the elven finally managed to see the monster clearly.

“En dimanas,” ‘a demon’ in elvish, “what do you plan to do?”

“A demonstration,” a grim smile appeared on the woman's face. She moved the lasso holding the elf and brought him closer to the demon; it looked at him curiously, as if it wanted to play with him.

It was reaching out its hand towards the elf in a friendly manner until the woman spoke “kill him!” the demon's eyes turned completely red; it formed a fist and with a single motion struck the elf on the side of his body. He hit him with such force that the elf's body split in half; the upper part of the elf flew across the room, falling to the ground with his entrails spilling out. The witch let go of the other half of the elf, letting it rot on the floor.

The elf, using his last strength, lifted his head and addressed the witch “you have meddled with forces you don't understand; you will end up becoming the downfall itself and condemn your soul in the process...” the elf took a pause to say his last words “esai catar maenos!” as he uttered this curse, his eyes turned completely white, and he fell to the ground dead.

“’The downfall itself’, eh,” she said mockingly, “I like it better than doomed to failure, don't you think, master?” The door at the back opened, and an elderly Bucullatus entered with a fairly bushy and unkempt beard. He shifted his gaze to the elf's body and crushed his head.

“Damned servant, don't get too cocky,” he turned his gaze back to his apprentice “quite impressive; I see that your control over that thing has improved a lot, although not as much as I would like,” he said in a dull tone; this last comment irritated the witch quite a bit.

“What do you mean by that? It's ready; we must take the city of Gramorg and kill Draco right now, or...”

“It's not ready!” the old man shouted, interrupting the witch, “do you think I haven't noticed that your gond is weakened? You still need time to get used to controlling its power.”

“But if we don't take the city, ‘he’ will...”

“Don't worry about... ‘he’,” said the old man, disturbed, mentioning it discomforted him “we still have time. The deadline he gave us is five years, of which only two have passed. Besides, I already made the first move”