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Chapter 9: The Lair of the Dark Elves (Part 1)
Ever since history began recording it, Gemflower Plains has been home to the elven race. Here, these graceful and noble beings have thrived amidst lush greenery and breathtaking scenery, basking in the benevolent blessings of Netheria, the goddess of nature.
Unlike humans, who often organize themselves under a centralized monarchy, elves live in a loose confederation of city-states. Each city-state is governed by a leader known as a Singer, while the highest authority across all elven lands is called the High Singer. This title is not inherited nor held for life — rather, it’s elected every two centuries by the collective voice of the Singers from each city-state.
Naturally, such a political system doesn’t affect us common folk much. For the elves, two hundred years is but the blink of an eye; for humans like me, it’s enough time for kingdoms to rise, fall, and be forgotten more than once.
The current High Singer also serves as the ruler of Moonstream City. His name is Zobal Y’shinbravinya Fireflame, a one-eyed warrior of legend, wielding twin blades with unmatched precision. Rumor has it that he once married a human pirate and even took to the seas himself for a time. Unlike many of his kind, who cling stubbornly to their lofty pride and isolationism, Fireflame mingled freely among humans, learning from what elves often considered lesser races. His example helped reshape elven society, encouraging them to shed their arrogance and embrace the unity of Falvy’s diverse peoples.
During the war against the Apocalyptic Legion over two centuries ago, Fireflame rallied the elves to stand alongside other races against the tyranny of Darrendel the Heartcrusher. He played a pivotal role in defeating Darrendel and his infamous lieutenants, earning himself the status of a living legend. That victory secured him the position of High Singer of all Gemflower elven city-states — a title he now holds within the grand halls of Moonstream City’s southwest quarter, where admirers from across the continent come to pay homage.
Yet even among a people as noble and proud as the elves, there are those who betrayed their kin in the face of overwhelming darkness. When the Apocalyptic Legion was at its height, several elven city-states surrendered out of fear, offering their loyalty to Darrendel in exchange for survival. These traitors were tainted by the corrupting magic of the Apocalyptic King, their appearances warped into something twisted and dark.
They became dark elves — their elegance largely intact, their agility undiminished, their magical affinity still strong. But their bodies had changed. In shadowed places, their powers surged, yet sunlight dulled their senses and weakened their strength.
Though most of the traitorous elves were wiped out during the great cleansing through the Devouring Gate, not all were destroyed. Hidden throughout the plains, they established secret enclaves, waiting patiently for the day when their dark master would return and restore their lost power.
One such enclave lies deep within a cave atop Red Hill — our destination. Somehow, this group of dark elves managed to subdue A’Stain, the mighty whirlpool crocodile that once served as Moonstream City’s guardian beast, patrolling the waterways of the Silverstar River. Now corrupted and under their control, A’Stain must be reclaimed. To accomplish this task, Anser Array must re-tame the beast — a prerequisite for her transformation into a true Beastmaster.
From the base of Red Hill, we could see the path winding upward, guarded by wooden watchtowers manned by Red Hill Archers— elite archers among the dark elves. Along the trail stood patrols of Red Hill Piercers, heavily armed warriors, and behind them, the sinister Red Hill Redeemers, dark priests devoted to forbidden gods. Occasionally, we’d spot a Red Hill Summoner, conjuring monstrous servitors to fight beside them.
These dark elves were eerily beautiful — tall, slender, with long, pointed ears. Their male warriors were striking, their female counterparts youthful and alluring. The only visible signs of their corruption were their charcoal-black skin and the arcane sigils etched onto their cheeks — markings of their allegiance to the Apocalyptic King.
As we set foot on the narrow mountain trail, the first tower spotted us. A crossbow bolt flew through the air and struck Fei Yin square in the stomach. She hadn’t even begun to raise her frost shield when it hit, draining nearly fifty points of her health.
The ambush didn't stop there. From the base of the tower emerged a Red Hill Piercer and a Red Hill Summoner. The warrior lunged forward, spear raised high, charging straight toward Anser Array with deadly intent. Behind him, the summoner raised his hand and launched a bolt of dark energy toward Fei Yin before gesturing sharply — commanding a massive, horned demon to charge toward Anser Array.
The creature was a hak’tu demon, towering and grotesque, with glowing yellow eyes and a single black horn protruding from its forehead. In its hands, it wielded a massive spiked mace — the kind of weapon you absolutely do not want to meet up close.
Fei Yin reacted quickly, casting a protective layer of frost around herself. The dark bolt slammed into her ice barrier, its force significantly reduced. Only twenty-three points of health drained away. Without missing a beat, she retaliated with a small Frostbolt, knocking a mere ten points off the summoner’s health.
Then she pointed ahead and shouted, “Jeff, take him down!”
Seriously? Even if spellcasting cost a fortune — which it did — was it really necessary to hoard mana like this in the middle of a fight? It felt like I’d just been demoted to the same rank as the summoned demon. I shot her a glare, annoyed beyond words.
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