Erolith and Elduin were to a place that they knew really well. Because they had visited this place once when they were crowned as the future Elven King and Elven Priest at the age of ten and eleven, respectively.
They were inside the Sacred Tree, where they could hear the voice of the Sacred Tree. Erolith, who had been mortally wounded, fell on the ground after he teleported. "Big Ero, hang it there!" Elduin caught his Big Ero and wasted no time. He knew the chance was tiny, but he could still bring Big Ero to the Elven Doctor and…
"It's useless, Elduin. Don't you see that I have been mortally wounded? No matter the amount of magic I persevere, I cannot be saved anymore…" Erolith smiled and caressed his Little Eld's cheek. "You know that I've used up all my magic reservoir."
