"The air smells of smoke, and the sky darkens. The Great Hall of Grauknok will fall before the first crow of dawn." Spoke a thin, blue figure. His amethyst eyes bore the gaze of a proud leader, and that of a tired, dishonest worshipper.
An amused laugh echoed throughout the dark cavern. Upon a throne of stone and blackened bones resided Ifer. His pale lips were caressed by a toothy smile, his eyes ablaze. "Come now, Tryell. Are they so weak?"
The moon-elf glanced towards the serpent, his expression unwavering; as though it had been trained to never show his thoughts. "How long does my Lord predict they'll survive?" He questioned indifferently.
"At most, five minutes past dawn! If any longer, I'll have Glortur's head!" Ifer laughed. Pressing his back to the cool stone of his throne, the demonic prince crossed his legs and looked out towards the bright mushroom forest.
"You give them more praise than they deserve, my Prince." Tryell spoke calmly. His tone nearly sounded disinterested when compared to that of Ifer's. Though, the elf didn't appear to worry that it might offend the demon.
Ifer's good mood wasn't to be ruined by Tryell's lack of excitement. He breathed in content and fingered an amulet that dangled from his waist alongside a few other cursed trinkets.
"I wish for you to lead the next step in my plan." He spoke finally.
Tryell lifted his gaze from the cavern floor, turning only slightly to face the serpent prince. He did not verbally accept or reject this task, as he knew Ifer would not welcome him to reject it. His gaze drifted to the floor once more and he bowed his head briefly. "It is an honor, my Lord, that you would entrust me with this task."
Ifer scoffed, his eyes dancing mischievously. "Trust you? Not in the slightest. Ah, but that makes it all the more entertaining!"
***
The city of Grauknok shone as bright as the Constellation of the Gods! All that could burn was ablaze, whether item or man. The army of Frostforge declined in numbers. Hundreds were lost by the hour. Overrun by ebony hell-spawn, the city was truly lost. The corpses of men, women and children alike decorated the city like weeds do a garden. Blood seeped through every crack within the mountain. Today, Grauknok was no more. Today, Ifer's return wasn't a forgotten legend any longer, but an imminent reality.
Down deep within the prisons, a young elven girl curled into the corner of her cell. With as much strength as she could muster, she pressed her hands against her ears. She couldn't drown out the blood curdling screams that echoed throughout the city. Flooded by the memory of the burning of her home, Rhys grew dizzy.
As reality seemed to slip from her grasp, a devastating cry could be heard through the city's terror.
"The king has fallen! Abandon the city, or let us die with our lord Silverheart!"