"Abandon immortality, so that the elves may survive…" The last high elf of the Haerith Dynasty speaks to Varen in a monologue as if narrating a story totally unrelated to himself. "The Dark Ages was a very long time of adversity. All kinds of races appear in the world, maybe in a futile attempt to preserve intelligent life. The orcs with their impressive strength, the dwarves with their genius minds, the gnomes with their mutant abilities, the giants with their draconic vitality, and the elves with their psychic gifts and long lifespan. Among the elves, the most special is the high elves who are virtually immortal. There are a lot more intelligent races, but among them, the ordinary and mundane humans shine the brightest. It is truly a perilous time, and the overseeing race, the humans though have nothing in comparison to the other races, they remain inviolable races that have taken the lead for a long millennia and the next. As time goes by, the other races continue to prosper while the humans continue to decline. At the dusk of the dark ages, humanity raises the flag of war in a vile attempt to suppress the other races. Because of the weak reproductivity of us elves, they easily snuff us out by constricting our resources. Trapping us in our own home forest, the elves start to decline. It is a time of war that lasts for an epoch, thus it is called the Epoch War. Time and time again, the elves only continue to decline until there are no longer any high elves. The well-preserved bloodline of high elves that serve both as royalty and a symbol of the elves are gone and hunted to extinction. If not for the last elders to sacrifice their 'life' for a mysticism ritual to alter the genetic makeup of the elves, we truly would be lost. I am a second-generation high elf, a remnant of the Haerith Dynasty. I don't know who you are that I am speaking with but know that in every thousand years, a high elf will be born among you. He or she will have white hair and ears longer than an average elf. This is your ancestor's desperate struggle for survival. I hope that at least with a high elf among our descendants, the elf bloodline will continue to survive. However, I, we are gravely mistaken. Immortality will be our kin's downfall. Immortality can do a lot of crazy things to an individual. Too much time and power will inevitably corrupt even the most noble and incorruptible kings. After all, I have seen one, I have been one, and I hope to be the last. The elves' continued decline is because of the high elves that desperately want to live. My father is one. Witness to his tyranny, I try to stop him from descending to a mad corrupt king, but as time continues to eat a piece of him day by day, I realize how flawed the high elves are. I rebel and take his throne, however, I am not safe either from my mental corruption, as similar to my father's fate, I also become a mad king. Before I truly fall into madness, I firm my heart to decide that the Haerith Dynasty should end, so I kill… I kill my wife, daughter, niece, nephew, mother, and everyone who bares the white hair. However, I cannot kill myself… All throughout time, I watch the elven race grow behind the scenes, and truly my decision is right. A second dynasty comes to life under the care of the wood elves, dark elves, and mountain elves. The elves start fighting back against the humans. And after a thousand years, a high elf is born again among my kind. The 3rd generation High Elf… It appears that the longer the gap between the originals, the easier for them to fall into madness. I am helpless to stop the concurring events. Before I know it, the new elf dynasty divides itself into three Kingdoms— the Ezelea Forest, the Drows Underdark, and the Sun's Forge. Descendant, if you see a high elf, you must kill them. They are dangerous, especially the furthest and latest generations. They are not simply prone to madness. The real danger from them is the 'mad genius' that comes from the 'mad inspiration' that seeks bloodshed and chaos. Any high elf is a ticking time bomb. You must kill them before it is too late."
Varen wakes up to reality immediately after he learns of the message. The migraine is painful but he resists. "Get me a horse."
Mounting the horse that Saul brings him, he gallops for the Dark Forest barely with proper roads to achieve maximum speed, yet Varen masterfully maneuvers around them. When he judges that riding the horse has become inefficient, he decisively jumps on the trees making speed his highest priority.
Night.
He arrives at the Hanging Palace. With lithe steps, he arrives at the Princess's resting place. Yirlung who is standing guard watches him with scrutiny. Varen must be quite a mess, though he cannot see, he feels his tingling numb arms and feet almost giving up.
Varen feels the Elf King, his majesty's presence just beside Kara. This must be along the 'psychic' abilities that the murals are speaking of. Feeling the temptation to murder his liege, Varen feels a sense of dissonance. What use is there? Will he believe a nobody from a mural or the long-established relationship he has with his King?
The conflict eats away at his reason, but with a steady mind, he sticks to his priority. He reports to Kara about the mural. The Birth of the Elves remains a mystery, but The Fall of an Elf Dynasty, and The Hundred Million Years in Exposition are quite full of information… to share and analyze.
"You did good, Varen…" Kara coldly inhales the air clearly in disbelief. "However, I have no intention of killing his majesty." She proclaims.
Immortality. Madness. The Dark Ages. Intelligent Races. Humanity. Epoch War.
Kara showing her worry in her eyes resolutely carries on with her priorities. "This is good." She says feigning confidence. "Because of this information, this will prepare us for the worst. There is a need to establish dedicated 'soldiers' who shall maintain our internal affairs."
Kara still wearing her nightgown, walks off the bed chamber and heads for her office. Yirlung and Varen look at each other and follow the princess.
In silent companionship, they watch the princess gather her tools— from parchment, quill, and ink.
Kara who tends to bite her nails when tensed, focuses on the problem at hand. "The New Elf Dynasty prior to the Haetith Dynasty divides themselves into three— the Ezelea Forest, the Drow Underdark, and the Sun's Forge. I don't know about the classification of elves, but it is safe to assume they will look like us. This is urgent. Yirlung, I want you to establish a royal guard separate from the Einherjar dedicated to the royal name. Varen, I want you to bring Naya to Gaia. She might see something there. Varen, you have to be careful. We don't know the nature of your coming and going to that world."
"Yes, your highness…" Varen plainly answers Kara, while Yirlung silently nods in tacit understanding.
Kara prepares a countermeasure for the recent information in an attempt to minimize damages from elf spies. While it seems unlikely. It is better than feeling sorry. What Kara doesn't know is that the countermeasures she will make will work in her favor for a different reason.