Breathless and filled with a growing sense of dread, King Arnar rushed back to the palace, his instincts warning him of imminent danger lurking within its ornate walls.
As he stepped through the grand entrance, an eerie silence enveloped the once-vibrant halls.
Unease settled in the depths of his being, his senses heightened as he traversed the dimly lit corridors.
The air felt heavy, tinged with an unsettling energy that sent shivers down his spine.
A trail of scattered elf dust caught his attention, its presence adding to the growing tension.
"Eira!" An uncomfortable vision went through his mind, "something is not right!" He whispered as he folded his fist.
Breathless, he burst into their shared chambers, his gaze frantically scanned the room for Eira, his beloved and youngest wife.
And there, on the cold ground, lay her fragile form, pale and lifeless.
"..."
His heart shattered at the sight, a torrent of anguish flooded his being.
Kneeling beside her, water almost filled his eyes as he caressed her cheek, her skin was already growing cold. Her voice just a whisper, reached his ears.
"My king... the betrayal of your wives... they betrayed you to help humans... the throne... they want the throne..." Her words hung heavy in the air, laced with a painful truth.
Eira's final breath escaped her lips as her eyes closed, forever sealing their love and the depth of her sacrifice.
The weight of her words settled upon him, churning his emotions.
How could he have forsaken them? The realization cut deep, a regret too late to amend.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the darkness, cutting through the silence like a chilling gust of wind.
"My king, it's too late for you," a cold and sinister voice taunted from the shadows. Aria, Lyra, and Terra emerged, their faces contorted by a mixture of malice and triumph.
Confusion and anger swirled within King Arnar's gaze as he confronted his treacherous wives.
Before he could react, Aria hurled a handful of enchanted elven dust towards him, its purpose was to weaken his powers and cloud his vision.
The particles swirled around him, creating a maelstrom of disorienting magic.
In the midst of the chaos, Lyra, wielding a sacred sword, lunged forward with lethal intent. The blade sliced through the air, finding its mark in the king's chest.
Pain seared through him as he staggered backward, his strength faltered.
Darkness closed in on his vision, threatening to engulf him.
But even in the face of betrayal, a moment of realization pierced the haze.
Something was horribly wrong.
His wives, once his trusted companions, had turned against him.
As his body weakened, the weight of impending darkness pulled him closer to the ground, a flurry of thoughts raced through King Arnar's mind.
A mosaic of memories and unanswered questions formed a backdrop to his final moments, his love for Eira still burned brightly.
In that harrowing instant, he yearned for her presence, her admiring loyalty and never-ending belief in him.
Regret and longing mingled within his heart, the realization dawned that he had forsaken the one who truly loved him, who had stood by his side through thick and thin.
As the abyss claimed him, King Arnar's final thoughts whispered of a lost connection, a love untethered by power and control.
And though the darkness swallowed him whole, his yearning for redemption echoed through the void, forever entwined with the memory of Eira, the wind that had whispered of love in her dying breath.
As the life force was drained from King Arnar's body, his wives seized the opportunity to execute their malevolent plan.
With twisted smiles adorning their faces, they snatched the sacred elven heart, its radiant glow now was tainted by their deceitful hands.
-A sense of impending doom hung in the air as they prepared to address the gathered elves.
With an air of authority, the traitorous wives stepped forward, their voices resonated through the stunned crowd.
"Elves of our kingdom," Aria's words cut through the silence, "your king has fallen, not in battle but in betrayal. He sought to sacrifice this sacred elven heart to darkness, to harness more power for his own wicked purposes."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as disbelief and anger intertwined.
The elves struggled to comprehend the heinous act their once-revered king had allegedly planned. Doubts and accusations swirled, their faith in their leader shattered.
Then, with a flourish, Lyra produced the darkened heart, infused with malevolent magic, its pure essence looked tainted.
As the corrupted heart pulsed with an eerie energy, the elves gasped in horror, their eyes widened with newfound understanding. The truth of the king's treachery became painfully apparent, and bitter curses fell from their lips.
In a calculated move, the three wives proclaimed the king's alleged intentions to slaughter all humans, casting him as the villain in their twisted narrative.
They argued that the purity of the elven heart could not be tarnished by such bloodshed. To compensate for the king's wicked desires, they announced their decision to aid the humans in their fight against the evil that the king had coveted for himself.
The elves, their minds clouded by the wives' cunning manipulation and the darkened heart's malevolent aura, succumbed to the web of deception.
They embraced the notion of assisting the demons for humans, viewing it as a righteous cause to atone for their king's perceived sins.
Dividing themselves into three groups, the armies of elves pledged allegiance to the treacherous wives.
-Lyra led her forces to the east, Aria to the west, and Terra to the north.
With whispered promises of justice and redemption, they set off, their intentions veiled behind a facade of righteousness.
Little did the elves know that they had been ensnared in a circle of lies, their hearts manipulated by the very ones who had sworn to protect and serve.
As they embarked on their respective missions, the path ahead shrouded in uncertainty, the true nature of their wives' intentions remained hidden, a sinister secret that would reveal itself in due time.
"Do you want revenge...?"