In the entrance of Roan there stood a young elf with black hair and tanned skin. She took a deep breath before snatching a whistle from her sachet. The whistle was made from fine timber and clearly carved by a master artisan. The young elf then blew the whistle – when the gates opened and saw corpses.
"Am I dreaming?" the young elf asked herself as her voice echoed. But alas no one can reply to the young elf for "Roan" the home of elves had no sign of life.
Everywhere the young elf looked she saw nothing but blood. Saw elves scattered around with all that hollow look in their faces.
The young elf went on her knees losing strength in her legs as she tried to make sense of what was in front of her. The young elf's mind continued to spiral as her mind cannot stop thinking and amidst the chaos in herself all she could do was scream.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS CAN'T BE REAL , PLEASE GOD IF YOU EXIST YOU CAN'T BE SO CRUEL PLEASE" the young elf cried loudly leaving her throat hoarse.
The young elf continued to sob, not accepting the reality that she was faced with at this moment. As she lifted her head all you can see was her eyes filled with an emotion that she couldn't decipher. An emotion she soon would learn to be "despair".