In the bustling corridors of the Pentagon, situated in Washington D.C., the highest military command center of the United States housed the secrets of the world's ultimate security. Here, intelligence from across the globe converged, and decisions were made that could alter the course of history.
"Knock, knock—"
"Come in!"
"Minister Johnson, this is a report from the Fermi National Laboratory for your review."
After entering with permission, a staff member saluted and placed a folder on the desk, then promptly exited. Minister Johnson, a retired four-star general from the Marine Corps turned Secretary of Defense, had accepted the President's invitation to serve as the nation's defense head.
Once alone, Johnson opened the folder, marked 'Confidential.' "Fermi National Lab? Aren't they physics researchers? Why send a confidential report to the Department of Defense?"
With a furrowed brow, he began to read. His skepticism grew with each page—reports of high-energy reactions in the Amazon, suggesting the presence of wormholes. "Oh, Lord, are they joking? Why not claim aliens are poised to invade from the moon?"
He shook his head dismissively at the notion of such a thing as a wormhole on Earth, especially one that appeared and vanished in an instant. He suspected the lab was fishing for funding with outlandish claims. But as he was about to leave it be, something stopped him. Quickly, he logged into the secure system and pulled up a report that had arrived from Princeton's physics lab that very day.
"They detected a wormhole reaction too?"
His initial amusement faded into serious contemplation. One lab might be seeking funds, but two separate top-tier facilities reporting the same phenomenon warranted attention from the Secretary of Defense.
"They say the reaction was fleeting, the location within a certain range in the Amazon..."
Johnson traced the coordinates on a gigantic wall map with a pencil, marking a circle deep within the jungle. After a moment's reflection, he pressed a button on his desk phone.
"Do we have troops near the Amazon? Dispatch them to longitude XXX, latitude XXX. I'll send the detailed report shortly."
Having given the orders, he pushed the topmost button on the phone: "...Arrange a meeting. I need to speak with the President."
Hanging up, Johnson exhaled, a wave of unease washing over him.
"God bless America! I hope this is good news..."
He donned his coat as he prepared to leave for the White House. Such crucial information demanded a direct discussion with the President, particularly due to the sensitive nature of the documents involved.
"Just hope the President doesn't get excited and tweet this out..."
The thought of the new President's tendencies gave Johnson a headache. He wondered why he'd accepted the role, forever cleaning up after the President's unrestrained comments.
...
Saint Soren's World—
The Forest of Nourishing Grace lay in the southern reaches of the continent, an endless expanse of woodland home to the widely known race of elves.
The forest was the largest congregation of elves and the recognized bastion of their kingdom. Not only elves but a host of magical creatures and regular animals, including treants and dryads, were tied to its thriving ecosystem.
Elves were renowned for their surpassing grace and delicate features, captivating the hearts of humans and many other species with their bewitching beauty.
Elves lived exceedingly long lives and were few in number. On the black market, elven slaves were beyond value, the dream possession of any human noble.
Many of these dark-hearted nobles saw the elves' universal beauty as a prize to be hunted. Considering the longevity of elves, one could serve several generations, becoming a grotesque family heirloom.
Yet, despite being so coveted by the wealthy, elven slaves remained rare due to the presence of the elven kingdom within the Forest of Nourishing Grace.
The Silver Moon Kingdom, the only elven realm acknowledged by many races, sat at the forest's heart. Instead of enclosing themselves within walls like humans, the elves used the forest as their shield and battlefield. While the capital city was heavily guarded and housed communal life, most elves lived scattered throughout the forest in tribal communities.
Though the elves' overall might paled in comparison to human empires, they were not to be underestimated. United and few, any who dared enslave an elf risked fierce elven retaliation. Thus, even the most influential human nobles kept their possession of elven slaves discreet.
At the deepest part of the forest, a colossal tree stretched toward the sky—the Sacred Tree of Life. Believed to be planted by the elven deity, revered as the Lord of Nature, the Silver Moon Goddess, and many other titles, this tree was said to be the source of the elves' longevity.
Beneath its boughs, a regal palace shimmered on a central lake. The palace was an embodiment of artistic mastery and elven heritage—elegant, tasteful, and seamlessly integrated with nature.
And there, standing with a commanding presence, was the Elven Queen herself. If elves were the epitome of beauty on the continent, she was peerless among them—the founder of the Silver Moon Kingdom, reigning supreme over her people with titles such as 'The Moon of Moons,' 'The Light of Lights,' 'The Fairy of the Forest.'