The palace of the Silver Moon Kingdom was a masterpiece of artistry, seemingly woven from the intertwining branches of countless ancient trees, perched above the Silver Moon Lake as if cradled by the sacred tree of the elven race. Throughout the year, the palace bloomed with flowers, and fruits of all hues adorned its spaces, replacing the crass opulence of gold and silver typical of human socieites.
Carvings of ancient elven epics adorned the wooden walls, not with the roughness of other races' rock carvings, but with the intricate detail only the nimble hands of elves could achieve. Interspersed among the verdant surroundings were occasional glimpses of gold and gemstones, a testament that elves too valued precious metals as significant wealth.
At the heart of this exquisite edifice, upon a high dais, stood the Elven Queen, her silhouette backlit by brilliant sunlight that streamed through the mottled canopy overhead, casting the illusion of doves bearing olive branches in their ascent.
The Queen donned a flowing gown crafted from leaves, flowers, and wooden threads—a garment devoid of earthy garishness yet imbued with a timeless essence of nature. Her silver hair, akin to the moon above, crowned with a woven tiara, and her statuesque figure, though clad in such attire, could not fully conceal her alluring form. Still and silent, she radiated an ethereal temptation, drawing gazes that dared not venture beyond respectful distance.
Ariella, meaning 'whisper of the moon' in the elven tongue, was her name—renowned across the mainland, an enchantress in every rational male creature's fantasies. While few had actually gazed upon her true visage, her beauty was as widespread as the tales of the elves themselves, reaching every corner of the continent.
A perpetual veil of mystery shrouded the Elven Queen's face, elusive and illusory, impervious even to legendary beings, adding to her mythic allure.
"Nimue, how goes the battle at the front?"
The Queen's melody-like voice, cool as the moon's caress, echoed within the palace, entrancing even the female elf kneeling before her, bewitched by the sound.
Nimue, the Queen's Chief Guard and a renowned Elven Ranger General, was a figure of great prestige, having led the elves to countless victories over a millennium. But despite her status, even she dared not linger on the Queen's majestic presence, which held a fatal charm akin to that of a siren from the abyss—utterly bewitching but fraught with peril.
Catching a glimpse of the Queen's bare feet and a section of her slender leg beneath the robe, Nimue quickly lowered her gaze, respect and veneration in her voice. "Your Majesty, the decennial assault of the Holy Empire has commenced. They've marched out of 'Central City,' leading their forces to the outskirts of the Forest of Nourishing Grace. Our troops are engaged in fierce combat there, and casualties have begun to mount."
"I see," the Queen replied, pondering the situation before speaking again, her calm tone suggesting a familiarity with such scenarios.
The Holy Empire, a unique entity among human nations, was small in territory but rife with powerful individuals, its doctrine of 'human supremacy' fostering enmity toward all non-human races.
In a world of diverse races and complex planes, humans claimed the main continent's most fertile lands; were it not for their penchant for infighting and the presence of other formidable races like orcs, dragons, and elves, humanity might have unified the continent long ago.
The Holy Empire stood out among human nations by exclusively targeting non-humans while turning a blind eye to internal human conflicts. Pledging neutrality, they refused to enter the wars of other human states. Periodically, under their rallying call, human realms devoted a portion of their armies to the Empire's cause, led by its champions in crusades against other races.
For a millennium, this had been the Empire's way, leading to the extinction of weaker species, while formidable ones like the elves could not be eradicated. Despite the futility, the Empire's belief in 'human supremacy' spurred them to wage war every decade, a cycle so routine that it had become the new normal.
"Come, Nimue, to the altar. With the Elders' aid, we'll summon a powerful creature from another plane to counter this human incursion."
Without hesitation, the Queen commanded action.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Nimue stood, respectfully following the Queen to the altar. The Queen, the founder of the Silver Moon Kingdom, was in fact the elves' most potent being—a demi-god level sorceress unmatched in a time when the gods could no longer enter this world.
As a master of conjuration and summoning, the Queen had called forth legendary beings from other planes to combat humanity in past wars. With the elves' numbers scarce, the loss of a single life was grievous, making her summoning magic the preferred method to minimize casualties.
Accustomed to the rituals of battle, Nimue followed her monarch to the altar, where a grand magical array was already etched into the ground. Surrounded by venerable elves, the Queen gave a slight nod before raising her staff, crafted from the ancient Tree of Life itself, and intoned a chant in archaic elvish.
The runes of the altar shimmered in verdant and silver light, as leaves and blossoms wrought of elemental magic bloomed from the ether, settling upon the array.
Suddenly, Ariella stumbled, nearly collapsing in weakness.
"Your Majesty?!" Nimue asked, alarmed, stepping forward to support her Queen, an expression of concern spreading across her face. Such an occurrence was unprecedented in a thousand years.
With a gesture, the Queen stopped her, her usual calm voice tinged with urgency. "...My divine power is out of control. An unknown, formidable presence is attempting to drain my energy to manifest into our world!"
At the Queen's words, tension gripped the gathered elves, their eyes fixed on the empty space before the altar.
The scale of power used in a summoning directly correlated with the strength of the summoned being. An entity forceful enough to draw upon the Queen's divine power hinted at a fearsomely powerful arrival.
A portal of light, unlike any magical sigil the elves were accustomed to, glowed in the air—an unadorned door emanating a soft blue luminescence.
The elves, including Nimue, had never seen such a gate before, as if it were not wrought by magic at all. To the Queen, however, the sight brought a flash of terror to her usually impassive face.
And under the watchful eyes of the gathered elves, a grand being descended.
Nimue swiftly positioned herself in front of the Queen, ready to fulfill her duty despite knowing her power paled compared to Her Majesty's.
As the 'unknown creature' emerged, Nimue's eyes widened in disbelief.
A thunderous roar from the foul dragon reverberated through the sacred elven lands.