Squinting in focus, he read the ancient symbols, learning about the most likely extinct civilisation who lived here.
"Silvermoon elves," he muttered, noticing their depiction.
Unlike regular elves, their hair mirrored the moon's glow, cascading in silver hue down their pale skins. Their culture diverged entirely, too. As moon worshippers, they established temples where a specific type of mana ran down the ground.
Moving further, he saw how their society worked. Every century, they elected a young maiden attuned to the moon as their leader.
She held absolute authority inside their temple, selecting or dismissing individuals in core positions depending on their merit.
Of course, her authority didn't stem from her followers' blind faith. She held power. Immense power even. By using the earth's ley lines to purify and enhance the moon's mana, each of these maidens had the potential and means to become archmages.
'How did they perish?'
