Kael's consciousness drifted, untethered and weightless, as though submerged in a thick haze. Slowly, the fog began to part, revealing a dimly lit room. He found himself seated at a desk of dark, polished wood, his hands moving methodically over parchment as if they had done so for decades. He could feel the weight of age in his limbs, a stiffness in his joints, and the distinct awareness that this body was not his own.
Stacks of papers surrounded him, organized into neat piles, and the glow of a single candle cast flickering shadows across the room. His hand paused over the page, holding a quill, as though momentarily distracted by a sound he couldn't quite place.
The door to the study burst open.
"Elder Vaelith!" a female elf called, her voice sharp and urgent. She was tall and graceful, with fiery red hair that tumbled over her shoulders and wide, piercing green eyes. Her features were youthful but carried the weight of someone who had seen her share of battle and hardship. She strode forward, her expression lined with urgency.
Kael—or Vaelith, as he now realized this body was called—looked up from his work, startled by the intrusion. "What is it, Serenya?" his voice replied, deep and measured, though tinged with weariness.
"A messenger has come with urgent news," Serenya said, her words coming quickly. "He's gravely injured but alive. He insists he must speak with you immediately."
Vaelith—Kael—rose from his chair, the creak of his knees matching the heaviness of the moment. "Then waste no time. Bring him to me."
Serenya hesitated, her gaze flickering to the papers scattered across the desk. "Elder, I don't think he'll last much longer. You should come to him."
Kael felt Vaelith's body stiffen. Though his expression remained composed, he could feel the tension radiating through every muscle. This messenger's arrival was no ordinary event, and Serenya's tone carried an unspoken warning.
"Very well," Vaelith replied, striding toward the door with practiced purpose. Serenya fell into step beside him, her armor glinting faintly in the low light.
The two exited the study and entered a long corridor lined with elegant, flowing murals depicting scenes of nature—flourishing groves, towering forests, and streams that seemed alive even in their painted stillness. Kael felt an odd familiarity with these images, as though they were drawn from some deep corner of his own mind.
They descended a spiraling staircase into a grand hall. The space was bustling with activity—elves in various states of alarm whispered in hurried tones, their faces grim. At the far end of the room, a figure lay sprawled on a makeshift cot, his form barely visible beneath a tattered cloak.
Vaelith approached, and the room seemed to quiet. Serenya knelt beside the messenger, gently pulling back the hood of his cloak to reveal a gaunt face smeared with dirt and blood. The elf's breathing was shallow, his lips trembling as he struggled to form words.
"Elder…" the messenger rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "The void… it's… spreading. The seals… are failing."
Kael's borrowed body felt a cold dread settle over him. Vaelith's heart raced as he knelt beside the messenger. "Where? Where is the corruption taking root?"
The messenger's eyes fluttered, his strength fading fast. "The Southern Grove… it's already consumed. If we… don't act…" His voice trailed off as he coughed violently, blood staining his lips.
Vaelith pressed a hand to the messenger's chest, channeling a faint glow of healing magic to ease his pain. "Hold on," he said firmly. "What of the others? Have they been warned?"
The messenger nodded weakly. "We sent word… but it may already be too late. You must… prepare the totems. They are the last defense…"
His head slumped back, and his breathing grew quieter. Serenya's hand tightened into a fist as she looked up at Vaelith. "The totems," she echoed. "Do you think they'll be enough?"
Vaelith's face hardened, Kael feeling the weight of his resolve as though it were his own. "If the seals are failing, the totems are all we have left."
Before he could say more, the vision began to waver. The hall, the messenger, and even the walls around him seemed to blur and dissolve into shadows. Kael felt himself falling, torn from the borrowed memory and thrust back into the void of his own mind.
As he spiraled into the darkness, fragments of Vaelith's thoughts lingered—images of ancient totems, powerful seals, and an overwhelming sense of urgency. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the vision ended, and Kael's consciousness was plunged into stillness once more.