He took a step forward, his gaze sweeping across them.
"You claim to be wise. You claim to guide our people. Yet for thousands of years, what have you done? We cling to an illusion of superiority, while the world moves forward without us. This nation, our race, we've been stagnant for centuries. While the world progresses, we remain the same."
Some of the elders stiffened. Others glared at him, as silence filled the hall.
Then, an elder spoke, his voice heavy with disbelief. "You speak as if we are weak. As if we have not protected our people for generations."
"Protected?" Ithil repeated, his eyes gleaming with a cold light, "or isolated? We build walls and hide behind them, believing that if we simply wait, we will be safe, wasting our gift of long life."
He gestured toward the outside.
"And yet, even now, the world is burning. The Demon Lord's armies march. The balance of power shifts. And what do we do?"
