Following Ithil's words, the air within the Central Tower turned tense as the two elven elders narrowed their eyes at Ithil. Their hands moved subtly as if they were about to make a move, and just as telegraphed, they started weaving the beginnings of a spell separately. Despite their age, they were among the strongest mages in the elven kingdom, after all, elves were a well preserved race, and despite Ithil's criticism, those were only relative to the standards he held on their heads. Any other person would look at these elders with respect for their centuries of wisdom and magical prowess.
"You leave us no choice," the first elder declared.
"We will not let you taint this sacred place with this madness," the second elder added.
Their magic flared to life, glowing faintly as they prepared to cast restraining spells, at least, that was what Ithil recognized.
But, they never got the chance to release them.
