The Dark Elf

Prologue (May or may not include)

When the last Drow Sorceress died, King Callimar locked down the underground kingdom of Fae'ander with a powerful curse. His desperation to claim the new Sorceress reincarnate as his own drove him to madness and turned him upon the kingdom.

The curse served as an invisible border, poised to smite any deserter as they crossed his borders. Thus started the siege of a thousand years. An imprisonment inflicted by a ruler on his own people.

In the early years, the Drow revolted. Disgusted that their ruler had taken away the one thing that they had fought for so long: their freedom. Countless escape plots were hatched, and each one led to its own terrible fate. Some sectors of the city rose militia of their own and attempted to wage war with the King. Each band was defeated, one by one. The division among Drow communities was their downfall, and their refusal to band together allowed the King's army to pick them off one by one.

The uprising came and went, and as generations of Drow died off, Callimar continued to rule. He rewrote history for his own, scratched his terrible wickedness from the archives, and shaped his new people into a powerful society of warriors slick with fear of the outside world.

Despite Callimar's successful sequestration, the Sorceress incarnate did not appear. As his madness grew, so did the demands placed on the people. Drow mothers were ordered to bring their offspring before the king only hours after they had given birth. Callimar's advisors would evaluate the infants, and if deemed a prospect, they would be seized from their mothers to be raised within the castle until their power came to light,

Thousands of infants were brought before Callimar, and hundreds were taken in the name of patriotic duty. And while the King never found his Sorceress, he did find a steady supply of soldiers and servants.

None of the kingdom really knew what became of their children. To give up one's child to preserve the royal throne was considered an honor, and mothers believed whatever rumors aligned with the hopes they had for their children. Some were convinced their babes were raised to be a part of the royal army. Others suspected that their younglings were no more, sacrificed for the good of the nation.

A thousand years carried on, and Callimar remained empty-handed. Void of a magical child, until Lymerra was born.

Lymerra, daughter of Elerra, was rushed before the king within an hour of her birth. The moment Lymerra descended from her body, even while she was still slick with blood, Elerra knew her daughter was different. The baby had many features typical of any pureblood Drow; sharp pointed ears, milky-blue grey skin, and glistening scarlet eyes. But instead of the usual silver hair exhibited by the Dark Elves, Lymerra bore a tuft raven hair upon her head.

Tears of joy trickled down Elerra's face as she held her baby girl. This one was special.

And she was right. Callimar's lead advisor was quick to snatch the baby from her mother's arms and carry her into the depths of the castle. Some mothers found the parting process difficult, some cried and screamed and begged to keep their child. But Elerra had been raised by a family most fervent to serve the King and uphold the honor of their people.

As she watched Lymerra disappear behind a grand door in the arms of the Elden advisor, she began to laugh.