The last light of the day descended upon the land with fervor, bathing the pristine buildings in hues of orange and purple, and filling hearts with the calm of a day drawing to its close. But from that same land, a cry arose, and a few hearts beat wildly despite the serenity of the great star.
"It's a girl!" came the call amidst the rustling of fabrics and the newborn's cries.
"A girl! What wonderful news! Congratulations!" Cheers filled the room. "You're so fortun—!"
The sudden slam of the door cut his words short, and all waited expectantly for the news.
"Well? Is she?" asked the red-haired elf, his gaze fixed on the newcomer, who was noticeably out of breath.
"She is, Derev! She's an Erzan Dreca!" came the joyful reply. "Born on the same day as a magical being!"
A wave of joy swept over those present, for it had been many long years since the birth of the last Erzan Dreca. The birth of an elf on the same day as a magical creature—or, in rare and tragic cases, a cursed one—linked them to that entity and granted them powers beyond the bounds of the ordinary, such as summoning the elements or communicating with all living beings. This is why they were called Erzan Dreca, "Voice of Silence" in the ancient elven tongue, for with their abilities they would often speak on behalf of others, when their voices were silenced, unable to direct their fragile words to higher forces or beings as powerful as dragons or gorgons with their petrifying gaze. It was for this reason that many of them were chosen to rule in the lands of Noiran, and their birth was always cause for celebration.
The messenger departed after a slight bow, followed by the midwife, granting a moment of privacy for his sovereign and the overjoyed family.
"Have you chosen a name?" Derev asked, gazing tenderly at the woman cradling the little girl before him.
"Yes, we will name her Tári," the elf whispered, gently stroking the girl's cheek.
Beside her, the fortunate man holding his wife glanced at his king, a smile of pure happiness lighting up his face, and in return, he received a congratulatory pat on the back.
"You fill me with joy, Irh—!"
A powerful explosion outside cut Derev's words short, followed by screams piercing through the walls. Dread swiftly replaced the joy that had brightened their faces moments before, and their hearts sank.
"Derev, what is...?" the newborn's mother began to ask, but another blast silenced her.
The door burst open, and a young elf rushed into the room, panting.
"The drow! They're attacking us! They've come for the Erzan Dreca!"
"How could they know...?" The king hesitated, but only for a moment before regaining his composure.
"We must get you all to safety," he said firmly, "all three of you."
He then opened the book resting on a low table and, with meticulous penmanship, jotted down a few notes. Seconds later, he closed it, set the pen aside, and helped the mother to her feet.
"Derev... I fear I can't go far in my condition," she admitted, swaying slightly.
"Ti'en! Help us get them to safety, please!" the red-haired elf called to the messenger.
She rushed over, and while Derev took Tári into his arms, Ti'en and her companion helped the baby's mother.
"Derev!" the woman cried out, her voice resolute. "I-I can't protect her now. You must... you must take her somewhere safe, far from here. I..."
The child's father shuddered at his companion's words, knowing her strength and, thus, the weight of her admission.
"Derev... I'm afraid she's right. Keeping Tári safe is our priority. Once it's over, we'll meet agai—"
Another explosion, closer this time, echoed through the room, followed by the hiss of magic and the mingling of war cries and pained howls.
"All right," Derev conceded. He sent a mental message, and moments later, another of his aides entered the room. "Ti'en, Síon, I entrust the Erzan Dreca to you—her life, and our future. Take her to Jade, to the Gryll family. Inform them of what has happened here, and give them this letter along with the child."
He handed them a letter that had appeared between his fingers, but when he was about to give them the plump, twinkling-eyed baby, he couldn't resist spending a few quiet moments tucking her under the soft blanket, a warm smile crossing his face. Forcing himself back to the grim reality, he added, "Also, take the creature with whom she's bonded and leave it with Ludovh in Drizzle. He'll know what to do."
As soon as he finished, he gently passed the newborn to them, offering one last caress to her rosy cheek. After a silent nod, his aides disappeared into the enveloping darkness, leaving behind their king and the parents of the Erzan Dreca. The couple crumbled as they watched Tári stretch her tiny hand toward them, her tear-filled eyes silently pleading.
After a brief farewell and a final request for their safety, Derev rushed outside to confront a heart-wrenching scene of death and devastation. Though the drow had chosen the night, their eyes accustomed to the shadows of the underground to which they had been banished after Gelfred's failed rebellion against the elves, the flames lit everything as if night had turned to day. And among the flickering, ghastly shadows cast by the fire, the drow women slipped through with skill and cruelty, ending life after life.
Derev summoned his golden armor, the spell bringing it to life over his clothes, and with sword in hand, he charged into battle.
"What is the state of the fight?" he asked telepathically, addressing the commander of his troops.
"The Apocalyptics have taken the city, led by Naghâra. They've lost part of their forces, but we still cannot hold them back."
"Where is Naghâra?" he demanded.
"In front of the Cenacle."
A bit of magic was all it took for him to appear at the location, just in time to see the drow leader bring her mighty hammer down on one of his own, blood spraying everywhere. She then turned to face him, her features twisted with rage.
Gelfred had been dethroned by his wife, Ikersia, years after his exile. She had declared herself leader and passed down her hatred and teachings to future generations. Now, decades later, Naghâra rose again with her army of elite drow warriors—dark-skinned, white-haired, and ready to make the elves pay for their suffering, a suffering her people had brought upon themselves. Her goal was to rob them of their greatest joy: the newly born Erzan Dreca. And Derev had no intention of letting that happen.
Many gave their lives to protect the newborn, their last hope against the growing power of the enemy, but the deaths showed no sign of stopping. And as Derev waited for word from the messengers, his sword still defending his people, none came. He couldn't help but wonder if they had succeeded in delivering the Erzan Dreca safely to her new family, or if there would be any future left for his people—and for that extraordinary child.
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Tári Anárion: The Loyalty Trials
FantasíaTári grew up as an ordinary girl, until, on her adoptive family's deathbed, the existence of a letter urging her to return to her homeland was revealed to her. To do so, however, she must prove her loyalty by completing a series of trials. On her jo...
