MATED TO THE NIGHT WOLF (MTTNW)

[34.1] THE ELVES

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"The anguish in my soul has deepened to lengths unrecognizable. There is only one thing that can redeem me. Answer my prayers from your throne in the Night stars.
Bring her to me."
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[KAYOS]

It's been years since I walked these underground halls buried beneath the court. I am alone with a singular lamp to light my way. It is not needed, I can see quite well in utter darkness and yet, light is the best company.

Alchest screeches above my shoulder and I roll my eyes. It is as if the shadow is connected to my emotions.

I tread the secret passages and stop before the large wooden door. It is barred with numerous locks and chains of which I have no key.

When I was younger my father brought me here. I pause the memory. It is the few I remember of him.

He opened it as I am now.

My gaze travels to Alchest and he moves as a shadow blended into the darkness around, with ease into the smallest crack in the door.

I hear the locks click open the chains fall and the door swings open before me. I see Alchest scamper in the shadows inside the dust-covered room.

Once again I am taken back in time to memories. My father is by my side. I was not more than 7 summers old. He had lived long after that.

Here is where the treasures of the Elves lie he had said. Everything recovered after the war. To be locked in the darkest part of the court to the knowledge of the Night Wolf only.

Of each bloodline.

I walk in and the light moves with me, and I search around the room. There is not much.

Two shelves with objects spaced strategically.

A golden helmet sparkling bright beneath the lantern light. My fingers graze the ancient symbols on the helmet. There isn't a speck of dust against it. It remains as if brand new though I know it has been seated here for more than a century.

There are three spears, all long and sharp.

This dust has managed to gather here. But the metal is strong and it remains steady, with only little hits of rust and corrosion.

It is Elven armor. The books were indeed correct about their unmatched durability.

I see flowers, only five, alive and well, though the water in which they sit has long turned into the nastiest kind of slug. Sediments of all kinds and where the jar once full was now nearly empty.

My gaze trails up to a bunch of clothes which I lift. It is a robe stained with blood, and from the smell of chaos, I know a life was lost in this robe, and many were taken by it. I hear the screams and the shouts as they open from the endless, echoes of lives once lived. I put the robe down gaze shifting.

My eye catches that of a ring, and my eyebrows arch at it. I lift it and engraved inside are words I can not read. It is too ancient. But I feel the weight of power on it.

My jaw ticking, and my gaze stops at a scroll, covered in dust. I take it, placing the lantern by the shelf, and I unroll the dust-colored paper.

Dust falls off and even then, I have to wipe the thickness gathered before I can make outa singular word. I fear after years the ink has faded but I see not even a smudge.

My gaze trails down the bundle of scrolls, starting with the first one. I am disappointed. It is written in the old language. One not spoken in modern society.