The Elf examined everyone present in the Queen’s chamber. Aside from him, three other High Elves stood nearby, their handsome features mirroring his own elegance and sorrow.
But aside from them, there were five maids present, their faces pale and eyes wide with the weight of what they had witnessed.
He let out a soft sigh.
What they had just seen was a dangerous secret that threatened the very existence of their proud race. They couldn’t let them keep it.
The other High Elves shared his unspoken thoughts, their gazes meeting in a silent exchange.
After a quiet nod among themselves, they all knew what must be done. He turned to the maids.
"Faithful maids of our beloved Queen... the tragedy that has befallen us—"
Before he could say further, the five maids moved as one.
Their faces were resolute despite the tremor in their hands as they dropped to their knees in unison, bowing low before him. Their voices, though soft, carried a firm resolve as they spoke in harmony.
"We understand, my Lord. We are ready to partake in the cleansing ritual."
The High Elf paused, his stern expression softening for a fleeting moment. Pride flickered in his luminous eyes, mingling with the sorrow that gnawed at his heart.
He had anticipated fear or hesitation, yet their immediate willingness spoke volumes of the loyalty woven deep into their race.
"Your devotion strengthens us all," he said in gratitude. "Though it wounds me to ask this of you, I thank you for your sacrifice. Please, proceed to the bed."
The maids rose gracefully, and turned towards the grand bed where their Queen’s lifeless form still lay.
They understood the gravity of the cleansing ritual they were about to undertake. It was a forbidden art known only to the highest echelons of Elven society.
The cleansing ritual was no ordinary magic. It was a sacred yet perilous act, designed to erase memories from the mind to protect the sanctity of the Elven race.
The ritual required absolute willingness from its subjects, as any resistance, even a flicker of doubt, could shatter the delicate balance of the spell, leaving the mind fractured or, worse, utterly destroyed.
The maids, loyal to their core, had accepted their fate without hesitation, their devotion to the Elven cause outweighing their fear.
But the ritual was not without its flaws. Its precision was unreliable, a cruel gamble even in the hands of the most skilled practitioners.
Unlike the Queen, whose unparalleled mastery as a Transcendent Mage allowed her to wield the ritual with accuracy — selecting specific memories to erase while preserving the essence of the individual — the High Elves lacked such finesse.
The ritual could strip away only the most recent memories, or if misfortune struck, it could obliterate everything: a lifetime of experiences, identity, and self.
Yet, despite this risk, the High Elves had no choice. The knowledge of the Queen’s death was too dangerous to remain in any mind, even one as loyal as a maid’s.
The four High Elves turned from the maids to face one another. The maids would be tended to soon, but first, the High Elves needed to address the greater crisis at hand.
These four were no ordinary Elves... they were the Queen’s closest concubines.
In the absence of a King, the Elven realm of Eldryth had always been ruled by the Queen alone, her strength as a Transcendent Mage rendering any other authority unnecessary.
Now, with her gone, the weight of leadership fell upon these four.
The strongest among them, the High Elf with silver-gold hair and piercing green eyes, stood at the center of their circle.
"This tragedy must remain a secret," Loryn declared, his gaze sweeping over his fellow consorts.
"We cannot allow a whisper of the Queen’s death to escape this chamber. Should our enemies... any of the other races learn of our weakness, the consequences would be catastrophic."
A shiver ran through the spines of the other three High Elves at the thought. The Elven realm of Eldryth had long stood as a bastion of power, its strength anchored by the Queen’s unmatched prowess.
Her status as the only Transcendent Mage in their history had made her a living legend, a warrior capable of fending off entire armies single-handedly.
Without her, Eldryth was vulnerable, its borders exposed to the ambitions of rival races who had long envied the Elves’ prosperity and beauty, and where well aware that none of them would pay any heed to the treaty. Only the strong had the right to demand peace.
Another of the Queen’s, a High Elf named Vamir, stepped forward.
His raven-black hair fell over his shoulders, framing a face that was both beautiful and fierce, his violet eyes glinting with urgency.
"Indeed," he said in a smooth voice. "We shall proclaim to our people that the Queen has entered closed cultivation, should questions arise. None must suspect the truth."
The others nodded in agreement, their expressions grim but resolute. Closed cultivation was a plausible excuse, as it was a practice they undertook to focus solely on increasing their power or attaining a breakthrough.
The excuse would buy them time, time to mourn, to plan, and to prepare for the storm that was surely coming.
Loryn’s jaw tightened, his green eyes darkening with a memory that sent a chill through the chamber.
"I caught a glimpse of the attacker... It was a human."
A collective gasp rippled through the group, the air growing heavy with disbelief.
A human? The very notion seemed absurd.
Humans were a young race, their magic rudimentary compared to the ancient arts of the Elves.
Even their strongest mages paled in comparison to the Queen’s transcendent power. Yet the evidence was undeniable... the Queen, the mightiest of their kind, had been felled in mere moments.
"That cannot be one of the human King, can it?" asked Caelar, another consort, his golden hair shimmering like sunlight on water. His voice wavered slightly, betraying the fear that gnawed at him.
"None of the Human Kings come close to the strength of our Queen, but surely not even they could... could do this."
Loryn shook his head with an unreadable expression. "I believe it cannot be them. The Human Kings’ power, while formidable are known to us. This... this was something else."
The fourth consort, Tharion, whose auburn hair glowed like embers in the faint light, clenched his fists in dread.
"But if the humans have someone this powerful, they must be planning an attack. They could be closer to defeating us than we ever imagined. We must begin preparations at once."
"Yes. We cannot afford to be caught unprepared. I will enter closed cultivation immediately to bolster my strength. We will need every ounce of power we can muster if we are to protect Eldryth."
The others murmured their agreement, their silent nods sealing their pact.
The weight of their responsibility pressed down upon them, but they were the Queen’s chosen, and they would not falter.
With their decision made, they turned their attention back to the maids, who sat quietly on the grand bed, their eyes fixed on the floor, awaiting their fate.
Loryn approached them first with graceful, yet purposeful movements.
"Faithful ones. The cleansing ritual is a heavy burden, one we would not ask of you if there were any other way. Your sacrifice will protect our people, our home and our future. Are you certain of your resolve?"
The maids nodded as one. "We are certain, my Lord," said the eldest among them. "For Eldryth, we will bear any cost."