Far away, in the shimmering, mystical realm of Orzaroth, beneath the dense canopy of its ancient forest, an otherworldly ceremony was taking place.

The towering trees swayed gently, their leaves whispering in a language older than time, while the air crackled with an electric energy that seemed to pulse from the very earth itself.

The elves of this realm were gathered in reverence, forming an immaculate circle around a massive, glowing tree—the Tree of Life.

The tree’s colossal roots dug deep into the soil, pulsing with an inner light that gave life to the entire forest.

Its branches reached toward the heavens, their tips seemingly brushing the very stars, while its leaves glimmered with an ethereal glow.

The elves, adorned in flowing robes of green and gold, stood silent, their sharp, angular faces turned toward the tree in anticipation.

Their leader, Prince Fernon, stood at the center, his presence commanding and regal.

Prince Fernon was the embodiment of elven beauty and power.

His tall, lean frame was draped in intricately woven silks that shimmered in the soft glow of the tree.

His silver hair fell in waves down his back, framing his chiseled features and sharp, sapphire eyes.

He was the chosen protector of the elves, the one destined to lead them to their next evolution—the heavenly elves. But today, his purpose was more personal.

Today, he would choose his wife from the bearded fruit of the Tree of Life.

A hush fell over the crowd as Fernon raised his hand, his voice low but resonant.

“Brothers, sisters of Orzaroth, today marks the beginning of our ascension. The Tree of Life has borne its fruit, and from it, we shall rise above the limitations of this world. Today, I will choose the one who will stand beside me as we guide our people into the future.”

The elves nodded solemnly, one could see their eyes were bright with ambition.

They had long prepared for this day.

For centuries, they had guarded the Tree of Life, waiting for it to bear its sacred fruit. And now, that time has come.

They would finally become the dominant race of the Orzaroth Realm, free to rid the world of beastmen, humans, and especially the dark elves, their sworn enemies.

Nothing would stand in their way.

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Not after today.

Around the base of the great tree, saplings began to emerge.

Each one was like a cocoon, its exterior a soft, silken shell that shimmered with a pale, golden light. Inside each sapling was an elf—an adult, fully formed, but asleep.

These elves were not born in the traditional sense.

They were created by the Tree of Life, formed from its essence to be the purest of their kind.

They were perfect, flawless beings, untouched by the imperfections of the world.

One of these would be Fernon’s bride.

A murmur rippled through the gathered elves as the saplings appeared in greater numbers, their soft glow illuminating the forest.

The air was thick with tension and excitement.

This was more than a marriage.

This was destiny unfolding before them.

The elves believed that Prince Fernon’s union with one of these beings would bring them the strength and unity they needed to conquer the realm.

Chants began to fill the air, soft at first, but growing louder as the elves lifted their voices in unison.

Their words flowed in the ancient elven tongue, a prayer to the Tree of Life, asking for its guidance in this sacred moment.

The forest around them seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their chant, the very trees swaying in time with their voices.

Prince Fernon stepped forward, his eyes scanning the row of saplings.

Each one held a potential bride, each one was perfect, yet only one could stand at his side.

He moved gracefully between them, his sharp gaze lingering on each cocoon as if waiting for a sign.

And then, the Tree of Life responded.

A low, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through the ground and up into the saplings.

The tree’s roots glowed brighter, their light intensifying as the saplings began to shift and pulse.

From the depths of the tree, a soft, melodic voice echoed in Fernon’s mind, guiding him.

He stopped before one particular sapling, his hand hovering over its soft surface.

The elves held their breath as they watched him, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Fernon’s fingers brushed the surface of the cocoon.

Instantly, the soft shell began to shimmer and shift.

The other saplings remained still, but this one responded to his touch, as if it knew it had been chosen.

The elven prince’s heart quickened.

He could feel it—the connection.

This was the one.

As the crowd watched in silence, the outer shell of the cocoon began to peel away, its soft layers dissolving into the air like mist.

Slowly, the figure within began to emerge, her delicate form bathed in the light of the Tree of Life.

She was breathtaking. Her long, silvery green hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, her skin as smooth and pale as moonlight.

Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, as though she were still caught in a peaceful slumber. Her robes, woven from the very essence of the tree, shimmered like liquid gold, flowing over her body in perfect harmony with her every curve.

She was, in every sense, the epitome of elven beauty.

Prince Fernon stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her face.

As his fingers brushed her skin, her eyes slowly fluttered open.

And that was when Fernon froze.

Those eyes.

They were not the soft, pale blue of an elf.

No, they were a deeper hue, a color he had never seen before.

They were sharp, dangerous—full of life, but not the life he expected.

The gathered elves whispered amongst themselves, unaware of Fernon’s sudden unease.

They did not yet see what he saw.

To them, this was still the chosen bride, the one who would elevate their race. But Fernon’s heart raced as his gaze lingered on her face.

And then he saw it—a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

A fire.

Something primal and fierce.

Something wild and destructive.

Just what kind of elf is this?

Solluha’r.

That was her name, though Fernon did not know it. He felt incredibly attracted.

She looks like she was not just an elf created by the Tree of Life.

She could feel that was something far more.

She was someone from another realm.

Someone tied to another life.

Another world.

Without knowing why, Fernon’s hand pulled away, a cold dread settling into his chest.

His lips parted to speak, but the words died on his tongue.

There was something in those eyes—a memory, a connection to something… someone else.

He is sure of it.

The elves still celebrated behind him, oblivious to the truth.

They saw only the beauty and perfection of their new queen-to-be. But Fernon saw the shadow of another life in those eyes.

A life he knew nothing about.

A life that had nothing to do with Orzaroth or their ascension.

As the last pieces of the cocoon dissolved into the air, revealing her fully,

Fernon felt a shiver run down his spine.

She was perfect, yes. But she was not theirs.

And yet, no one else noticed.

To them, she was simply the future.

The one who would bring them power.

But to Fernon, she was a mystery.

The scene ended as Solluha’r’s face was fully revealed, her eyes locking onto Fernon’s, her expression unreadable.

She was calm, composed, but there was something in her gaze.

Something that hinted at a past not yet uncovered.

A past tied to a different realm entirely.

Suddenly, the sapling closed again, so with her glorious eyes.

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