Deep underground, beneath even the labyrinthine drainage halls of Drakensmar, lay ancient runes of elvish origin. Their inscriptions glowed faintly, radiating arcane energy to the damp, suffocating air.
A drenched woman staggered through the dim tunnels, her shimmering white hair plastered to her pale face. Every step was a battle.
Pain ran through her body. Her right arm wrapped tightly around her left, which hung limp at her side, paralyzed and ruined.
Blood seeped through the delicate fabric of her robes, leaving a stark trail of red in her wake.
Each breath came shallow and strained, but her eyes burned with fury as she replayed the events that had led her to this wretched state.
Humans.
They had violated the accords. They had dared to wield magic in secret, despite the catastrophic consequences such arrogance could invite.
And worst of all, there was one among them, a mere human girl, who commanded an obscene amount of mana with unsettling ease.
