"Are you sure about this?" Zarnak asked, the doubt and skepticism still apparent on his face.

"Why do you think we risked our lives to went on a scouting mission?" Storm said, still chewing on the jerky.

"You know this is not a simple matter Storm. Your accusations could lead to breaking the trust within the unified races." Hamdal spoke up in a grave tone. His brows creased in worry.

"But if nothing is done, then our destruction is inevitable. Even if we don't lose the fight in the frontlines, we could crumble from within."

"You mean to say…"

"This could lead to a civil war." Storm completed Zarnak's words.

The mood got tense. All of them stood in silence. Their foreheads creased with worry as sighs escaped in a wave.

"Headmaster," Storm called out, breaking the silence. He had a solemn expression on his face, bringing Hamdal's gaze up, towards him.

"I saw him there. The dark elves have really betrayed us. The eclipse beasts have spread their roots in the other races too. If you keep still and do nothing, the corruption could reach even the high elves. And if it does, out last lifeline, the World tree would perish."

Silence descended again. Hamdal's face twisted in fury and annoyance. "These fucking motherfuckers!" He gritted his teeth hard. An unbearable bloodlust flowed out of him, suffocating the others inside, even Storm to an extent.

"H-Headmaster!" Zarnak bellowed, unable to endure anymore.

The bloodlust and pressure vanished instantly as Hamdal was pulled back from his rage. He looked around himself and saw the others gasping for breath, especially Rowena, who was a mage.

"I-I...I lost control for a moment." Hamdal said apologetically.

"What do we do now headmaster?" Zarnak asked as everyone's focus shifted to him. All of them staring at him, waiting for the words he would speak out.

"We can't keep still that's for sure. We will send and delegation to the Elfenheim. Let's just update them on this. The rest, I'll discuss this during during the upcoming unified assembly." Hamdal said, his face fierce and determined.

******

The air was thick with the scent of ancient wood and ozone, a fragrance carried down from the dizzying heights of the World Tree.

Its gargantuan trunk, a mottled grey and emerald cylinder, blotted out a massive portion of the sky, its highest branches truly vanishing into the perpetual cloud cover that clung to the upper atmosphere.

Nestled into the massive, winding roots that spiraled down like petrified rivers, stood the White Citadel. Its alabaster towers and graceful arches were blindingly bright against the dark earth, their foundations literally woven into the fibrous network of the World Tree itself.

Inside, the polished obsidian floor of the Prime Minister's wing reflected the scant, colored light filtering through tall, stained-glass windows. Harlon, a young High Elf warrior in his early twenties, moved with a silent, purposeful stride.

He was clad in lightweight, dark leather armor interwoven with silver filigree, the uniform of the Citadel Guard's elite.

He reached the heavy, double doors of the Prime Minister's inner office, carved from a single, moon-white slab of ancient oak.

Taking a breath, he raised a gauntleted hand and rapped twice, the sound surprisingly muted by the immense thickness of the wood.

A voice, smooth and resonant as a plucked harp string, drifted from within: "Enter, Harlon."

He pushed the doors open and stepped into a chamber dominated by high ceilings and shelves laden with glowing scrolls.

Seated behind a long, crescent-shaped desk was Lord Legolas, the Prime Minister.

His beauty was legendary, even among his kin; a middle-aged elf with silver hair that cascaded to his waist and shrewd, intelligent eyes.

He was perched in a chair with a soaring, wing-like headrest, making him seem both regal and somewhat frail against the scale of the room.

Harlon snapped his heels together and placed a fist over his heart, the formal military salute of the Unified Elven Guard. "My Lord Prime Minister, I await your command."

Legolas offered a slight, knowing smile. "At ease, Harlon. Your swiftness is commendable, as always." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur that seemed to suck the noise from the vast room. "I have a task for you. A matter of the utmost discretion."

He steepled his fingers, his gaze distant. "You are to travel to the Veridian Academy. We have reason to believe that a student there is suddenly... paramount to our unified security. I require you to bring her back, swiftly and safely."

Harlon frowned slightly. "My Lord, I require a name, a description, perhaps the nature of the threat?"

"No," Legolas replied, cutting him off with a soft but firm wave of his hand.

"Not right now. You will be informed by our envoy present in the academy when you arrive."

"This is an operation that exists outside of documentation, Harlon. Just know that this girl is critical, not just for the High Elves, but for the Unified Race as a whole. You are to treat this retrieval as if you were transporting the World Tree's heartwood itself. Her protection is the protection of us all. Do you understand the weight of this trust?"

"I do, my Lord," Harlon said instantly, the air of mystery only steeling his resolve. "I shall depart immediately." He executed a crisp half-turn and began to move toward the doors.

"Harlon." Legolas's voice was sharp.

The young warrior stopped dead, turning back to face the desk.

The Prime Minister sighed, a weary expression briefly crossing his face before being replaced by a wry, familial smile. "And one other thing. You must take Princess Elowen with you."

Harlon's composure wavered for the first time. "My Lord?"

"She has been pestering me for a mission outside the Citadel walls for the past fortnight," Legolas explained with a roll of his eyes.

"A minor excursion, she keeps calling it. It is either that, or I face the wrath of my sister, her mother, who believes I am stifling her spirit. Consider her your shadow guard. Keep her safe, try to keep her out of trouble, and bring her back with your... special cargo. It will appease her, and frankly, it will give me some peace."

He lifted a scroll tied with silver thread and tapped it on the desk. "Go now. And may the Root-Father guide your steps."

Harlon bowed deeply, masking his surprise. A secret mission to save the elven world, and he had to babysit the Princess? "As you command, My Lord."

He turned and slipped out, the heavy doors closing silently behind him, leaving Legolas alone beneath the boughs of the towering World Tree.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut, swallowing the sound of Harlon's retreating footsteps.

The vast chamber instantly felt colder, the silence deepening around Lord Legolas. He sat utterly still for a long moment, his silver hair catching the faint light.

He didn't move, yet his attention was now directed toward the deepest shadows of the room, near a column carved with the twisting boughs of the World Tree.

"You may step forward," Legolas commanded, his voice devoid of the smooth warmth he had used moments ago. It was flat, hard as granite.

From the oppressive darkness beside the column, a figure coalesced. He wasn't simply stepping out; he seemed to detach from the very gloom itself.

Clad in armor of midnight black that absorbed light, the elf was visibly different, his skin a deep, smoky charcoal, his eyes glimmering like distant amber embers.

He was a Dark Elf, an agent operating under the highest level of secrecy within the Citadel.

The Dark Elf remained silent, merely inclining his head in acknowledgement.

"The information you provided," Legolas began, his eyes fixed on the agent's unreadable face. "The girl at Veridian Academy. Is it accurate?"

"It is accurate, My Lord," the Dark Elf replied, his voice a dry whisper that barely disturbed the air.

Legolas nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing fractionally. He then leaned forward, his expression hardening.

"And what of your kinsmen? The reports from the Outer Marches grow more unsettling by the week. Are the Dark Elves truly planning betrayal against the Unified Race? Speak plainly."

The Dark Elf shifted subtly, a motion like oil rippling under dark cloth. "My Lord, I am... half affirmative," he admitted, the unusual hesitation heavy in the air.

"The unrest is palpable, the whispers of secession are growing louder in the lower enclaves. They feel confined by the treaties, humiliated by our integration."

His voice dropped lower. "However, the true plans, the timetable, the leadership, the military maneuvers, remain unreachable for me. I am not seated high enough among the ruling council, not yet. The deepest conspiracies are tightly shielded."

A knot of pure fury tightened Legolas's face. The beauty of his features twisted into a mask of cold rage so profound it made him look like a vengeful god. His fists clenched so tightly on his lap that the knuckles turned white against his silver skin.

He inhaled slowly, holding the breath until the anger seemed to recede, smoothed over by years of rigorous political discipline.

"I see," Legolas finally said, his voice now dangerously calm. "Then you will endeavor to gain that access. You will get closer." He said commandingly.

"Thank you for this information, incomplete though it may be. Continue your vigil. Keep your eyes everywhere, and update me the moment you have confirmation of an active plot. Is that understood?"

The Dark Elf gave a sharp, silent nod. Without another word, he melted backward. He didn't open the door or move to the windows; he simply dissolved into the column's shadow, leaving no trace of his passing.

Legolas was alone again. He looked down at his desk, his fists still balled.

The calm composure he had forced minutes ago shattered, replaced by an unspeakable fury.

He brought his fist down onto the polished wood, not hard enough to damage it, but with the full, silent force of his dread and anger.

The very foundations of the Elven unity, built over centuries beneath the protective gaze of the World Tree, were trembling, and he knew it.

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