The potion chamber was filled with thick stream when Raazik entered. Daeyal looked flustered and panicked, however Raazik noted that the liquid in the pool looked to be the perfect shade of blue. "You have done well," he said, genuinely satisfied with the man's work. "Find a way to spend your time productively, I have work to do." he ordered as a relieved Daeyal hurried out of the room. Raazik approached the pool, which was built into the stone floor of the chamber. At his feet, the pale blue liquid shimmered brightly and welcomed the Mahjarrat gracefully. With a soft gesture, the bowl rose out of the ground and levitated before him, waiting patiently for its next command. He raised both arms, and the dish tilted until it hung on its side; not a single drop of liquid escaping, seemingly magnetised to the bowl by magical means. Raazik gazed into the shining waters and began to concentrate, as a flurry of ripples emanated through the pool. His vision shifted, the world around him fell into blackness and a brand new one sprung forth before him.

It was a bright and vibrant land, a stark contrast to the dark and dusty fortress he had been standing in. He was looking down upon the lush forestry and flowing rivers from high in the sky. As he descended and drew closer to earth, he began to identify the crystalline structures he recognised as the Elven settlements of Tiranwnn. He lessened the distance between himself and the ground, to the point where his perspective was just a little higher than that of a walker, as though he was hovering above the grass and dirt. He soared through the busy city, surrounded by passersby who were oblivious to his spiritual presence. He passed through walls of wood and crystal as though they did not exist, like a phantom floating through the fairytale land. As he explored further, thunder was heard overhead, as thick black clouds encircled the city in a foreboding spiral, seemingly forming from nowhere. Eventually, he came face to face with what he sought; his staff, embedded into a weeping tree.

It called out to him longingly. It had been disturbed only moments ago, and Raazik could feel the remnants of power left behind by two elves. Raazik was surprised to learn that the staff had not been moved or destroyed, yet he was relieved that it remained in the possession of the Elves. Holding such simple values of peace and security, they were amongst the easiest races to persuade. Offering them safety was like offering gold to a dwarf. Withdrawing from the vision, the world around him melted and he found himself at Ghorrock once more. Now that he had located his ancient weapon, it was time to retrieve it. Besides, he had business to settle with the elves…

[center]***[/center]

Rhydian stood atop the crystal watchtower. He surveyed the East as far as he could see, scrutinising it for even the slightest detail that seemed out of place. The province was considered at risk by the rumoured return of the Faceless One, and all of the Crystal Guard were called into action, should an attack be made. The last time the foul Mahjarrat had attacked, he had ambushed from within the city itself, bringing his grotesque creatures of the abyss with him. Rhydian had been fortunate enough to have not lost any loved ones to the battle, however he was amongst the lucky few. Since Seren's instatement of the Darian, they were protected from such atrocities, and so all efforts were made on ensuring all entrances to the realm were safeguarded. 

He mused over how suddenly the tempest had formed above him, like some twisted maelstrom hanging over the usually pleasant settlement. He was convinced it was the work of dark magick, as were many of the townsfolk, hiding their young ones away in the wake of the torrential rain, wind and lightning. No, something was definitely brewing in the air tonight. He boasted no verse of the arcane, but even he could taste the sickness of evil. And he would do whatever it takes to ensure not a single elf was harmed by the Faceless One again. 

His pledge was soon called into effect. As if by magic, as soon as he had committed to preserving the lives of all elves, a silhouette emerged through the dark fog that had encompassed the city. After a tense few moments, the figure limped into view. It was an elf. An elf with severe, untreated wounds, from which thick, red blood seeped. Rhydian called for a medical unit and ordered that the doors to the city be opened at once, his heart filled with passion as he used his agile to rapidly descend the tower. As the injured elf hobbled through the crystal gates, she coughed and spluttered, flecks of red escaping her bleeding mouth. "What in Seren's name happened to you?" he exclaimed, visibly worried for the safety of the young woman.

"I gathering in woods and I lost," she coughed. "And then… Then they there, they all appear!" she said, her face stricken with fear at the memory of whatever had attacked her, leaving her skin and clothes torn severely. She was only a very young girl, definitely under a hundred years of age, and her naivety only added to the sympathy Rhydian held for her. 

"They appeared? Who appeared?" he asked, as a group of medics began to bandage her wounds. The young elf simply sighed, clearly traumatised by the events she had been subjected to. 

"Big, mean creatures!" she croaked, tears in her bloodied eyes. "Same ones in pictures, from when the Faceless One fight us. Make nasty sounds." she said, crying as she recalled the evils she had faced. Rhydian hugged her tight and reassured her that everything was going to be okay, though the medics could see the grave look on his face as he addressed them over her shoulder. 

"We need to take her to the citadel. Lord Arweinydd must be notified," he said, sternly, before ordering that the gates be closed and their guard strengthened, and leading the young girl by the hand to the Crystal Citadel.