Arweinydd quietly pondered over the ultimatum he had just been given. Each second felt like an hour as he concentrated heavily, considering every outcome, every possibility, but not once relinquishing his scrutinising watch of the dark lord stood at the far end of the hall. Rhoswen stepped forward, placing her hand on the crystal throne and speaking in a clear but gentle voice - unphased by darkness which lurked before her.

“The elves are resilient and numerous. We would suffer loss, but eventually prevail. Do not test the elves, Faceless One. Our kind live long and the bitterness of your last visit has yet to settle. We have waited and we have prepared; do not assume we would be so easy to conquer.”

“Enough.” Arweinydd barked. Determined to halt Lord Raazik’s retaliation before it came to fruition. Knowing full well of his unpredictable behaviour, it was best to maintain this lucid and benign state as long as possible.

The dark lord stood silent, his faceless gaze unbroken from the elf. Could Arweinydd really surrender the staff? If he was to overlook the dangers of handing a weapon back to a blood thirsty Mahjarrat whose very existence was to serve the Empty God, intent on global conquest, he would still be left with the difficulty of giving into the demands of an enemy. Handing over the staff could merely be a fiendish ploy to assess his weakness; something he could only further exploit. His train of thought was sliced by the familiar silence of Rhoswen’s call.

“Your fears are well founded and your questioning absolute. But he will obtain the staff, the equinox demands it so. We must trust the path Seren has laid for us. It will allow us to delve deeper into the mystery of the delicate equilibrium the two of you share.” She said, her voice bouncing and echoing within his head.

“You assume he would listen to reason and collected thought. He is no elf, he is a Mahjarrat. Born of war and harbinger of devastation. Can we trust in one who turned lush forest into soot, and brought crystal towers to their foundation?” He questioned.

“We have little choice. Our time is limited, and the guidance of Seren is absent.”

“Then my decision is made. Let us at least attempt to draw him from the city.” He spoke, as Rhoswen’s presence diminished and faded from his mind.

“Tick tock, tick tock …” The Mahjarrat spoke in his taunting tone once more. “What of Elven hospitality, Arweinydd? It’s rude to keep a guest waiting! Is your decision made?”

“I will escort you to your staff, but on the premise of one condition.” The Elf lord demanded indisputably. “You will not only not bring harm a single elf or creature within the elven realm, but also take heed of reasonable proposition upon receipt of your staff. Then you and your dark taint may leave these lands, and leave it to peace once more.”