Chapter 125: Arrival in the Elven Kingdom
The golden skyships of Eldoria descended upon Sylvethien, the heart of the Elven Kingdom.
Unlike the war-torn ruins the Vanguard had grown accustomed to, Sylvethien was breathtaking.
Towering silver trees stretched into the heavens, their leaves shimmering like emerald fireflies. Bridges woven from pure mana connected floating platforms, where elves in flowing robes of moonlight and starlight moved with grace. The scent of ancient magic filled the air, mixing with the melodies of singing birds and enchanted waterfalls.
It was a kingdom untouched by time.
And for once—there was no battlefield waiting for them.
Kael, stepping onto the pristine marble landing, exhaled.
"This," he murmured, "is different."
Cassian, stretching lazily, smirked. "See? I told you we deserved a vacation."
Evelyne raised a brow. "This isn't a vacation."
Lucian crossed his arms. "It's politics."
Mira sighed. "Which might be worse than war."
Rael, scanning the surroundings, nodded. "Still, it's nice not having to dodge arrows the moment we land."
Selene, however, wasn't relaxed.
Her silver eyes flickered with caution as she observed the assembled figures waiting for them.
The High Elven Council.
Dressed in flowing robes of green and gold, their expressions were unreadable, but their presence alone radiated power.
At the center stood Queen Sylvaine Vaelora, ruler of the High Elves.
She was ethereal, almost unreal.
Long silver hair cascaded past her waist, her violet eyes glowing faintly with wisdom that spanned centuries. A delicate crown of woven starlight rested upon her brow, and around her, the very air shimmered—as if the world itself bent to her will.
Beside her stood another figure, dressed in darker robes, with piercing crimson eyes.
Prince Aelric Vaelora.
The Dark Elven heir.
His presence was sharper, his aura coiled like a waiting serpent. Unlike his mother, there was no warmth in his gaze—only careful calculation.
Kael already knew.
This would not be simple.
Queen Sylvaine's voice was calm yet commanding.
"Welcome, warriors of Eldoria. Your deeds have reached even our forests."
Her violet gaze swept across the Vanguard—lingering on Kael and Lucian.
"But power alone does not earn favor here. Strength must be tempered with wisdom. With purpose."
Lucian met her gaze evenly. "We're here as envoys, not conquerors."
Prince Aelric scoffed. "And yet, the battlefield clings to you like a second skin."
Selene's expression remained unreadable. "Would you prefer if we came weak?"
Aelric smirked. "No. I prefer knowing who the threats are."
Tension flickered through the air.
Before it could escalate, Queen Sylvaine raised a delicate hand.
"Enough, Aelric. They are guests."
Aelric stepped back, his expression unreadable.
The Queen turned back to Kael.
"The Convergence is a sacred tradition, held every five years. It is a time of diplomacy, of treaties, of resolving old wounds."
Her eyes darkened slightly. "Not creating new ones."
Kael inclined his head. "We understand."
Sylvaine studied him for a long moment.
Then, she smiled.
"Then let the Convergence begin."
For the first time in years, the Vanguard wasn't preparing for war.
They were given private quarters within a grand Elven palace, overlooking the floating rivers of Sylvethien.
The next few days would be filled with formal meetings, political games, and quiet power struggles.
But tonight?
Tonight was about understanding a world beyond the battlefield.
And for the first time—they could breathe.