The Original Realm

The Sacred Hall was steeped in silence after Sylveria's declaration, her words hanging in the air like an unbroken storm cloud. Luke, Eleanor, and Aldric stood before the eight elders, each one processing the weight of what had just been said.

"The Hands of Fate have made their move across Aethereon," Sylveria began, her voice measured but with an undeniable edge of urgency. "They've secured two relics so far: the Dragon Relic of Pride, and the Dark Elf Relic of Corruption. If they are allowed to continue, their power will grow unchecked."

The room seemed to shrink as her words settled. Luke shifted his feet, uncomfortable under the piercing gaze of the situation. The stained-glass windows behind them cast fractured rainbows across the polished stone floor, their beauty starkly at odds with the gravity of the discussion.

"And you believe the next target is the Elf Relic of Nature?" Elder Thalrien's deep voice cut through the room like a blade.

Sylveria nodded, her silver hair glinting in the ethereal light. "The Relic of Nature is one of the most powerful artifacts tied to the balance of our world. If it falls into their hands, the consequences will be catastrophic."

Luke frowned, his mind racing. "How are you so sure? Couldn't they go after any of the other relics?"

Before Sylveria could answer, Aldric spoke, his voice unusually grim. "Because one of the Hands of Fate is already here, in the kingdom."

Luke's jaw dropped, and a ripple of alarm passed through the elders. Even Eleanor's confident demeanor faltered, her eyes widening. "What?" Luke stammered. "How do you know that?"

Aldric gave a small, grave nod, his usually vibrant energy replaced with solemnity. "I can't tell you who they are, what they look like, or even what their ability is. But my essence doesn't lie. The average advent within this kingdom has spiked dramatically over the last few days. It's like the average of a class suddenly increasing. You don't know who's causing it until you directly look at their work."

The analogy did little to ease the growing tension in the room. Elder Elaris leaned forward, her sharp gaze locking onto Aldric. "If that's the case, it must be the Elf Hand of Fate. They'd blend in here better than any other race. An undead, elemental, or machine would be far more conspicuous."

Eleanor crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "That doesn't make sense. Almost everyone knows about Aldric's ability. Why would the Hand of Fate assume they could stay hidden in the first place?"

Aldric's whiskers twitched with irritation, his tufted beard seeming to bristle along with his words. "Because I haven't set foot outside since we arrived. Even the inn where we stayed is connected to the Sacred Tree. No one in the public has seen me. As far as the Hand of Fate knows, they're still flying under the radar."

Elder Fenryl adjusted his spectacles, his voice calm and deliberate. "Then in simpler terms, we hold the advantage. They do not know we are aware of their presence."

Luke's mind whirled as he pieced the information together. He could feel the weight of the elders' gazes, each one judging his worthiness to be part of their plans. "What's the plan? Are we supposed to hunt them down?"

Thalrien's voice rumbled with authority, his presence dominating the room. "No. That would expose us. Instead, we will wait. The Elf Relic of Nature is too critical to their plans to ignore. They will come to us."

Sylveria nodded, her posture as unyielding as ever. "We will station ourselves at the relic and lay a trap. If they make a move, we'll be ready."

Luke's stomach twisted as a troubling thought surfaced. "Wait a second. If the Hand of Fate's advent is so powerful that it's raising the average energy of the entire kingdom, doesn't that mean they're insanely strong? What happens when we actually face them?"

Aldric's usual bravado was absent as he answered, his voice somber. "They could easily kill you both."

The bluntness of his words struck like a physical blow. Luke and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, a flicker of fear crossing their faces. Even the ambient hum of magic in the Sacred Hall seemed to quiet, as though the very walls were absorbing the gravity of the situation.

"Then why bring us at all?" Luke asked, his voice laced with frustration. "Why not just keep us as far away from this as possible?"

Elder Luthaine's serene voice cut through the rising tension, her calm demeanor acting as a balm. "Because we do not know the nature of the Hand of Fate's essence."

Fenryl chimed in, adjusting his glasses again, his ink-stained fingers betraying his scholarly nature. "Essences can be straightforward, like controlling wood or water. But they can also be unpredictable—something like the reversal of forces, making the strong weak and the weak strong. The presence of individuals like you and Eleanor counters that possibility."

The explanation hung in the air, its implications sinking in. The elders' plan was both strategic and a stark reminder of the stakes. Luke couldn't help but feel like a pawn on a board where the stakes were far beyond his understanding.

A heavy silence filled the hall, broken only by the faint rustle of robes and the distant hum of magical wards. Luke's fists clenched as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. He didn't like it, but the logic was undeniable. The fear simmering in his chest was an unwelcome companion.

Finally, Eleanor broke the silence, her voice cutting through the tension with surprising levity. "So, Sylveria, am I getting paid for this?"

Sylveria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in a rare show of exasperation. "Prepare yourselves. We are to leave for the Elf Relic immediately."

The tension remained, but as the meeting adjourned, Luke couldn't shake the gnawing unease in his gut. He glanced at Eleanor, who gave him a small shrug, though the worry in her eyes mirrored his own. Aldric hopped onto his shoulder, his tufted body unusually quiet.

This wasn't just another mission. This was a confrontation with the unknown, and the stakes had never been higher. The weight of Sylveria's words lingered as they left the hall, the ominous promise of what was to come trailing behind them like an unshakable shadow.