The treetops of Jaya Forest rose like arrows toward a sky veiled in silvery-gray clouds.
At the heart of this sea of green, a clearing opened, bathed in a soft light filtering through the canopy.
There, at its center, stood a white stone altar. Around it, five elves in deep green robes formed a circle, their eyes closed, hands raised to the sky. The air thrummed with a subtle energy.
Archmage Eryndor, leader of the Grand Arcanum, stood atop the altar. His silver hair cascaded down to his waist, and his striking violet eyes scanned the horizon. His robe, embroidered with golden floral patterns, floated lightly as if stirred by a breeze that did not exist. In his right hand, he held a gnarled wooden staff, its tip glowing with an emerald light.
"Brothers and sisters," he began, his clear voice resonating in the clearing, "the humans stir along their coasts, the orcs growl in their valleys, and the dragons… the dragons dare to tread the continent's soil once more."
A murmur rippled among the mages. One of them, a black-haired elf, opened her eyes. Her pupils shone with a silvery light.
"Damaris. The Queen of Lust. She has dared to set foot on human lands."
Eryndor lowered his staff, placing it gently upon the altar. "Damaris is not like the other Dragon Kings. She does not seek destruction. Her ambitions are… more insidious."
Another mage, a pale-skinned elf with golden eyes, spoke up.
"She seeks to corrupt, which is worse than destroying."
Eryndor nodded. "Thalion is right. Our scouts report that a human paladin, one Aldric Pendragon, was seen on the coast where she appeared. Since then, he has vanished. Dead… or worse."
Sylvara frowned. "Worse? You think she has…?"
"Possible," Eryndor replied. "If this paladin lives, he may be under her sway."
"And the other Dragon Kings?" asked a third mage, a man with sharp features and flaming red hair. "If Damaris acts, the others will not remain idle. Gehenna, or worse—Asmodeus…"
Eryndor raised a hand to cut him off.
"Calm yourself, Faerindel. The Seven Thrones are rarely united. Each Dragon King pursues their own ambitions, and Damaris often clashes with her peers. But we cannot ignore the threat they all pose."
"Then what do we do? Sit and watch while the other races slaughter each other? Or act?"
Eryndor fixed her with a look. "You speak like a young elf, Sylvara. Impatient. But caution has preserved our people for millennia."
"Caution? Caution cost us the Silver Glades two centuries ago, when the orcs ravaged our borders! Caution left us powerless against human invasions! If we keep waiting, Jaya will wither! The elves of Akkadia will have even more reason to mock us."
"Sylvara is right about one thing, Eryndor," Thalion interjected. "Humans are increasing their patrols along our northern borders. Our silence could be seen as weakness."
Eryndor closed his eyes, his face unreadable. Then he opened them again.
"Very well. We will act. But not through war. Not yet. Sylvara, you will lead an expedition to the coast where Damaris was seen. Investigate her intentions and the fate of this paladin. If she poses a direct threat to us, we will strike."
Sylvara inclined her head, a satisfied smile on her lips. "As you command, Archmage. I will depart at dawn."
---
Night fell over Jaya, cloaking the forest in darkness, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the glow of fireflies. In a small clearing apart from the main camp, Sylvara studied a parchment.
"You're too impatient, Sylvara," came a voice. Thalion sat beside her. "The Archmage is right. Rushing could cost us dearly."
"And waiting will cost us everything. You've seen the reports. The humans dig trenches near our borders. The orcs pillage to the west. And now this dragoness… Damaris strolls about as if she owns the place."
"You know what kind of being Damaris is."
Sylvara smirked. "I am not weak-minded, Thalion. Her tricks won't work on me."
"Don't underestimate her. Many of our own have fallen into sin because of her."
"Then I will keep my guard up. I will hunt her, learn what she wants, and if necessary, kill her myself."
Thalion sighed, standing. He stretched out a hand, and flames rose slightly, dancing at his command. "And the paladin? If he's alive, he could be a valuable source of information."
"If he's under her sway, he's already lost. Humans are weak. Their Spiritual Energy makes them vulnerable to corruption."
Thalion shook his head. "Not all. This man is a Pendragon… a family tied to a powerful entity. If he's survived Damaris, he could be an asset against Xers."
Sylvara stood, brushing off her robe. "I don't care. If he stands in my way, he will fall."
---
In the heart of the Scarlet City, a grand hall rose several stories high.
Damaris stood before her Scarlet Throne, carved from a massive ruby that pulsed with an inner light. She wore a black silk gown that hugged her curves perfectly, leaving her arms bare.
Six other thrones loomed indistinctly, their occupants mere silhouettes.
"A month," rumbled Vorthak, King of Wrath, from his throne of black basalt. "A month you've been toying with this human paladin, Damaris."
Damaris' amber eyes narrowed. "My interrogation methods are… more refined than yours, Vorthak. Brutality is not always the answer."
A crystalline laugh echoed from the Silver Throne. Mirthia, Queen of Envy, leaned forward, her eyes shifting color with every heartbeat. "Interrogation? Is that what you call your little trysts, dear sister?"
"Enough," a deep, slow voice interjected.
Kronos, King of Sloth, barely opened his eyes from his throne of gray crystal. "The council… is not… a place… for gossip."
"I have obtained valuable information. This paladin has told me far more than your tortures ever could, Vorthak."
"Information?" Nergal, King of Gluttony, hefted his massive mace from his black obsidian throne. "Or are you simply seeking to justify your… particular appetites?"
"Watch your words, Nergal…"
Belphegor, King of Pride, straightened on his massive golden throne. "My army could crush these insects in a matter of hours."
"Your brute force impresses only you, Belphegor," Mirthia shot back. "Humans make up for their weakness with numbers and cunning. One yesterday, a hundred today, and a thousand tomorrow."
Damaris nodded. "Mirthia is right. The kingdom of Astoria, their city-states… If we let them unite…"
"Then we strike now," Vorthak roared. "Burn their cities, reduce their armies to ash! What are we waiting for?"
"Wisdom," murmured a hissing voice.