Arinthal looked at the large city of Osilon beneath him from his private chambers, deep in thought. He used to love watching the golden city with its glorious towers and exquisite gardens but now it seemed like a treacherous wasteland.
'Arinthal' a voice called out from behind him.
'What is it that you seek, Ethlbert?' he responded, his voice merely a whisper.
'I came to give you this' Ethlbert handed him a piece of parchment.
Arinthal took the rolled material and stretched it out. A set of runes were drawn on it. He frowned since the runes made absolutely no sense to him.
'What does it mean?' he asked his sister's fiancé.
'I don't know either but someone carved it unto her flesh after she died. No one knows what it is, as far as I know' Ethlbert sighed and inched closer to Arinthal. 'Whoever did this, is now an enemy of the House Aethon. I swear my life by it' he declared, his anger so strong that he gripped the crystal balustrade and nearly shattered it.
Arinthal looked at the heir to the House Aethon with cold indifference, yet a glimmer of admiration deep in his heart burnt for Ethlbert.
Just then, a loud blaring sound washed over the palace grounds, produced by six large horns from six castle towers.
'We better get going. You wouldn't want to miss this' Arinthal turned away and started to walk out out of his private chambers. Ethlbert kept looking at the young prince's retreating back, and only one word could describe the invisible miasma that surrounded him. Doom
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The funeral was conducted under the World Tree; an enormous tree, having a surface area of about a hundred kilometers and it's roots extending towards thousands of meters. Around it, seven rivers flowed, with it situated in the centre of the largest of the seven.
At the foot of one of these roots, a large gathering of elves, about six hundred of them stood. They were gathered around the funeral pyre and clothed in a variety of white robes.
Two elves carried Naudra's corpse and gently placed it at the centre of the wide pure. A blind elven woman walked towards the edge of the pyre and placed her hands on the lush grass beneath her.
A golden glow extended from her palms and spread, engulfing the pyre completely. As the light faded, she started to recite some spells of ancient magic that no one could comprehend.
She was a woman without a name, a force of nature. Her title was the Priestess of the World tree and the goddess Aethrid. Both entities spoke through her, with a fraction of their power being embedded into her old and frail heart. She was reverred by all and for her to even show her face at Naudra's funeral meant the world to House Calanthir.
"Step forth, Fox of Fiannarel," she called out loudly.
The Patriarch of the Fiannarel House walked towards her and stopped when he was a few metres away from her.
"Phoenix of Elyndor."
He walked forward and stood opposite the saintess, on the other side of the pyre.
"Dragon of Calanthir."
King Roran approached and stood at the farthest end of the pyre.
"Xerveth of Mythren."
Again a man walked out of the crowd and stood by the pyre.
"Bahar of Aethon."
Finally the last head of the five great houses approached, completing the round formation around the pyre.
"Place your hands on the faggots," she ordered.
They did as they were told and this time without being asked, they channeled their velori through the dry wood.
White flames spread out from each of their palms and completely buried Naudra's body. White particles started to emerge from where it had once been and travelled into the huge crown of the World Tree.
Arinthal looked at the whole event with disgust. He believed that the very society of Eldrida had killed his sister. He was going to get vengeance and he wasn't going to falter. Whoever had driven that sword into his sister's heart had just made himself the unluckiest person in Calyndor.