"'How dare a lesser being summon us from our realms,'" the Druid King began, voice heavy with indignation, reverberating off the golden walls. "'Who do you think you are to command-"
"Shut up," Amon's voice cut through the hall, echoing like a wave that rolled across every surface. The sound itself carried weight, reverberating into the minds of the gathered Kings, twisting their certainty into fleeting madness.
"That is not why I called you here," Amon continued, his cane resting casually upon the throne. His long hair cascaded over the armrest, glinting faintly with a spectral sheen. His eyes bore only the slightest hint of interest, yet his expression radiated the cold inevitability of death, and the subtle illusions of fate hung about him like mist.
He leaned forward slightly, the movement deliberate, drawing the two summoned Kings into his silent gravity.
"I do not thank you for coming," he said, voice low, measured, "but I thank the Lord for sparing your lives."
"You dare-" the Beast Kin King began, teeth flashing, voice dripping with challenge.
"Delusional," Amon said, devoid of mercy. "You still do not see who stands behind you."
The other two were about to say something, but instantly turned their heads in intrigue. Why intrigued? Because their dreams had lied and spoke to them truths made from false beliefs. They were the strongest Kings, or so they believed.
"And you are?" the Beast Kin demanded again, bristling with arrogance, his words sharpened by ignorance, assuming he faced a lesser being.
"Me?" Veldra's voice was deceptively calm, almost casual, as though the moment were trivial, unworthy of note.
The Beast Kin King opened his mouth to retort, but Veldra's gaze met his, and the world seemed to pause. Then Veldra spoke, each word heavy with the weight of existence itself:
"I am Veldra. Lord, Ruler, King, Sovereign, Creator, Embodiment, Essence-whatever you wish to call it. But understand this; I am the forest. I am the Lord of Wonders, of Miracles, and the Uncertainty of Wanderers. I am the King of Fortune, the Mist that unveils all. I am the Governor of Travelers without Destination. I am the Father of all Nameless, all Unknown Potential. I am the Weak who rules the Strong, the Fool who governs the Wise. I am the Great Equalizer, the Definer of all meanings, of Truth and Lies, Illusions and Dreams. I am Chaos wrought from Retribution. I am the Defier of Fate and Law, for no narrative can bind me, no author rewrite me, no plot overshadow me. I am… the Ruler of the Forest of the Unknown."
He paused, letting the weight of his proclamation settle into the bones of the forest itself, the hall itself, the minds of those who dared to stand before him.
"I think…"
Veldra walked forward, Lucien following closely behind, their presence alone bending the space around them. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a table materialized before them, small in width but elongated in length, crafted with impossible precision. Two chairs occupied the ends: one radiant white, a symbol of clarity and loyalty, the other a void of formless darkness, absorbing light itself. Six ordinary chairs filled the remaining spaces, their normalcy now dwarfed by the aura of power surrounding the two ends.
"Lucien," Veldra commanded, his voice calm but absolute, "sit on the white chair."
Without hesitation, Lucien slid the chair back, his movements deliberate and graceful. He seated himself, white hair spilling over the armrest like liquid moonlight. He leaned back, an almost casual ease, his gaze sweeping over the lesser beings gathered before him.
Amon rose from his throne, descending the staircase with measured steps, each footfall pressing into the grey carpet that still bore the echoes of bloodshed. He moved with a king's confidence, unbothered by the lifeless traces beneath him. The ornate chair at the side of the table was claimed, his cane resting against it with a casual authority.
The remaining Kings, and the assembled elves, shuffled forward. Their pride and arrogance warred with the shock in their hearts, the envy and hatred stirring quietly beneath the surface. Yet, compelled by the gravity of this assembly, they took their places, knowing resistance was folly. Here, at this table, all had become subjects in a game far beyond their comprehension.
It was a game of hounds and their Masters, where the pawns believe they chase, yet it is the Masters who orchestrate the hunt.
Veldra moved to his own seat, the chair of blackness that seemed to devour light itself. He settled into it, his posture impeccable, an emperor of absence and control. His purple eyes, once vibrant, dimmed into an unreadable void, shifting into the formless hue of nothingness. His black hair fell neatly around his shoulders, his long robe pooling upon the floor, a shadow within shadows.
"Now," Veldra's voice rang through the hall, low and resonant, carrying the weight of command, "let us begin our first meeting."
He leaned back slightly, observing all those gathered as if measuring their worth. "First, introduce yourselves."
The Beast King was first, his voice trembling slightly beneath the weight of Veldra's gaze. "I am Resues. I am the King of Beasts, Ruler of War, and Guidance."
The Druid King followed, his tone solemn, reverent in the presence of something beyond comprehension. "I am Arroz, Ruler of Dread and Nature."
One by one, the other beings introduced themselves, voices filled with a mixture of pride and hesitation. Veldra listened without apparent interest, his eyes gliding over them like a predator assessing its prey; attention given, but curiosity absent.
"Are there any questions before I begin the meeting?" Veldra asked, the finality of his words leaving no room for challenge. His gaze swept the room once more, a storm contained in form, an immovable will standing against all pride, all defiance, all illusion of control.
"I do, Ruler of the Forest," the Druid King spoke, his voice carrying a mixture of respect and unease, the weight of truth pressing upon every syllable.
"Oh?" Veldra's tone was calm, almost casual, yet there was a faint spark of intrigue buried beneath the surface. "Go on."
The Druid King's gaze flicked briefly to Amon before returning to Veldra. "What happened to the previous King of the Elves? And why does this man claim the throne of the fallen?"
Amon, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke, his voice steady, deliberate, every word polished by the weight of authority. "Lord Veldra did not find favour with him, so he cast him out of existence. In other words, he erased him entirely."
A hush fell over the hall, the remaining Kings exchanging glances, the magnitude of Veldra's power finally settling upon their minds like a cold shadow.
"And as to why I occupy the seat of the fallen," Amon continued, his tone calm yet firm, "Lord Veldra has deemed me best suited for this role."
Veldra allowed the silence to stretch, letting it hang in the air like a living entity, pressing on the minds of all who dared to breathe in the room. Then, his voice broke the stillness, low, deliberate, and absolute: "Are there any more questions?"
Every head shook, eyes lowering in submission. Not one dared to speak further.
"Good. Let us begin," Veldra declared, his tone sharp but measured, as though slicing through the air itself. Then, his eyes flicked to the expanse beyond the palace windows, the forests sprawling endlessly, the whispers of nature brushing against his senses. "But before that, I have a question. Is it merely this forest, or is there more beyond?"
"Yes, my Lord," Lucien replied, his voice steady, precise, carrying the certainty of knowledge. "There are many villages, countless cities, towering fortresses, and realms of diverse will. It is your discretion which you wish to visit, or which paths you wish to tread."
Veldra let a faint, almost imperceptible smile curl at the edge of his lips. "Perhaps tomorrow," he murmured, voice low, as though speaking to himself as much as to them. "If fortune favors me, I may stroll through the lands… perhaps accompanied by you, Lucien."