The room dimmed as Arwen lifted her hand. Threads of magic coiled from her fingers, weaving into the air like glimmering strands of moonlight. Devon blinked as the walls around them shifted, light rippling, forming shapes, shadows, faint moving images.
"This," Arwen said softly, "is an ancient tale. One that should have been forgotten. One that the world has tried very hard to erase."
Devon's breath hitched. The air grew heavy, dense with old power. Aelthir stepped back, bowing his head in reverence. Even he dared not interrupt.
Arwen's voice deepened, each word carrying the weight of centuries.
"Long before wolves claimed forests, before vampires mastered the night, before elves carved their sanctuaries from living wood… There were the Magi."
Devon watched as the glowing magic shaped into two figures, one tall, robed in shifting darkness; the other slender, cloaked in flowing light.
