The pharaoh had gone to sleep in his chambers after his conversation with Neftraya and receiving the last reports from the vizier, priests, and generals.
He had ordered them to wake him early for the sacrifice, as soon as DiptsurRá defeated Apophis.
His wife lay beside him—the first wife now, after the death of Setarek's mother a year earlier.
The window was open, and through it the mist entered, taking the form of an old elf with a long gray beard and hair, well-built, straight shoulders, serene gaze, and pale skin.
The new presence in the room somehow awakened the pharaoh from his sleep. Noticing quickly, his first reaction was to grab the khopesh from beside the bed and point it at the intruder. He rose slowly.
"My days as a warrior are past, but a leader does not fall without resisting, even if the chances are nil," the pharaoh said to the elf. At fifty years old, Uras maintained an enviable vigor.
"Good that you think so—that is why I am here. You have grown, Uras'Diptsur. The last time we saw each other, you were a boy. I am Jóarnaliel," the elf said, stoic.
The pharaoh slowly lowered the sword, observing the old elf.
"The name is not unfamiliar. Yes, you were one of the elven leaders… still are, I presume. Have you come here to kill me?" the pharaoh asked.
"No. We have not forgotten the ancient pact."
"Really?" Uras sounded sarcastic. The elf sighed.
"Recent events have brought a great problem for us, and the council convened. I am not here to bring conflict, but to rekindle the flame of trust between our peoples."
Uras stared at him; the cold pre-dawn breeze entered the room.
"I am listening."
"You and I are leaders," the elf began.
"And a leader does what is best for his people," the pharaoh concluded.
"Indeed. That is why the great ancient alliance exists. The first elves and the first pharaoh. I did not have the pleasure of meeting them—I had not been born—but I know the history, as do you." The elder stroked his beard. Uras held the sword at his side, running his nail along the blade, watching and listening.
"And history brings with it the first laws that show how to preserve order. And our duty, as leaders, to our world." The elf's green eyes fixed on the pharaoh as he walked to the window.
"And somewhere in our world, here in the heart of your domain, there is an abominable and hideous creature." He turned to his interlocutor. Uras kept his face calm, respecting the elf's words without interrupting, though he wanted to. "And you allowed it to stay. A creature that exterminated many peoples in the distant past."
"Did you want me to let it destroy my entire kingdom?" The pharaoh's gaze was accusatory.
"That sorceress did something wrong, Uras, and deep down, you know it. We elves had—"
"A plan that would be carried out after provinces and provinces of my people were burned to ash. There was a chance to draw the creature—a unique chance—and Neftraya guaranteed she could do it. And I would do it again without hesitation." Uras kept his voice calm without raising it.
"How did you know the dragon would not come straight to the capital?" the elf asked.
Uras's gaze expressed confusion at the elf's question.
"You had dreams of Namar-Kheph being destroyed. The beast would come exactly here…but it would pass first through the elves' domain. Your dreams were merely remnants of a possible future." The old elf stared at him. "But something interfered, something that drew the dragon earlier, making him change course and come here first, preventing the elves' plan from working."
Uras fell silent; he had not thought of it that way. He had been so shaken by the recurring dreams that when Neftraya guaranteed it, he accepted.
Despite the logical explanation, the pharaoh defended himself:
"If you had such a grand plan, why did you not warn us? If you knew it was possible he would come, why did you not come to me and explain?"
"We did not know that among you there was someone allied with the malignant one. A woman who would hinder us." The elf replied calmly. But Uras'Diptsur grew irritated.
"And how do you know she did not do exactly that out of fear of destruction? Like me, she did not know of your secret movements, since since my grandfather's reign you have kept your distance, going against the oaths of the great alliance…" Uras countered, raising his chin. "She did what a priestess does—anything to protect her people."
The elf rubbed his wrinkled forehead.
"Both sides made mistakes—I cannot deny it. We had reasons, but that does not absolve us of our guilt. That is why I came. The council decided not to react with judgment against you, for we understand your side, Pharaoh." The elf approached. Uras remained in place, staring at him.
"But we cannot leave that creature alive, my friend. Sometimes from a bad decision something good can come, so here is the proposal: we will take advantage of your connection with the priestess and the creature. Set aside this idea that your God modified it—a good God would have destroyed it completely, not stained the human form with that being." The elf placed his hand on the pharaoh's shoulder. "Help us kill him. Deceive the dragon. We will plan together and put an end to the creature, as our ancestors did."
Uras stepped away, removing the elf's hand from his shoulder. Jóarnaliel showed no disturbance; he awaited the pharaoh's response, knowing he saw logic in it.
"Why do you want our help? You are so powerful—why do you not turn into mist and kill him?" Uras asked. His mind was in doubt; the elf's words about his God acting that way—when Uras was fully certain DiptsurRá had intervened—left him confused.
"The Lake of Transposition gives us great abilities, but leaves us far weaker than normal. And you witnessed his fight with Thswoner—you saw how Kharvathar evolved rapidly." The elf explained, stoic. "We would need many of us to come through the lake's power, and the stronger the elf, the more it demands of the magic, making it unstable." The elf concluded.
Uras understood, nodding.
"You say my gods did not intervene in the creature's change, but you cannot say exactly how a being of chaos gained human form?" Uras asked curiously. The elf did not answer, for he had no answer.
"Do you fear my gods are against your creator?" Uras questioned again, with a subtle smile.
"That was in a distant past, and it was not as you imagine," Jóarnaliel narrowed his eyes and declared:
"Think, Uras. The ancient law is a divine pact. What happened with Kharvathar was certainly due to his creator—the great enemy. A remnant of his malignant power." Despite wanting to convince the pharaoh, the elf did not speak loudly, knowing the woman slept in the bed nearby.
Uras hated that the doubt had returned; he had been certain his God had inspired him to show human superiority over the elves, to show that their seclusion was arrogance.
"Can we be sure he is on our side, Pharaoh?" the elf asked one last time. Uras closed his eyes.
'Am I… wrong, as is Neftraya?' the pharaoh thought, looking into the elf's eyes.
"Very well. I will think on the matter," Uras'Diptsur answered.
"We have no time, Uras," the elf clenched his fist. "The more time passes, the stronger the creature becomes. We must end it as quickly as possible."
"When the sun rises, I will make a sacrifice and speak with my gods. Either way, beyond that, you will take time to reach here, will you not? Tomorrow I will have your answer." Uras fixed his gaze on the elder.
The elf stared for a few seconds, then nodded.
"Very well—tomorrow." The old one agreed, without further questions. "And when you see that I am right, we will discuss how to end the creature. Until then, take care, Pharaoh."
The elder nodded, and his body crumbled into sand and vanished through the window. The pharaoh placed his hand on the stone and gazed at the city—his people were there, his home. He could not fail them.