Arinthal's eyes fluttered open slowly as his blurry vision cleared. To his surprise, his first sight was a desolate land, barren and soaked in something he believed to be blood. The sky was crimson, as was the moon, and devoid of clouds. He could spot mountains on the horizon in front of him, but they were barren and dark.
He took a step forward, but something hit his foot and made him stumble. His gaze moved to his feet and he saw his white garments soiled red. He realized that it was a severed hand that had made him stumble.
Arinthal cocked an eyebrow and took another look around. This time, the ground was littered with millions of elven corpses. A few dragons lay there too, their flesh rotting.
"What is this?" he asked no one in particular.
"This is the consequence of pride and arrogance," a voice explained.
He turned to see a dark being materializing a few meters from him. It had no particular form but was almost humanoid, and at its center was a white core.
"Who are you?" Arinthal suddenly took an offensive stance and started to channel velori.
"Your magic won't work here, young one," it said in a smooth and calm voice.
"Why, being of darkness?" Arinthal asked, still on the offensive.
"Because this is not reality. It is but a mere vision."
"What do you mean by a vision, whatever you are?"
"It seems you aren't versed in my identity. I am the WayFinder. I am what is to be, and it is my duty to seek the best possible paths for the future."
"Then what is my business with you?" Arinthal cocked an eyebrow.
"I am just as surprised as you are, young one. Your power of clairvoyance has passed the bounds of normal 'visions'. You have the power to call upon a waking dream," the WayFinder explained.
"What do you mean by waking dream?"
"You just drove your soul into a vision, young one. That is what I mean by waking dream."
"So then, what is all this?" he asked, gesturing to the million corpses around on the barren wasteland.
"You should know what this means, Arinthal."
"You can't mean this is the extinction of my people," Arinthal murmured, still uncertain about what all this was.
"It is something bound to happen, Arinthal Calanthir. The annihilation of the entire elven race."
"Why is that, WayFinder?" Arinthal felt his heartbeat rising.
"All I can tell you is that your pride as elves will be your downfall."
With that, the WayFinder disappeared into a cloud of dust. With it went the vision, which slowly faded until Arinthal could no longer keep himself there.
Arinthal found himself on his bed, surrounded by two women constantly channeling their magic around him. As immediately as he could, he broke off their velori using his own, before they realized that he was awake.
"Stop your work. What happened? Where is my father?" he asked the healers.
The older one of the two bowed and replied:
"His Majesty seeks the counsel of his court in the throne room."
Arinthal groaned and jumped down from his bed. He started to walk towards the door, but a deliberate cough stopped him.
"What is it?" he asked, not looking back.
"My prince, you are... um... not clothed," the older woman replied.
"Oh," Arinthal muttered.
He threw a fine woven robe which covered his body on and smoothed out his long hair before donning his crown. Quickly, he exited his chambers and made for the throne room.
When his feet finally took him to the entrance of the throne room, he stopped. He took a glance around his surroundings. From the artificial waterfalls at the ends of the crystal gates to the floral hangings draping the walls, it was grand. With his magic, he pushed the throne room's doors open. Twelve thrones, large and beautiful, lined the sides of the walkway, divided into six on each side. In front of each throne, there was a pool with three silvery fish in each one. King Roran sat on the largest throne at the farthest point of the room.
He was saying something but stopped when Arinthal walked in.
"What is it, son?" he asked.
Arinthal took a look at his father and then said in a loud voice, "Anyone here who isn't the King should leave!"
The Council of Elves looked back and forth at Arinthal and King Roran. The King nodded and dismissed them with a wave of his hand, which they did after muttering some incoherent words. Arinthal looked at his father, and their clear blue eyes met dark green ones.
"I am going to the Tamerlein continent," he announced boldly.
"What for?" King Roran cocked an eyebrow. "I'm going to find Nadindel."
"And why is that, son?"
"I want to find those who killed Naudra and make sure they never see the light of day."
"Are you sure?" King Roran asked, a cunning smile suddenly creeping onto his face.
The King suddenly disappeared from the throne and reappeared behind Arinthal with a sword in hand. The blade moved swiftly, seeking to slice Arinthal into two. Arinthal ducked, avoiding the blade completely.
He somersaulted a few meters away and called forth his sword,
"Moonshade."
It was a delicate yet powerful-looking weapon. It had a hilt encased with black leather and a katana-like blade made out of a blue metal known as Aetherium. Seven distinct runes were etched onto the surface of the blade and seemed to glow slightly as he wielded it.
"I know I was born with the worst kind of magic an elf can gain, but at least I can handle myself in Tamerlein," Arinthal murmured.
"Fine then, prove it, son," King Roran ordered with his grand sword's blade pointed at the young prince.