Kryrial could not help the soaring feeling in his chest as he ran his fingers over the Luxian. It was cool, smooth, and for an innate substance, it was beautiful. With this Reclaimer under his control, nothing would be boring. None would look upon him without fear or awe in their hearts.

He would have the power of the gods. A power that none could dispute.

The Reclaimer lay dormant under this mountain. The oppressive stone above him was light as a feather upon him today. He had been close, in the chasms. But seeing it now, even in its dormant state, was a beautiful and inspiring sight in this darkness, where it lay forgotten and mourned.

He already had his troops moving. Preparing to die for his cause. They did not yet know the trap they were in, and he almost felt sorry for them. Ants that they were. His distractions were working out perfectly. The whole of Luminya was on edge, wondering just where his troops were going. The dwarves were silent and unobtrusive, as they always were. And he was fine with that. He did not need their attention.

The known methods for reawakening a Reclaimer were archaic and barbaric. But he would revolutionize the process. A distraction, and a tool, in the same move.

He would not deny that he was a fan of efficiency. It was a necessary thing, after so many years of ruling. He closed his eyes, to soak in the feeling of his success, and the sense of the heavy mountain over top him vanished in earnest.

After only a few more moments of bathing himself in the pride he felt, he spoke aloud the words to a teleportation spell, and his last thought as he vanished from the Reclaimer's resting place, was what a sight it would be when he introduced it to the world.

Once he was back in the castle, Kryrial made for his quarters without delay. He knew his wife would be there, and he had a task for her.

He found her in his bedroom, sitting with her feet up upon a table, a glass of wine in her hand. As entered the room, she stood, eyes downcast, shoulders bowed.

"Ilysa, my dear."

"Kryrial," she curtsied, still averting her gaze.

He moved and sat where she had just been, patting the cushion next to him. "I found it, Ilysa."

"You did?" her voice matched her appearance.

It was one of a young, innocent elf. Sometimes he wondered if she had chosen this form on purpose, just to beguile those she met.

"I did. Its awakening will be magnificent."

She bowed, dropping to her knees and reaching for Kryrial's boots.

He sighed. "Ilysa! Enough!"

With a shove, she was pushed away from his boots and across the ornate rug, as his voice grew louder.

At first, she shuddered on the ground, like a dog scorned for begging for a scrap. Then, when her chin raised, he saw the other being in her eyes. Good, he thought. I don't have any time to waste with you, today. There was a tinge of anger there, as he remembered the dragon who had once been so much more than this split husk. As he remembered the wife who could have bathed a world in fire with him, without a hint of this sad, broken child.

Illysa, The Grove Keeper, had once been formidable. Powerful. Scornful, and like-minded with him. But that had been decades ago. Living and scraping as she did among the mortals had broken her, and here he was, left with the pieces. The stories of her killing villages for the sake of one trampled vine had not been overacted.

Her green eyes blazed as she hissed at him, her eyes beckoning challenge as if she could bite him in two.

"Good to see you, Ilysa." he glanced around the room, noting the open wardrobe, the small fire in the hearth, and the lack of servants present.

"You always push too far." Her teeth pulled back in a snarl as she stood, no longer holding the countenance of a servant, but one of feral pride.

"I push just enough." Kryrial smiled at her and was pleased as her aggression did not fade. "I need a favor from you, before you go home."

"I'm going tomorrow." Ilysa spoke as if there was no room to change her plans.

"You'll go to Uhm'bantha, tomorrow."

"Why would I?"

"Because I asked." That fire that lit in his eyes was enough to mute some of hers, and she sat across from him, retrieving her glass of wine.

"And what is it I will do?" Ilysa still looked as if she might strike.

"You will break their barriers. Remind them they are not as... untouchable as they want to appear."

"I will break the barrier and raze the city." Her words were not spoke like a question, and they pulled a smile to her lips.

"No. That is idiocy." Kryrial gestured, nearly knocking over a candle where it burned on a side table.

"They always challenge Falandor. Act like we are lesser even though it is they who broke the silver pact they—"

"You will break the barrier, and nothing more!" His tone was not a true yell, but he let it rumble just enough to it serve his purpose.

Ilysa's gaze narrowed, and she shot forward in her seat as his tone raised, as if ready to slash his throat.

He raised an eyebrow and waited, excitement tingling down his spine. It would not be the first time she had attacked him, and he felt without a doubt that there would not be a last time. She could be the death of him, in the ages to come, if she tried.

How he enjoyed the games they played.

She let out an inaudible sigh, deep in her throat, before she leaned back against the sofa. "How would the lack of a barrier serve you? Will you assault the city?"

"In time, it is likely. But... the lack of a barrier will scare them. I doubt there is an elf there who remembers the magic used to create it, and I like to think of them scrambling to rebuild what their ancestors once attempted."

"You only want to scare them." she scoffed. "A waste that often ruins the taste of food."

"I need not eat them. It will keep them distracted. Their army is one that would have an excellent chance of defending against us. If they are unsettled, then I gain an advantage."

"Their army is smaller." Ilysa raised an eyebrow. "You just want to see them scared."

"It may be small, but it does not lack for ability." Kryrial smiled.

Ilysa downed the rest of her wine, and paced throughout the room, her fingers trailing on the silks of her gown. "Fine. I will visit Uhm'bantha for you. But you best make it up to me, later."

"Always, my dear." Kryrial took a deep breath. "How long will you remain in Falandor?"

"Until you call me back. While I doubt my people will have any care to aid in the coming war... Someone must keep them from foolishness."

Kryrial chuckled. "I never thought to hear you speak of war and foolishness in the same sentence."

"I do so only because you command me," Ilysa reminded, her anger returning to her eyes.

"Do not worry, grove keeper. I will save plenty of the fun to share with you."

"And what fun is that supposed to be? Your beloved Reclaimer would take all of that away."

"Untrue. It will only heighten the thrill of the hunt, and with it, we have to fear retaliation from no one." As he spoke, he could imagine what would come to the world, once his Reclaimer crawled from its stone prison. Its weapons could cleave the world in two, erase people with but a gesture. And he would be beside it, taking advantage in every swoop, pride and excitement in every death. He could imagine the glee that would fill him with every scream of the people.

Ilysa tried to reason that the Reclaimer's weapons made a fight too easy to be any fun, or any challenge, but he could realize that using the Reclaimer would bring him such power that with one command he could lay the world at his feet, do whatever he liked, and never have to worry of revenge, or a plight against him. It would be the height of power, of existence.

He would be unstoppable.

Kul Galysa closed her eyes, alone in the marble walls of the meditation chamber of the Hall of the Elements. There had been whispers in the Hall for days, about strange movements and deep plots, on their old world, below. The giants loved their whispers and their theories, and she knew she must see for herself. She began her chant of world sight and smiled as the white-blue lines upon her arms blazed. The Mark of the Storm Barer was a comfort.

She closed her eyes, and sank away from herself, her vision spiraling down into a world that would one day be her kins home, again.

Uhm'bantha's towers gleamed silver and metallic in the sunlight. The city was a gem for every culture, and something boasted by the elves for centuries.

But today there was screaming in the streets.

The wing beats of the dragon only added to the chaos and the terror, as the people searched the skies for the magical barrier that had kept them safe for so many years, as a dragon floated outside of it.

Soldiers marched quietly in the streets, not held back by the weight of armor, as they rallied for what they surely believed to be their death. Their leather uniforms were black and forest green, their long, elegant yet serrated swords were ready, within easy reach on their backs. But the War dancers of Uhm'bantha could do nothing against a sky-borne opponent. The archers readied bows with half steady hands, their faces equal parts curious and horrified.

Kul Galysa knew what they wondered, and she was sure of the answer.

The green dragon hovered above the towers, over a shimmering piece of magic, old enough that even Kul Galysa could not name its age without a long moment of thought, and she was captivated at the moment.

The dragon's claws sank into the barrier and thrashed, causing a maelstrom of sound and magic to erupt in a haze above the city.

The sound was worse than the screeching of a rusty blade, of obsidian on glass. It sank through her skin like a thousand needles and stuck there, leaving Kul Galysa to shiver, despite herself.

The silver of the towers seemed to dim and lose its gleam, as the barrier faded as a wave across the city, along with a hush she could feel in her bones.

The barrier had never been broken.

It was not supposed to be possible.

Uhm'bantha would fall today. The citadel had dimmed.

A cloud of sticky green floated over the top of the buildings, and as it fell, the air ignited, washing a wave of flame over everything. People were shoved from their feet, soldiers were buffeted, and many knew their end was coming as they lay coughing in the streets.

There was a mighty roar, and Kul Galysa felt her heart skip one beat, her chest feeling as though it was a ship without a sail.

But then the smoke cleared above the city and in her vision, and the dragon—the enormous green creature of chaos and destruction—was gone.

No one saw it in the skies, nor the city, nor among the Citadel towers.

Silence filled the streets, deeper than it had ever been, one borne of cold shock.

Soldiers, daughters, and builders stood wide eyed and shocked in the streets of their home. Their faces seemed to ask if the gods had spared them, but Kul Galysa knew it was surely not.

Without the barrier, Uhm'bantha was not the bastion everyone believed it to be. It was now a weakness, home to thousands, laid bare before an enemy and left to be seen to all.

But that mattered little, in the true meaning of things. The Silver Citadel had dimmed, as the giants prophecies had foretold. The time for the giants to return to their home was near.

This was not the first sign, but nor was it the last.

She would reclaim claim her home in due time.