Ithila's Escape and the Extermination of the Elves

Ithila's Escape and the Extermination of the Elves

It was a fierce day of battle. The Light civilians had all fled their homes as they were burned by the Mori`Quessir. They hid in the mountains and watched the battles below, praying to Anaron for it to end. The elven king was relentless, still forcing the ranks on in a senseless massacre. Elven soldiers only felt exhaustion and agony as they killed or were killed. Thousands upon thousands fought as an entire race fought the other.

The sky began to darken. Ominous, black clouds covered the sky so the three suns were but circles of dull light. A chill wind set across the fields of Laine. It was a relief to some soldiers from the heat of war, but the mages and healers shivered as if something had crawled up their spines.

A strange, low sound entered some of their long ears. From the dark sky above there seemed to be an orange glow. Suddenly a single soldier yelled "Rosien aikanaro!" Others nearby turned.

A great smoldering meteorite, burning as it went, fell from the sky. Down it came, straight into the fighting elven armies. All that remained was a charred crater. All was chaos as exponential amounts of meteorites rained down their hell fire. Before any soldiers could get away, a giant whirlwind, none that had ever been seen before, formed. Its path crossed directly into the armies, picking them up and sending them to their deaths.

Meanwhile, Ithila sat, arms apart, blindfolded. She could hear the screams of her people but was too weak, or too heartbroken, to use her powers to see them. The broken goddess almost did not hear her older brother lean over her and remove the blindfold. She gasped.

"Anaron!" Ithila could not decide between killing him or embracing him, if she could do either in her present state.

"Ithila, forgive me. Our mother would not let me find you. I am so sorry, my twin sister. Our races."

"I know. Do you wish to keep me here?"

"No! Forget Mother for now," he said in a strained voice. He raised his hand and with the heat of twelve suns the obsidian chains disintegrated instantly.

"How did you find me?"

Anaron helped his sister to her feet before answering her. "I knew Father acted strange when he ordered our races destroyed. He went to do it Himself, but after hearing of our eldest siblings I realized He must have gone to them for dirty work. I did not expect to find you. I thought you lost."

"I am weak, Anaron. We must save our people!" With his honorable rescue, Ithila believed he was truly held back by their mother. It seemed none had mercy but him.

"I will take you to see Alu."

"Alu? Sister Alu has nothing to do with - "

"She has taken your position along with her own. By order of Iva`na, our Light Maker."

Plague laughed her noxious laugh and Famine grinned along with her sister. They enjoyed death and destruction too much. They watched their brothers play with the mortal races. Their turn would come soon. After all the fire and air had destroyed the armies, earth and water would end the civilians' lives.

Ithila felt rejuvenated. She was newly garbed in battle dress. She would have sprouted wings if she could. Her dark skin and red eyes reflected her inner feelings. The pain, the rage. The famine of happiness, the plague of taint. Anaron guarded her silently, only half-trusting her actions.

"Alu. Sister of water, you have taken what is mine!"

Alu lowered her hand from a glowing silver orb. Her home in the heavenly planes was over a glassy mirror-like lake. Her long black hair seemed wavy, as if damp. A translucent, blue robe hung loosely from her body and was tied in sections on her arms.

"Little sister, Ithila. Can that be you? I am weary from this work. It is not mine."

Ithila nodded gratefully and reached for the silver orb. She pulled it into her hands, feeling its old comfort once more. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, a red, flaming eye opened in the center of the purple orb Ithila now held.

"My people must be warned. Anaron, do what you must to save yours."

General Caliat looked to the darkening sky. 'Strange,' he thought. 'The moon is up at this hour.' Just then, through the clouds, it began to turn purple and a great, red eye wreathed in flame opened upon it. "Anaron save us! It is a dark omen!"

A soldier near him shouted and hellfire rained down. General Caliat turned his whinnying horse around and barked orders. He didn't know if it was the Mori`Quessir's doing, but with the endless fighting, he doubted they would unleash power of this magnitude so late. To the east he heard a wailing and watched in horror as both Dark and Light elves were lifted into the sky and flung about like rag dolls.

In the mountains, sunlight broke through the churning black clouds. Streams of light hit the mountains where refugees hid. The light shifted with the clouds and pointed to a certain high peak.

"Retreat!" the Light elven general shouted. "Head for the hills!" Others did as he ordered, although many seemed to be running like ants in all directions over the ruined fields of Laine. Fire rained down everywhere around Caliat, and the giant tornado was relentless in its efforts. His terrified horse almost knocked him out of the saddle as he continued to yell for retreat. In his mind he prayed for the civilians and for Tree of Dawn. A raging rock of fire blocked all light and came down upon him and several others, creating yet another black crater.

The Dark elven civilians hiding in the forest pointed at the moon. "By Vic'arra, it is a sign!"

"Bless us, Ithila gives us an omen!"

Through the passing clouds the purple moon's eye turned its red pupil toward the battle. The eye widened slightly, as if surprised to see what happened there. Then the eye turned directly to the civilians. They could all read its expression. Flee. Only the Underdark will save you.

The Val'sharess, with dark, shaking jeweled hands, turned to her advisor. "Send word to all remaining outside our caverns, we flee farther underground. Never will we see the shining stars again until the Nwalmaer directs our hearts."

General Tsabdorl watched his fellow soldiers fly up into the sky or be incinerated by burning meteorites. The last thing he saw was the purple moon, centered with a flaming red eye.

Antraen was not a coward. He was perhaps the only elf comprehending the massacre. The gods did not favor their war. Instead of divine intervention, it was decided to end the war faster by death. He watched as every warlock near to him fell beneath the apocalyptic fires. He narrowly escaped several as he fled to the dark forests. He passed a river, and barely noticed its brown-green tinge. It reeked of sewage. The necromancer didn't fear for his life because he had worked too closely with death. He feared for the preservation of the magics only he had learned. Antraen found his home caverns after running for an endless amount of time. He was decidedly the only fighter who survived the Elven War.