The Final Act

      The alarm rang out throughout the marble and gold halls as its equally golden inhabitants rushed to arms past a young woman, who strode grimly in the opposite direction, deeper into the structure. Although her skin matched theirs, her eyes, her ears, all golden like every other high elf, the others passed judgmental looks upon her as they passed, for her hair burned red and fell down in curls, unlike their straight golden locks. Despite their distrust of this woman, the situation was dire, and they had no time to stop, so onward she marched, a gently humming cube in her hand, made of marble and covered in intricate golden sealings and cogs. This is it, she thought to herself, this is the final act of this part. The high elves had long relished their empire, won of dominance and slavery, but finally heroes had rose up against them, and this place, Unathil, was the last structure in all of Agora where high elves still existed. Her people were soon to be wiped out, but she had no love for these monsters; they would have killed her the moment she was born were it not for her father’s influence, she wept for another reason. Before too long the halls she delved into became empty, the magical alarm fading into the distance with them before she took a left turn into an opulent alchemy laboratory. Passing by the many instruments and tools, she made her way to an empty wall. Upon holding the box up to it, the device within chittered, and the wall began to move upwards, revealing a secret tunnel that bored deeper into the hill. Despite the golden heels she wore, she ventured into the uneven terrain with ease as the door closed behind her. Following the tunnel for a short distance, it opened up into a large cavern, somewhat converted into an additional alchemy lab. The stone floor was smoothed and polished, magelight hung to key points in the walls, tables and other furnishings grown from roots, and an arcane barrier covered the room. In the center of the room, pacing, was the man responsible for this impressive display, a tall dark elf wearing an opulent crimson robe stroking his beard, his brow furrowed in thought. Upon noticing the woman his face noticeably brightened, reddish brown eyes turned upwards into a smile as he embraced her. “Talia! You made it, thank the Gods.” They kissed as they broke their embrace, looking into each other’s eyes, “of course I did Mu’al, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Mu’al gently caressed her cheek as his smile widened, but his eyes frowned, “I know… I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” Talia put her hand over his, “I know my love, I would endure a thousand lifetimes of torment if it would mean we could stay together… but we have our part to play.” Her voice cracked on the final words as tears streamed down Mu’al’s face, barely able to hold tears in herself. They sat in silence for a moment, their heads held together as they fought the tears away, before Mu’al finally spoke. “You have everything ready I assume?” “Yes.” Was all she responded with as Mu’al nodded his head. They ventured together towards a large empty table in the room, and Talia lifted the cube once more, the open face on it glowing a gentle blue. The device beeped once more as a beam of energy erupted from it, producing upon the table a double-bladed black sword, a cornucopia, a small flask and a small series of journals accompanied by an inkwell and quill. Mu’al ran his hands over the length of the sword as Talia spoke, “the cornucopia will replenish with food three times a day, the flask will continuously fill with water, and the inkwell likewise will not run dry. The quill also repairs and cleans itself when not in use, and I hope this is enough journals to stave off madness…” her voice trailed off for a moment, “we truly have no idea how long I will be down here for?” Mu’al looked at her almost pleadingly as he asked. She stood in silence for a moment, staring at her fathers sword that Mu’al was now in charge of, before throwing her arms up exasperatingly, “I really don’t! Could be a year, a decade, could even be centuries.” She held her hands over her mouth as she resumed crying again, and Mu’al held her close, gently caressing her hair and back as he shushed her. “I’m sorry my love, I shouldn’t have asked, I know you and your father have studied the prophecy down to the last detail, you tried your best and that’s all I could possibly have asked for, let’s continue shall we?” She shuddered but nodded her head, wiping tears from her eyes as she rose, gesturing to the sword, “whenever the bearer arrives, you will give them this sword and tell them to find me. I will have to become a new person after this, likely even assume multiple lives, but I shall remain as Talia, and for once I will bear my hair with pride.” She held a strand of her hair out straight so she could look at it, “That is how they will know me, ok?” Mu’al nodded his head as he took his hand away from the sword and guided Talia to a nearby alchemy station, it had a single potion ready, a black mixture swirling of it’s own accord with rainbow flecks swimming in opposing directions. “When the time comes, and it will be soon, you will drink the mixture, and for all intents and purposes, you will die.” Mu’al held her face gently within his hands as he caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, “you will resurrect exactly twenty-four hours later, which should be plenty of time for the angel to pass.” She nodded her head as she looked into his eyes. “Then… then you need to take some time to rest before heading out, and from there…” Talia finished the sentence for him, “from there I seal the box and under my new guise take it to Fora Rasul, the ra-rho will guard it within Gliredam until the time comes.” They held their heads together again as Mu’al stated, “and then, however much later that time will be, be it a thousand years from now, finally will we be able to be reunited.” They simply stood together, hands clasped tightly, until they heard the sounds of cheering from outside. “That would be our cue then…” Mu’al said sullenly, turning his head downwards, “Caelvana won’t be far behind, severing every high elven life from the strands of fate.” He shuddered, “Not all of them Mu’al,” Talia moved away to grab the black and prismatic bottle, smiling weakly up at him. “Of course my love…” his lips quivered as he looked at her for what will be the final time for many, many years to come. They slowly came to embrace each other once more, kissing passionately, savoring each other for as long as they possibly could, their hearts fluttering for their final kiss, made with all the passion of a youthful couple who had only just discovered the wonders of love. Finally they heard more commotion from outside, sudden cries of terror, screams cut unnervingly short as the angel deleted these beings from existence, not the slightest trace of even a corpse to be found. Thus they parted lips, and Talia gave Mu’al one final smile as she caressed his face, “Don’t be afraid my love,” she said before consuming the liquid. She barely had enough time to finish the bottle before she dropped it and immediately began to choke and convulse. Mu’al held her in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he gently lay her down, only a few seconds passed before all movement ceased, and he witnessed the light leave her eyes. Just then, Mu’al felt a presence, and looked up to witness Caelvana floating above them. He had hardly noticed how quiet it had become outside, as the angel had made swift work of those guarding Unathil. She hovered there, silently observing them, clad in black robes over her blue skin, armored patches of red chitin covering what little was exposed of her chest and along her arms, which ended in hands with three elongated fingers. A simple silver thread with a swirling crimson gem in the center sat around her neck, which was also covered in red chitin, which covered much of her head aside from her mouth and two slits for a nose. Instead of eyes, the chitin sprouted and connected above her head, heavenly light emanating from the halo formed. A great pair of skeletal wings wreathed in active shadows unfurled behind her, and she had her hands engulfed in a strange energy, it simultaneously contained scarlet threading intertwining while also being entirely empty. As Mu’al looked up at her, wordlessly weeping as he held his love close, Caelvana lowered her hands to her side, the energy fading as she lowered herself, her uncovered feet touching the ground as she kneeled before him. “I have done my part, ensure you both do yours.” She spoke with a whispering, echoing voice before opening a portal behind her and swiftly retreating to it, returning to Eternity to the grasp of the Seven, to report to her master Tanat, the God of death and fate. As the heavenly glow faded, so too did the faint choir of voices that Mu’al had only just noticed, leaving him in silence as he cradled Talia’s body close.