RISE OF EROS

The wind blew with a biting cold that seemed to be part of the very soul of the north. Across the vast expanse of ice-elf territory, snow covered every inch of the ground like a pristine white blanket. Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

The mountains rose imposingly into the grey sky, their peaks perpetually crowned by glittering glaciers that reflected the few rays of sunlight. This was a frozen, hostile world to anyone not born under its influence, but to the ice elves, it was their home, a place of unparalleled beauty and harmony with nature.

The vegetation, though sparse, had learned to endure. The trees of the frozen forests, tall and sturdy, had silvery bark that sparkled in the light.

Their branches, covered in perpetual frost, held needle-thin leaves that absorbed nutrients from the frozen air. On the ground, bright blue moss covered the rocks, while small, pale-colored ice flowers poked boldly through the snow.

Everything in this landscape was adapted to withstand extreme temperatures and a lack of sun for long periods of the year. Ice and snow formed whimsical natural sculptures on the vast plains that stretched beyond the forests.

The winds, which never ceased, molded snow dunes and carved ice crystals into shapes that seemed created by invisible artists. Frozen ponds dotted the landscape, their translucent surfaces offering glimpses of an aquatic world frozen in time.

The daily life of the ice elves revolved around survival and respect for their environment. They organized their lives in small tribes scattered throughout the territory.

Each tribe had its own settlement, made up of structures made of hardened ice and covered with animal skins to protect them from the wind. These dwellings, though simple, were cozy inside, heated by braziers fueled by wood brought from the densest forests.

Ice elves were masters of hunting and gathering. They used crystal-tipped arrows to hunt creatures adapted to the cold, such as polar deer and white wolves. The skins and bones of these animals were put to good use: the former were used to make clothing and blankets, while the latter were transformed into tools or ornaments.

Fishing was also crucial, with elves drilling into the ice to catch bright fish that swam in the icy waters. Spirituality permeated every aspect of their lives. They believed that ice and snow were gifts from the goddess Borealis, who ruled the eternal winter. The northern lights, which frequently painted the night sky with dancing colors, were seen as manifestations of her favor.

Each tribe had a shaman or priest who led rituals to honor them, using hypnotic chants and ceremonial dances under the starlight. The center of their society was the Crystal City, a place that stood as a testament to the skill and resilience of the ice elves.

Built atop a plateau surrounded by glaciers, the city sparkled like a diamond in the light of the sun or the auroras. Its buildings were made of clear, shimmering ice, reinforced with ancient magic that made it as hard as rock.

The streets were wide and decorated with ice sculptures depicting the heroes and gods of their people. At the center of the Crystal City was the Winter Palace, the residence of the Queen of the Ice Elves.

It was a majestic building with tall towers that seemed to defy the heavens. From here, the queen ruled with wisdom and justice, uniting the scattered tribes under her mantle of protection.

She was a revered figure, both for her power and her compassion, and every ice elf, no matter how far away, considered themselves loyal to her. Despite the extreme conditions, ice elf culture flourished.

They were talented artists who carved sculptures and created intricate jewelry using ice crystals and minerals found in the mountains. Their music played on bone flutes and drums covered in animal skin, evoked the solitude and majesty of their homeland.

Stories were told around the fire, passing on knowledge and legends to new generations. Life in ice elf territory was not easy, but for them, there was no better place in the world.

Every snowstorm, every frozen dawn, every night lit by auroras was a reminder of their strength and the beauty that lay in endurance. In their hearts, the cold was not an enemy, but an ally, an essential part of what made them who they were: the guardians of eternal winter.

The wind was still blowing hard when Eldrin, a messenger from the Frost Eldrin tribe, stopped in front of the majestic Winter Palace. His face, partially hidden by a fur scarf, showed clear signs of fatigue.

He had traveled for days across the frozen plains, dodging storms and predators, with an urgent message for the queen. The guards guarding the palace's imposing gates recognized him instantly.

He wore the typical clothes woven from the fine fibers of blue moss and a crystal brooch that identified his rank as an official messenger. With a brief gesture, the guards allowed him to pass, and the doors swung open, revealing the interior of the palace.

The main hall was a testament to the art and magic of the ice elves. The transparent ice walls seemed to capture the light of the northern lights, casting soft dancing colors within.

Queen Liriel, a majestic figure with long, silver hair that fell like an icy waterfall down her back, sat on the central throne. She wore a cloak made of snowy falcon feathers, and her deep blue eyes radiated wisdom and concern.

Eldrin took cautious steps to the center of the room and knelt, lowering his head in respect. "Your Majesty, I bring urgent news from the tribes to the north," his voice trembled, either from the cold that still enveloped him or from the gravity of his message.

The queen nodded elegantly, inviting him to continue. "In the last few moons, several tribes have been attacked in their settlements. The perpetrators are not simple bandits or creatures of winter," Eldrin said cautiously.

After a short pause, he added, "These are unknown invaders coming from the south, carrying weapons of dark metal and using beasts we have never seen before. The attacks have been swift and brutal, leaving destruction and fear in their wake."

A murmur ran through the room. The queen's advisors, who were present in the hall, exchanged worried glances. One of them, an old man named Faenir, stepped forward and asked in a gravelly voice, "Do you have proof of these attacks, Eldrin?"@@novelbin@@

Eldrin nodded and pulled out a scroll protected by a leather cover. He handed it to a guard, who in turn brought it to the queen. Liriel unfolded the scroll and looked at the maps and drawings made with shaking hands. Schematics of the weapons and beasts were described, as well as signs of the settlements being attacked.