The Monster King's Legacy

As lance walked back, strolling through the streets, he went by the usual bustle of the city. Merchants from various races peddled their wares, children darted between stalls, and the ever-expanding city exuded an air of prosperity and unity.

While he admired his own kingdom, he bumped into a stranger on the street, a hooded fellow who looked to be human and in a hurry. The man quickly apologized, and not wanting to drag too much attention than he already was, Lance pardoned the man and made his way out of there swiftly.

The man Lance bumped into was cloaked from head to toe, the fabric worn and dusty as if he had traveled far for miles upon miles. A large backpack bulged against his back, its weight evident in the way he moved, not to mention how discomforting it must have been due to its size that looked even bigger than his own torso. His head darted from side to side as he slipped through the streets, his hood low enough to cast his face in shadow, though sharp eyes could be glimpsed beneath, constantly scanning his surroundings.

As he passed a group of goblins haggling with a beastkin vendor, his steps faltered. He turned his head slightly toward them, as if trying to blend in but failing miserably, narrowly avoiding contact with some soldiers passing through. The goblins exchanged a brief glance, their sharp instincts catching the stranger's unease.

"First time here, eh?" a goblin warrior standing nearby called out, her tone friendly but probing. It appeared that even the goblins haggling there were also soldiers.

The cloaked man stiffened, shaking his head without a word as he quickened his pace, weaving deeper into the marketplace until he reached an inn tucked in the quieter outskirts of the city.

As they watched him go, the goblins didn't think much of it, returning to their haggling.

At the inn, the innkeeper, a stocky ogre with a surprisingly soft voice, eyed the stranger warily as he approached the counter.

"Need a room?" the ogre asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

The cloaked man nodded, his voice low and rough. "Yes. One night."

He placed a handful of coins on the counter, careful to keep his hands hidden beneath his sleeves. The ogre counted them, his sharp eyes flicking toward the man's hood but saying nothing.

"You'll be on the second floor. Last door on the left," the innkeeper said, sliding a key across the counter.

The cloaked man took the key without a word, slinking up the stairs as if eager to escape the innkeeper's watchful gaze.

'Suspicious indeed.' The innkeeper thought to himself, making a mental note in case anything came up.

Once inside the room, the man locked the door and set his backpack down with a heavy thud. He paced the small space for a moment, muttering under his breath. His movements were erratic, as if he were arguing with himself, his voice barely audible.

Finally, he knelt beside the backpack, pulling it open with trembling hands. Inside, nestled among soft, carefully arranged cloth and a few large leaves, were two eggs.

The first egg was stark white with black spots, its surface smooth and almost luminescent under the dim light, while the second was black, its shell adorned with intricate red markings that seemed to shimmer when the man tilted it slightly.

He gently ran a gloved hand over the eggs, his posture shifting from tense to protective. "I've brought you this far," he murmured. "No one will take you from me. Not here."

The man leaned closer to the eggs, his voice lowering further. "I'll figure out what to do soon. Just… stay safe."

As the man sat back, his hood slipped slightly, revealing the edge of a sharp jawline and pale, almost translucent skin. His eyes darted toward the window, where the faint hum of the bustling capital filtered in.

He pulled his hood tighter, muttering curses under his breath. "This place… too many people. Too many eyes. These damn beasts… too sharp, I can't stay here for long."

The stranger's unease was palpable. He seemed out of place, an anomaly even in a city known for its diversity and acceptance. Whatever he carried, it was clear that the eggs were no ordinary cargo, and that his presence in the goblin kingdom was no mere coincidence.

Outside, the capital thrived in its usual rhythm, blissfully unaware of the mystery that had just walked through its gates.

…

Following the flash of light from Melina's magic, the air that greeted Sylwen on the other side of the teleportation was cool, fragrant with the scent of ancient trees and blooming wildflowers. It had been years since she last stood in this place, the elven capital, and yet the moment she saw the towering almost crystalline trees and rich essence of life, a wave of memories surged through her. She was finally home.

They continued into the capital city, passing through the barrier that only allowed those authorized to pass through, which played a part as to why they didn't just teleport inside.

Melina's escorts stepped forward immediately and led Sylwen away to rest. Once she was in, Sylwen was quick to notice the change in the place.

It felt colder, quieter. The streets were pristine, but emptier than usual, than how she remembered them, and the elves she passed as Melina's escorts led her through the inner courtyard looked at her with mild surprise but didn't bother more. Everyone appeared more serious than she remembered, and there was a kind of oppressive force hanging over everyone, though, they appeared to be quite focused with whatever they were doing.

She glanced upward at the high towers of the palace, remembering the warm laughter of her parents, council members once respected across the kingdom. More than anything, she longed to see them.

Melina's escorts guided her to a guest chamber within the main palace and left her to rest for the time being. She sat by the window, staring into the canopy of ancient trees, embracing the feeling of finally being home.

She was in no rush to find her parents, after all, they were quite busy and had little time. If they were around in the capital, then, they would waste little time to come and see her, otherwise, it may take a bit longer if they were outside the capital.

…

Elsewhere in the palace, Melina walked briskly into the chamber where Ithil was. There, Ithil sat upon his seat, golden eyes half-lidded in apparent contemplation. As soon as she was close enough, Melina knelt before Ithil.

"You've returned," Ithil said without raising his voice.

"I have, my Lord. I bring word from the monster king," Melina replied and gave a brief bow of her head.

Ithil's gaze sharpened slightly. "Speak."

She went on to explain all that Lance had said about how he rescued Sylwen, and the message that was left to him by the mysterious group. "They claimed she was special, and that she should be protected."

After listening to her, a long silence followed.

Then, slowly, Ithil rose from his seat. The marbled floor beneath his feet shimmered with his movement as he walked towards a window.

"Special… of course," he murmured, as if those words unlocked an old, buried truth.

His face remained calm, utterly unshaken, as he turned toward the window, overlooking the radiant city of the elves.

"Sylwen must be eliminated before nightfall. Quietly. No pain." he said coldly.

Melina showed no reaction. "Understood."

"Return to me when it is done." He said.

Without another word, Melina turned and vanished into the shadows as though she was never there.

Alone, Ithil breathed slowly, staring into the horizon.

"Born of high elves, yet she carries the tainted blood of darkness," he thought.

"A contradiction that should not exist. A dark elf… in this age."

It had been buried for years, this truth. Only a few knew.

Her parents were both council elders. They had protected her because she was their daughter, and despite knowing, the former king allowed it… But the truth? The truth was dangerous.

Dark elves were no myth. They were cursed beings, tainted with pure corruption. Their blood resonated with forbidden magic, and their very presence called to the darker cults and ancient forces lurking across the world. Thou demons would be seen as the closest to corruption and negative energy, that was only prejudice formed through several similar occasions. The ones who bore the true essence of corruption and darkness were few, and the dark elves were amongst them.

"If the organization that warned the monster king has noticed her," he reasoned, "then others will as well, and I will not let this kingdom fall for a girl whose blood calls out to the abyss. By then, not only this kingdom, the entire world would be at risk."

While Ithil returned to his business, Melina walked through the palace halls. She did not question Ithil's judgment, she never had. She was his blade, and blades were not meant to question. When she opened the door to Sylwen's room, and saw her staring out at the forests and structures below.

Sylwen turned. "Lady Melina… is something wrong?"

Lowering her head slightly, Melina answered in an even tone. "No. Just rest. You've come a long way."

…

Later that night, Melina returned to Ithil, stepping through the doors and into his chambers in silence, her expression, as always, unreadable.

"It is done," she said simply, holding Sylwen's limp body in her arms.

Ithil regarded her coldly, and with a nod, gestured toward the garden embedded in the area opposite the chair he sat on. Melina gently placed the body down and stepped away.

Then, thick, bark-like roots extended outward, twisting and wrapping around the girl's lifeless body gently, like a mother cradling a child, then pulled her into the earth. Sylwen's hair spilled over the ground for a moment, and her face remained peaceful, as if in slumber.

The ground closed behind them, leaving not a trace… Just silence.

Ithil turned away, eyes hardening.

"The world does not need more darkness."

Without another word, he gestured for Melina to leave.