My life is over.
I'm finished.
The Snow Elf Arcane Archer sat alone in a dark little room in the field hospital, hugging his knees with his head buried between them.
Snow Elves were an exceptionally proud race, and Rellta was outstanding even among them. Otherwise, he and his sister would never have been tasked with investigating changes in the outside world. To the dying Snow Elves, receiving such a mission was considered the greatest honor.
At first, Rellta had been cautious and kept his head down. After all, he knew nothing about the outside world.
But after adventuring for a while, Rellta soon discovered that the development of the present-day Realms posed even less of a threat than the Netheril Empire had. Short-lived races proclaimed themselves kings and rulers everywhere, while most of his disagreeable fellow Elves had withdrawn from the continent.
Although he never said it aloud, Rellta yearned for the abundant life outside. He had no intention of returning. If possible, he even hoped to bring his people out of the frozen wastes.
He had had enough of that harsh environment. Surely his people felt the same.
But now his dream had shattered, and his life was over. Defeated by a lump of coal slag, his head pinned beneath a boot before a thousand onlookers-Rellta's pride had been crushed.
He had considered suicide.
Later, someone had come and told him many things, and he had temporarily set that thought aside.
Now, after night fell, a voice sounded beside his ear. It was so sweet, so beguiling, like a murmur whispered while caressing a newlywed lover, slipping into Rellta's mind.
"Rellta, Rellta. I've been watching you all along, darling."
"Who are you?" Waves of dizziness washed over Rellta. The elder Snow Elf brother found that he could not