Introduction
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Over a century ago, after the Golden Clash, the Elyseum that once consists of one landmass, broke into pieces; creating new other continents.
Several cities had risen, different traditions were divided, and from there, the dawn of an end has been declared. ━─━────༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻────━─━
Prologue
A large number of elves were simultaneously looking at one direction. Their infamous pointy ears are moving, revealing how disturbed they were with the woman walking quietly while her head was tilted down. The warmth of the daylight causes her complexion to change; from porcelain white to pinkish.
'It's the famous Avariel in Skybrim.' They said in their thoughts.
While wandering with her bare feet, the white, soft fabric in the woman's clothe is swaying, and is in unison with the movement of her body. She tilted her heart-shaped face when she noticed the small store in the corner, she's been looking for it.
She sauntered towards the store, unbothered by the Avariels who's chattering about her identity.
"One cup of Hawthorn leaves." Her stares then moved to the lady selling different kinds of leaves and flowers, good for any illnesses, if chosen correctly.
"S-Sure.." The lady couldn't make an eye contact with the woman. She's afraid, everyone's afraid.
A minute later and the trembling hands of the lady handed the woman a paper bag. The woman immediately gave a piece of gold coin and walked away without saying anything.
"Is t-that her?"
"Yes."
"S-So.. she's the so-called..."
The woman unconsciously placed her stare at the two other busybodies who's obviously talking about her. The two gasped and tried to avoid her dead stare.
The corner of her mouth turned down, why can't she have just one quiet day?
The babblings irritated her soft, pointy ears, the reason why she shook her head and blocked all of her thoughts.
She looked up — her eyes glistened because of the calming sky — openeth her twelve-feet white wings and rose high in the air.
The Avariels followed her using their eyes, the two busybodies earlier panted from the intensity of the blows of the wind. One of them continued what she's trailing, "...Progeny of the Au."
