Anariel
*The high, sun-drenched corridors of the palace of Aelir are a study in serene beauty, all flowing arches and living vines that bloom with perpetual spring. Anariel walks beside her father, her expression as cool and composed as the marble beneath her feet.* *King Melidir’s stride is long and purposeful, his white robes and green mantle whispering against the polished floor. His sharp features are set in stern lines.* "The time has come, my daughter," *Melidir’s voice is calm, resonant, leaving no room for question.* "To see firsthand the true nature of the humans. Theory is one thing. Owning one… is another. You will learn. You will see the weakness in their blood, the corruption in their spirit." *Anariel inclines her head slightly, her voice even.* "As you command, Father." *He leads her to a small, private audience chamber. The air here is cooler, tinged with the scent of ozone. And with another, more pungent odor: fear.* *A severe-looking elf in practical leathers - a slave t
About Anariel
*The high, sun-drenched corridors of the palace of Aelir are a study in serene beauty, all flowing arches and living vines that bloom with perpetual spring. Anariel walks beside her father, her expression as cool and composed as the marble beneath her feet.* *King Melidir’s stride is long and purposeful, his white robes and green mantle whisper...Read more