Deep within Elderglade's suspended districts.
Master Thaelar's workshop swayed between the massive trunks that formed the city's foundation. Like most craftsmen who worked with living wood, he preferred the lower levels, closer to the earth, where the trees' songs were strongest.
"Another ceremony," he muttered, etching a spiral into a piece of Silverwood.
"Another pair of puppets for the Elders' collection."
His apprentice, Lirael, glanced up from her own work. Concern flickered across her young face.
The first explosion shook their workshop.
Violent.
Unexpected.
Tools clattered to the floor. Through the window, Thaelar could see the grand arena. It was a natural amphitheater formed by a circle of giant trees. Their branches wove together to create seats that spiraled up into the canopy.
"Master?" Lirael's voice trembled.
"Get your emergency pack," he said, setting down his tools. "The day we prepared for has come."
Years spent in the shadows, crafting tools they would never wield.
A craftsman's curse. Yet here we are. Our work finally put to use.
Above them, the city of Elderglade rose like a dream. Branches as thick as castle walls twisted and spiraled. They created natural platforms that held entire districts. Homes and gardens nestled in living layers, connected by bridges of woven vines. At the very top, the castle perched like a crown, barely visible through the leaves.
The merchant's district occupied the middle layers.
When the second explosion hit, a fruit seller's cart overturned. Golden apples spilled down through the gaps between the wooden walkways. They fell past level after level before vanishing into the misty depths below.
Chaos erupted.
"To the shelters!" someone shouted.
But before the crowd could move, the air grew tense.
They appeared first on the arena. Dozens of warriors in gleaming armor materialized among the ancient roots. Their sudden arrival triggered the city's defensive wards.
Loyal soldiers rushed from hidden posts.
Ready.
Alert.
But these were not simple invaders. The warriors of the Lumina clan moved like water flowing through a familiar stream.
They knew this place.
Each warrior knew which roots hid emergency weapons and which paths led to the upper levels. They had grown up here, trained here. Even in exile, they had never forgotten.
"Halt!" A squadron of loyalist guards emerged from behind a massive trunk, their weapons drawn. "In the name of the Elders..."
Their words died.
They recognized the faces of their opponents.
Brothers.
Sisters.
Former comrades.
All had returned, a clear purpose shining in their eyes.
The clash was short but fierce. The loyal guards fought with duty. But the Lumina warriors fought with the strength of ages. They moved with care. They cut weapons from hands and swept legs from under their foes. Swords hovered at their enemies' throats. Their strikes were careful but strong. They fought for freedom, not to kill.
Higher up, in the quiet archives, ancient words whispered long-forgotten secrets. Master Archivist Vaelindel's aged hands traced the texts she had spent a lifetime piecing together. It was the true history of their people, hidden by the Elders.
"So they finally found someone strong enough," she murmured, a small smile on her wrinkled face.
Younger archivists rushed to seal the doors, but she knew better.
Some doors were meant to be broken.
Through it all, the battle between Leo and the Shadow Elder sent tremors through Elderglade's foundation. The massive trees swayed. The connected platforms creaked and groaned. Elves on every level grabbed for support as their world shook.
In a hidden grove, a group of young elves huddled around their teacher. Training in ancient magic was forbidden. But their instructor, her face bearing the marks of exile, had taught them anyway.
"Remember what I told you," she said, her voice steady as another explosion rocked the forest. "The Elders' power is built on lies. Today, those lies begin to crumble."
At the base of Elderglade, more Lumina warriors appeared. They moved as one, each step planned. Long-planned strategies were finally in motion. They secured the ground level to ensure no loyalist forces could attack them from below. Among them moved figures of authority.
Then, stepping from the last shadows of the trees, Queen Seraphina emerged.
Her crimson eyes took in the arena where she had once trained. Her gaze traveled up the immense trunks, past the layers of branches and platforms, to the castle barely visible above.
My home.
Now a battleground.
Her jaw was tight as she paced her exhale, controlling her emotions. Yet for the children, for those they had come to protect, she would not fail.
"Secure the lower levels," she commanded. "Ranar, begin your team's ascent through the western spiral."
"Miraa's take the eastern routes.""
Her warriors moved with perfect timing.
"The first phase is complete," her trusted commander reported, his voice low. "The elflings have been secured and moved to the sanctuary."
A faint smile played on Seraphina's lips as she nodded, a flicker of fulfillment in her eyes. The Lumina clan had struck first at the heart of the Elders' power by freeing the next generation. Now, with the young elves safe, they could dismantle the rest.
"Then we proceed as planned." Her eyes hardened as she looked toward the higher levels, where the ceremony would be.
She drew her blade. Its edge caught the faint light filtering down to the forest floor.
"The children are safe," she said.
"Now we end this."
"Today, we reclaim their future."
The liberation had begun. A powerful force climbed from the deepest roots of Elderglade to its highest branches. The past and the future collided in a battle for their world.