The Original Realm

The Sacred Hall bustled with subdued energy as the group prepared to leave for the Elf Relic of Nature. Sylveria, Luke, Eleanor, and the elders debated their approach in low, urgent voices. Though the room felt alive with movement, a heavy tension loomed, reminding them of the stakes.

Aldric paced the length of the hall, his tufted form visibly agitated. "I still don't like this plan," he muttered, his voice a grumble of frustration. "You're asking me to hide like some common thief."

Elder Fenryl adjusted his glasses and fixed Aldric with a thoughtful look. "It's not about diminishing your value, Aldric. Your essence is powerful, but it's also distinct. If the Hand of Fate has spies or allies observing the city—and we must assume they do—your presence would be like lighting a beacon. They'd know we're onto them."

"Beacon or not, they'll know something's happening when an entire group of elders marches through the forest to the relic," Aldric shot back.

Elder Thalrien leaned forward, his hawk-like gaze sharp as ever. "Which is why we'll separate. Sylveria, Eleanor, and Luke will travel visibly. The rest of us will take alternate routes. We'll converge near the relic, ensuring no one suspects our true numbers until it's too late for them to react."

Luke frowned. "But how would splitting the group make Aldric less noticeable? He's still really famous, and people would recognize him."

Aldric couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude at Luke's unintended compliment.

Elder Narvian, let out a chuckle. "True, Aldric's not exactly subtle. You think someone's going to miss a talking, essence-sensing furball hopping around the city?"

Aldric's whiskers twitched indignantly. "I resent that."

Narvian grinned. "And yet, you don't deny it."

Elder Caerith, ever the pragmatic warrior, folded her arms across her chest. "The question is how to keep him hidden without slowing us down or drawing attention."

Sylveria stepped forward. "Luke, do you have a satchel or pack that could carry Aldric?"

Luke's eyes widened. "A satchel? I mean, no, I don't usually carry one. Should I get one?"

Elder Velthar, who had been quiet until now, raised a hand, and a shimmering satchel materialized in his grasp. The bag glowed faintly with enchantments, its surface embroidered with delicate elven runes. "This should suffice. It's a containment satchel—designed to muffle magical signatures. It'll keep Aldric's essence from being detected as long as he stays inside."

Aldric's ears flattened against his head. "Oh, wonderful. Now I'm luggage."

Luke reached out hesitantly and took the satchel. Its craftsmanship was impeccable, the leather soft yet sturdy. "Uh, are you sure this will work? He's small, but not this small to fit in this."

Velthar gave a faint smile. "The satchel is larger on the inside than it appears. It will be uncomfortable, but not unbearable."

Aldric huffed. "Fine. Let's just get this over with." He hopped into the satchel with a resigned grunt, muttering something about indignities. Once inside, the bag's faint glow dimmed, and the room seemed to breathe easier, as though Aldric's presence had truly been masked.

Luke slung the satchel over his shoulder, feeling its surprisingly light weight. "How are you holding up in there?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"Like a king trapped in a broom closet," came Aldric's muffled reply. "Don't jostle me, or I'll bite your side."

Eleanor smirked. "Looks like you've got a travel buddy, Luke."

Luke rolled his eyes but couldn't help grinning. "This is going to be a long trip."

---

The group split as planned. Sylveria, Luke, and Eleanor moved openly through the city, blending in with the crowds. Sylveria's many clones made her presence a common sight, which worked to their advantage. No one batted an eye at the regal figure accompanying two seemingly ordinary travelers.

As they left the city and entered the forest, the noise of urban life faded behind them. The canopy above grew thicker, filtering sunlight into dappled patterns on the forest floor. The air became cooler, tinged with the scent of moss and damp earth.

Luke shifted the satchel on his shoulder. "Aldric, you still alive in there?"

"Barely," came the grumpy reply. "If I had known this would be my day, I'd have stayed in bed."

Luke chuckled. "Well, at least you're safe. Probably safer than us, honestly."

After a moment of quiet, Luke's curiosity got the better of him. "Hey, Aldric, can I ask you something?"

"As long as it doesn't involve me being in this bag longer than necessary," Aldric replied.

"The elders said Eleanor and I are here to counteract weird essences," Luke began. "But is it possible to predict what someone's essence might be?"

Aldric's voice was contemplative. "Technically, yes. But practically? No. An essence is tied to someone's deepest beliefs, passions, or unconscious thoughts. It's like a reflection of their truest self. To predict it, you'd need to know every intimate detail about a person."

Luke thought about this. "So, your essence is about seeing people's descriptions and such. Does that mean you… really like judging people?"

Eleanor burst out laughing, and even Aldric gave a begrudging chuckle. "Not judging, you fool. My essence likely reflects my obsession with balance and observation. I've always been fascinated by the way things fit together—or don't."

"And Sylveria?" Luke pressed. "Her ability to clone herself…"

"That's a question only she can answer," Aldric replied. "But my guess is it ties to her dedication to being everywhere, protecting everything. She's… unyielding in her responsibilities."

Luke fell silent, mulling over the idea of essences as reflections of the self. He glanced at Eleanor. "What about you? Do you have an essence?"

Eleanor smirked. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

Luke blinked. "Wait, really? What is it?"

"It's tied to me wanting to be a hunter," Eleanor explained. "Near-perfect accuracy with projectiles. You remember when I shot that arrow that bounced off four objects before hitting you? That was my essence."

Luke's jaw dropped. "That wasn't just skill? That was your essence?"

Eleanor grinned. "Yup. Pretty handy, huh?"

Luke shook his head in amazement. "I wonder what mine would be."

Before the conversation could continue, Sylveria held up a hand. "We're here."

---

The clearing ahead was dominated by a towering stone structure. Vines and moss clung to its surface, but its craftsmanship was pristine, as though it had defied the ravages of time. The entrance was guarded by elves in gleaming armor, their presence radiating authority. Their helms bore intricate designs resembling leaves, and their spears shimmered with faint magical light.

As the group approached the grand entrance to the sanctum, a contingent of special guards greeted them. Each elf stood tall and impassive, their expressions hidden beneath intricate helmets that mirrored the artistry of the forest. One of the guards stepped forward and raised a hand, halting the elders' progress.

"Identification is required," the guard stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

The elders complied smoothly, presenting their credentials without hesitation. Even Queen Sylveria underwent the same protocol, affirming the necessity of these measures. The guards meticulously checked each identification before nodding and allowing the group to proceed.

Eleanor observed the process with a mix of curiosity and unease. A thought struck her as they moved deeper into the sanctum. She turned to Aldric and whispered, "If these guards know the location of the relic, wouldn't it be possible for someone to force that knowledge out of them?"

Aldric's ears twitched thoughtfully before he replied. "Under normal circumstances, that would be a concern. However, Elder Thalrien ensures it isn't a problem."

"How?" Eleanor pressed.

"He manipulates memories," Aldric explained. "When guards are reassigned, he erases all knowledge of this location from their minds. Only those currently stationed here retain awareness of it."

Eleanor nodded, though the explanation did little to quell her lingering doubts.

As their identities were confirmed, the group was escorted further into the sanctum. Inside, the air was thick with power. The group passed through several chambers, each one more ornate than the last. The elders positioned themselves strategically around the area, taking up posts to ensure the location's security. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Luke were led directly to the relic chamber.

Intricate carvings lined the walls, depicted the history of the relics and their role in maintaining the balance of Aethereon. Finally, they reached the inner sanctum.

The Elf Relic of Nature rested on a pedestal of living wood, its surface alive with verdant growth. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow, as though breathing. The air around it warped, bending light and sound in subtle, disorienting ways. Luke felt an overwhelming sense of awe, as though he were standing before the very essence of life itself.

"It's beautiful," Eleanor whispered, her voice barely audible.

Luke nodded, unable to tear his eyes away. The relic seemed to hum with a gentle melody, one that resonated in his chest and made him feel both insignificant and deeply connected to the world around him.

As Sylveria and Aldric left to guard the entrance, the guards abruptly turned on them. Spears and spells flew, shattering the sanctity of the location. Sylveria deflected an attack with a flash of her blade, her voice ringing out.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

Aldric's voice rose in alarm. "They're compromised! The Hand of Fate is already here!"

The words sent a ripple of dread through everyone, from the elders to Luke and Eleanor, as they braced for the battle to come.