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Chapter 708: The Elven War Prep (1)
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... tals. The chamber's root membranes dimmed in reverence, recognizing ancestral cadence even if many present had never mastered it. Quills stilled. The half-elves dared not breathe.
"Elarith Quor marches not to conquer—but to reclaim," Draven intoned. His voice was low, measured, as though reading from stone tablets older than the hall itself. "Their king lies beneath broken crowns, yet priests remember. They knot rite to root, will to wound. What birthright once slipped between their fing ...
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