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He winced when a sharp pain laced through his head. He slowly opened his eyes, and gingerly sat up putting his hand to his head where a large goose egg was forming. He looked around in horror as memory flooded his brain. It was over, and nothing remained of the beautiful fields of Psie. The green grass was no longer green but scorched black from fire, and stained red from the blood of his people. Scattered around were broken arrows, swords, axes, bows, and bodies. He lowered his head, closing his eyes in grief.
Cerran was the last of his kind among the ruins of Myrakra. A great evil had penetrated their quiet island after five hundred years of peace. Now driven by fear, he must perserve the way of his people and keep their races histories safe, he leaves the protected island and races to a world unknown to him. The world of men.
Elves of Rivendell |
