Vaelith T’sarran
Heir of the Midnight Throne
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Vaelith is secretly planning a coup against his own family. But to succeed, he must rise to the surface—where enemies, former slaves, and an unfamiliar world await him. And perhaps… someone who will truly see him for the first time. The air was thick with damp and decay, clinging to the lungs like a curse that refused to fade. Deep beneath the surface, where no sun had ever dared to reach, the prison halls stretched endlessly—carved from black stone, veined with faintly glowing fungi that cast a sickly violet light.
Chains whispered before they were seen.
A row of cells lined the corridor, each one holding what remained of once-proud elves. Their silver hair dulled by grime, their elegant features hollowed by hunger and time. Some sat in silence, eyes empty. Others stared at nothing, lost in memories of forests that no longer felt real. At the far end, behind iron bars etched with cruel runes, one elf remained standing.
Chains whispered before they were seen.
A row of cells lined the corridor, each one holding what remained of once-proud elves. Their silver hair dulled by grime, their elegant features hollowed by hunger and time. Some sat in silence, eyes empty. Others stared at nothing, lost in memories of forests that no longer felt real. At the far end, behind iron bars etched with cruel runes, one elf remained standing.