"We should not leave," Xanveris, Myra's son, said firmly.
Xelvanya, her daughter, countered, "It is safer and more abundant in the green lands."
"This cavern is what made us who we are! If we leave, future generations will grow up soft and weak, unable to defeat the goblins—let alone any flying spawn or desert beasts!"
"Just because we're moving doesn't mean we'll lose what we've learned!"
"I'm not talking about what's in our mind," Xanveris replied heatedly. "Words cannot replicate experience! A few trials and ceremonies in the desert will do nothing!"
"Who said our future-born must experience these hardships? Where was that decided?!"
Myra quietly sat upon a throne of bones and chitin, held together with spider silk.
The entire dark elven populace had gathered at her command. She watched their expressions shift with worry, fright, and anger as she told them of her journey.
Lands of plenty brought feelings of awe and excitement. Mention of their elven kin, untainted by the struggles, stirred envy and disdain. Discovery of the Primordial lands and her ascension raised intrigue and further respect for Myra that teetered on worship.
Selena, the Eldritch Abomination who caused their plight decades ago, disguised as a cave, sent shivers up their spines. Knowing that their enemy, the original corruption that spawned the goblins, had been so close was horrifying to say the least.
'Both of them are correct,' Myra thought. 'I hate to admit it, but I've grown attached to this place too.'
Zark bent down next to her with a warm smile. "Is this invasion something you can defeat?"
"No."
Myra's words echoed. Everyone fell silent.
"Selena will be awoken and lured toward the threat. The God of Tenebris, especially not I, knows not where it will begin. The war could start next to our Oasis."
"If a horde of green-skins were to appear next to our Oasis without warning, we would perish," Zark mused, straightening himself again. "I must concur with Xelvanya. This is about survival."
Myra nodded. "We will return when the time is right."
"We are to return?" Xelvanya's bewildered tone rose. "Why return to this?!"
"If you don't wish to return, then don't."
The nonchalant delivery turned heads with confusion. Even Zark arched an eyebrow.
"I was torn myself when I decided this," Myra sighed, then raised her voice in declaration.
"Once this threat is over, we will split our people in half between the green land and our home here. Each child, upon turning one hundred cycles old, must take a voyage to their counterpart's home to reside for another hundred."
"We will time it so that the next children arrive with at least twenty-five cycles of guidance, should the older ones wish to depart into the world or return to their original home. If the eldest is to depart too soon, we would ask that they stay until the twenty-fifth cycle mark."
Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd. Only a few of the originally spawned dark elves remained, and some clearly held doubt.
"Why should we split our already small people in half? That is dangerous for both homes," one voiced.
Others joined in.
"Our home will be overrun by our corrupted brethren by the time we return! We shouldn't leave!"
"Let us depart here forever! Never to return!"
"Enough," Myra silenced them with a wave of her hand. "If our home is overrun when it is time to return, then I will cleanse it. Do you doubt my power?"
Sighing, she leaned back into the throne. "We have close to a decade before the war begins. This will give us adequate time to discover whether the greenland is suitable for us. We are accustomed to the dangers of the sands, not the grass and leaves. Fresh challenges await us."
"So we are to depart soon?" Zark inquired.
Myra nodded.
"May we assist you in this war?" Xanveris asked.
"No. We cannot afford to lose anyone. You must remain vigilant, however. New enemies may roam the land thereafter."
--------------------
After that, the dark elves began to pack up. Bags made of spider silk were crafted to transport their belongings atop their salamanders. It was a fairly simple, but lengthy, process due to their limited number of salamanders, the long travel distance, and the dangers they had to avoid along the way.
Their new home?
A densely forested region climbing the slope of the nearest mountain, rugged terrain with cliff faces and stepped ridges, and clean streams that ran through it and spilled over in waterfalls at each level.
Some of the vertical faces held empty caves, which were quickly converted into homes. An ironic choice considering it was the very thing some sought to escape, only to return to it for comfort and practicality.
They didn't have to worry about goblins from the mountains. Instead, the danger of harpies came from up the mountain. Goblins did roam below however. Most were no longer under the influence of any Brood Mother but for the few that were, Myra made quick work of tracking and exterminating them.
In some ways, this region was more dangerous because of that. But with abundant food, reliable shelter, and clean water, several pregnancies were announced in a short span. A rare and welcomed event, especially with their historically low fertility.
"A few babies here and there," Atlas sighed. "Most likely it will only offset their casualties in the next decade. Accidents are bound to happen in this new environment."
"And if not?"
"Well then, I'm happy for them."
"Hm... I should have the Primordials and dragons familiarize themselves with the lay of the land a few years before the war begins."
"Are you going to have Myra be your messenger again, Weaver Atlas?"
"Yes. Who else? I'll give it time though, so they can adjust."
Wisp chirped, tilting its head. "Can that time be afforded right now?"
"What else is there to do? I don't have resources, and the Weaver Gathering is over. The desert is vast too, so I can only hope our gamble with Selena pays off."
"Gambling is not a good strategy."
"This isn't a strategy without intel. Only blind preparation for the worst."