Corvin scaled the serpentine path winding up the Bleak Vale's highest ridge, each step crunching obsidian gravel underfoot. At the summit, Proudspire's lesser layers gave way to a lone monolith of midnight stone: Ravathos the Gray's tower, half buried in ash and crowned with three spiraling horns of obsidian and silver. Smoke curled from narrow windows and the wind carried the tang of burning parchment
He paused before a shattered balcony festooned with scrolls. Beyond lay a vast hall whose floor groaned beneath mountain ranges of books and scattered parchments. Leather bound tomes lay open, secrets spilled in every direction. The air hummed with raw mana that felt ancient, dense and scholarly
Even cloaked in stealth, Corvin sensed a shift in the magical currents. A voice boomed from the rafters in perfect Elvish:
"If the Synod still sends daggers, they have forgotten my location. Show yourself, young shadow spawn, let us greet before the clash."
Corvin's heart jolted. Ravathos's mastery of stealth detection rivaled any Archmagus ward. He shed his cloak in one fluid motion and let the shadows recede
From the tower's vaulted entrance emerged a towering figure: Ravathos the Gray. Eighteen hundred years of power carved into his massive frame. Broad shoulders draped in ash gray cloaks, every inch of his skin etched with runic scars. Three proud sets of horns spiraled from his skull, each tipped in moonlight silver
Ravathos studied him, amber eyes glowing beneath a heavy brow. After a moment he spoke again, voice calm and amused:
"You are neither High nor Dark Elf, nor one of those Light fools. Yet you bear the features of the Origin Elves I've studied. Your eyes and mana bloom as the old tomes describe. Somewhere in this chaos there lies that record"
He gestured to the scattered books. Corvin caught sight of pale leather scrolls inscribed in archaic script
Ravathos continued, skepticism in his tone:
"Tell me then, what does the Synod want? Are they angry we have our own Psychic magi?"
Corvin's lips curved in a slight smirk, "I'm sorry to say you have no Psychic magi at Magus level anymore. But I seek another lore. That of the First Elves, if you have a moment."
Ravathos's horns creaked as he inclined his head. "Korvath will be delighted to learn his prized Vanguard is gone. Very well, shadow spawn. Let us unravel the past before steel tests us."
Corvin stepped forward, Following the elder demon. Across the cluttered hall, Ravathos snapped shut a vellum stained codex, amber eyes gleaming while gesturing to a dusted table. Corvin sent a single spore to latch to Ravathos.
"I sense something, an unfamiliar ripple in the wards," Ravathos murmured, voice resonant. "A fresh sigil or twist of sorcery. Tell me, was this born of the Synod's spellsmiths?"
Without a word, another spore drifted from him, invisible save for himself. The spore latched succesfully.
Ravathos froze, nostrils flaring as he detected the alien trace again. He swore under his breath: "By Ash and Blood… you've breached my defenses." His gaze bored into Corvin's. "Is this your craft or theirs?"
Corvin allowed a sly lift of his brow. He inclined his head, neither denying nor claiming the act.
Ravathos exhaled, amusement softening his tone. "A clever trick. I'll give you that. But such subtlety from the Synod or someone else, bodes ill." He gestured to a weary reading desk. "Pray tell, shadow spawn, are you here to slit my throat for the glory of Lloth, or to bargain for the lore of the First Elves?"
Corvin offered a polite bow. "No blade today, demon. I'm here for knowledge. At least untill my thirst is quenched or one of us becomes bored enough."
Ravathos's horns shifted as he leaned back against a tower support. "Very well. Sit, then. We shall unspool the past together… if you prove enlightening enough."
Ravathos waved to a pair of carved stone chairs by a window overlooking the Vale. "Come, shadow spawn. Let us stir the embers of history."
Corvin settled opposite the scholar, his gaze drifting to scrolls inscribed with looping Elvish runes. Ravathos cleared his throat, brows knitting in concentration.
"Long before the Sundering," Ravathos began, voice rich with age, "the Planarchs opened gates freely, seeking knowledge, power, dominion. It was in that arrogance that the first calamity tore the veil…"
Corvin raised a slender finger, tone polite but urgent. "Forgive the interruption, but what exactly was the Sundering?"
The demon scholar hesitated, one hand hovering over a leather bound codex. After a heartbeat he nodded, as if deciding to trust the stranger.
"The Sundering," Ravathos said softly, "was the world's awakening to its folly. Aetherborn, Elves, Humans, even my own kind tore space asunder and invited the Evolving Nightmare through. That horror we call the Old Enemy. Entire cities were swallowed in a single night, they consumed with a hunger beyond mortal ken. Verthalis' strongest came together and formed The Circle. The Circle forged new laws, no gate without their supervision, no experiment without oath to seal the breach."
Corvin's eyes sharpened. "And the Evolving Nightmare? What became of those first horrors?"
Ravathos's gaze darkened. "They were hunted to the ends of Valtheris, their kind reduced to myth... until now. If one has returned, its hunger may never be sated."
Silence fell, the weight of ages pressing in. Corvin's mind raced with fragments of stolen memories and whispered terrors.
Corvin broke the hush, voice low and urgent, "Tell me more of the Old Enemy. What became of those first creatures?"
Ravathos closed his eyes, recalling forbidden lore. "They were no mere beasts. The Old Enemy devoured flesh and soul alike, then reshaped the remnants into horrific hybrids. Limbs of serpent and claw fused with once Human, Elf, Demon, Feralis or Aetherborn forms. Wings of shadow sprouted from scorched backs. Each consumed host birthed a new horror. Ever changing, ever more monstrous. Thus we named them the Evolving Nightmare."
Corvin nodded, pieces falling into place as he recalled the three fates offered in his own evolution. "And how were they identified?"
Ravathos leaned forward, voice hushed. "Thanks to Synod and your mind walking. When the Old Enemy seized a body, it used that host's memories to mask its hunger. Only by probing minds could one detect the alien void beneath. Your Synod kin perfected these techniques, tracing the void's ripple in thought. Though few records remain, it was their dark gift that first exposed the Nightmare's faces."
Corvin absorbed the explanation, recalling Archmagus Vaelorin's blood fury at psychic demons. "So the Sundering was born of this war?"
Ravathos rose, pacing among the scattered scrolls. "Indeed. Elves, Humans, Demons united only in desperation. City after city were devaured, each more bloody than the last. The Nightmare soared through to the point where Valtheris cracked at its seams. Cities fell. Empires burned. Our knowledge, our art, our magic. all were reduced by centuries. That cataclysm we call the Sundering."
He turned to Corvin, expression grave. "Our world has never fully healed."
Corvin's gaze hardened. The path ahead lay shrouded in destruction, but also in chance. "Then let us learn all we can, thus history may never repeat itself."
Ravathos leaned back against the chair and fixed Corvin with a thoughtful gaze. "Let us return to the Elves my young friend." the demon said and continued, "long before the Sundering, this world knew only one true power of sentience: the Aetherborn. Their elemental hearts stirred the very ley lines of Valtheris and shaped the first ages. Only then did the Elves emerge, your forebears born of will of the world and song of ancient tree."
He rose and paced among towering shelves, brushing his clawed fingers against a stack of silver leaf manuscripts. "But even pure light can fracture. It is said that Lloth, an entity from beyond our planes, whispered to a handful of elves. She offered them secrets of the mind and shadow, the first spark of Psychic and Dark magic. Those who took her gift built hidden shrines in moonlit groves. They called Lloth their Mother. Others scorned this devotion and cleaved themselves away, preferring the ancient tree. Thus the rift was born."
He let the silence stretch, then sat back to meet Corvin's eyes. "The rift grew larger by the day. The worshippers of Lloth became the Dark Elves of the Synod. They sealed themselves in subterranean citadels and bound their souls to oaths of purity. Their silver blue mana, once the birthright of all Elves, faded from their veins, reserved for the High Elves who remained in the open world. However Verthalis' will did not agree to let nature's children to keep her gifts if they were to be divided. You need to understand my shadow spawn friend, Elves were different, they had a special bond with the planet. Feralis as well are living close to nature yet while the Feralis is part of that nature, Elves were her wardens in the eyes of Verthalis. With the divide of your race my dear, that silver blue mana, the hand of the Nature mother left your species. There is also those we call Light Elves, yet they are not Elven in the eyes of any faction. They are but half bloods, born of unions outlawed by nearly all sides. They claim freedom in their mixed lineage, yet neither High nor Dark courts grant them welcome."
He spread his hands toward the spire's vaulted ceiling. "That is the heritage you see today. Two proud lines, each convinced of its own righteousness, and a ragged fringe of half bloods caught between them. It is a story of devotion and division, power and exile, all born of one fateful choice to embrace shadow or stand in the light."
Corvin absorbed the weight of those words. It was nice to learn the history of his 'chosen' race yet what he was focused more was the history of his own race. 'Dark Parasyte', 'Old Enemy', 'Evolving Nightmare', it seems fate has not abandoned this cursed species yet. Giving it one last push by transmigrating him into one. At least he has some knowledge about how people of this world was able to identify the invaders and he was pretty sure to press down the instinct that wants to siphon and absorb the whole planet even more.