The deer falls to the ground as the arrow strikes its right flank. Vilijn barely needs to exert any effort to aim accurately. It’s always this way when he hunts in the Kalta Forest. For some reason, hunting here feels easier. The magic permeating this forest is so powerful that he can sense it all around him. He has often wondered about the source of this magic. Whatever it may be, it enables him to provide food for the drows living in Vrammahath. However, it’s not just the forest’s magic that makes him an exceptional hunter. The other drows who join him in hunting, like his good friend Miranox, never bring back as much game as he does. He has a natural talent for hunting.

  He walks over to the deer and hoists it onto his shoulders. Then, he starts toward the doomstone that brought him to the forest. The day is clear, with no clouds in the sky, and the temperature is pleasant—a luxury he only enjoys when leaving the shadow world. In the shadow world, a perpetual chill lingers. He never minded it until he set foot in the Kalta Forest for the first time. Since then, he has longed for the day he can leave the shadow world permanently. The warmth on his skin is something he craves every day, though he knows this dream will never come true.

  Instinctively, he throws the deer into the air with little effort. It lands on one of the branches of a nearby tree. He swiftly climbs up, his nose having alerted him before his eyes could spot the danger. Less than a minute after he settles into the tree, two wood elves appear in the clearing where he had just stood. Unaware of the threat, they continue walking. Vilijn stays hidden for ten minutes, watching the elves carefully. It would be disastrous if they spotted him.

  No elf on the planet Mysterix knows of the drows' existence. There are rumors, of course, and some have sporadically encountered a drow. But no one on the planet knows that the drows have an entire society and live, like many other elven races, on the continent of Kongorn. The only difference is that they must reside in the shadow world—a decision made long ago by Remiro Dahvar, Vilijn's distant ancestor.

  Climbing down, Vilijn slings the deer over his shoulders again and resumes his walk to the doomstone. Known as Witurn, it stands in one of the easternmost points of the continent. The surrounding area is quiet, free of elven tribes, making it an ideal location for a doomstone.

  When he’s about 500 meters away, he notices the marking on a tree. The symbol on the tree matches the one representing their goddess, Megteld, who has always guided the dark elves and promises to one day lead the drows out of the shadow world. At least, that’s what the priestesses preach to the thousands of drows. The symbol on the tree looks like a large black blotch. When Vilijn places his hand on it and speaks the words I dúr nil, white lines appear across the black surface.

  A white circle becomes visible, containing a smaller circle. Beneath the smaller circle is a horizontal line, interrupted by two smaller horizontal dashes. These lines together form the symbol of Megteld, his goddess. Vilijn touches the symbol. After taking a single deep breath, he finds himself back in the shadow world. The warmth vanishes, and the clear day is replaced by a faint purple glow. This dimension is always dimly lit, whether it’s day or night.

  He walks a little further and sees Witurn. The monolithic stones remain the most ingenious creation of his ancestors, allowing the drows to traverse Kongorn effortlessly.

  Without the doomstones, reaching the Kalta Forest from Vrammahath—on the other side of Kongorn—would be impossible. Sending a hunting party on horseback would be a death sentence, given the countless dangers in the shadow world. Only the cities of Vrammahath, Ungethal, and Abburth provide safety.

  Placing his hand on Witurn, Vilijn waits a few seconds for the transportation to begin. Using a doomstone took him a long time to master. First, the stone absorbs the traveler’s entire body. Then, it moves them at incredible speed through a rainbow-like tunnel. The senses cannot adjust properly. All Vilijn feels during the journey is the sensation of being hurled to another location. Upon arrival, the destination doomstone expels the traveler.

  Only seasoned travelers can use a doomstone without issues. When Vilijn first began using them, many things went wrong. Sometimes he wouldn’t move at all; other times, he ended up in completely unexpected places. Over the years, he has become an expert. Through years of study, he even managed to create a doomstone himself. Losing this knowledge would be a tragedy in Vilijn’s eyes.

  This time, the journey is smooth, and he arrives at Vrammahath’s gates as expected. Several carts are already waiting, loaded with the day’s haul from the Kalta Forest. Vilijn places the deer in a cart filled with other game. “You’ve had quite the day, haven’t you, Vilijn?” a voice calls. He turns to see his friend Miranox standing near another cart. “Would you expect anything less? How’s your luck been today?” “Not bad, but I’ll head back into the forest soon. It’s a beautiful day for hunting.” “You’re not wrong. Shall we go together? We’d catch more as a team.” Miranox smiles briefly, but it fades quickly. “I can’t, Vilijn. Vuzeth was here earlier. He asked me to give you this letter from your mother—it’s urgent.”

  A letter from his mother always means she wants to see him. Bidding Miranox farewell, Vilijn heads toward the city gates. The guards signal him as he approaches, opening the gates before he reaches them. He nods in thanks and continues walking without pause. As he makes his way toward the palace, he opens the letter.

  Vilijn,

  It is time we discuss your responsibilities as crown prince. Your father and I have reached an agreement. I want to speak with you about this. Meet me at Amon Fé Hill. It is time for change.

  Vilijn reads the letter with surprise. His mother and father reached an agreement? When has that ever happened? The tone of the letter makes it clear there’s no time to stop at the palace. His mother expects him, and he knows better than to keep her waiting. Spotting a passerby on horseback, Vilijn signals to him. Without question, the rider dismounts and hands over the horse. Vilijn mounts and urges the horse into a gallop toward Biasmui.

  As he rides, the bells of Megteld’s churches begin to chime. Within moments, the streets of Vrammahath fill with drows heading toward the nearest church. Faith in Megteld remains strong to this day. Any drow who skips a mass faces severe penalties. Only a select few are exempt from this rule—Vilijn, as crown prince, is one of them. With the streets clearing, Vilijn’s journey to Biasmui becomes much easier. Biasmui is a vast square in the city’s eastern quarter. Most drows avoid it, and for good reason. The temperament of dragons is unpredictable, and no one wants to meet their end because a dragon is in a foul mood.

  “King of the Three Realms, my purple beauty. Come to Biasmui, where I shall care for you so that all may marvel at your magnificence. Oh Trauvar, ruler of the Shadow World.”

  Vilijn sends his thoughts to Trauvar, who often refers to himself with such grandeur.

  “I was sleeping, Vilijn. Leave me be. Or do you think a Yuvia burns itself to ash without effort?” Trauvar’s irritation is evident, but Vilijn knows the dragon will respond if necessary.

  “I was thinking we could fly together to Amon Fé Hill. If you’re unwilling because of the Yuvia, I can always ask Gydaxar instead.”

  “You dare, drow! No one flies with you but me. You are mine, Vilijn! Never forget that. I’ll meet you at Biasmui within the hour. Do not make me wait.” “That’s not acceptable, Trauvar. Arrive as quickly as you can—I have other matters to attend to today. A crown prince has many responsibilities, after all.” A tense silence follows. Then Trauvar snaps back: “For that tone, drow, you’ll wait an hour longer. And if you leave with Gydaxar, you’ll need a new crown prince because you’ll be too busy lying in your grave!” “Trauvar, make haste. Surely you wouldn’t want Queen Syllyana to wait for us?”

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  The mental connection falls silent. When Vilijn finally sees Biasmui, Trauvar is already waiting. The magnificent purple dragon stands in the center of the square, his scales gleaming, his wings outstretched proudly. Vilijn halts the horse at a safe distance and dismounts. As Vilijn approaches, he glances toward a building containing tools to clean the dragon. Before he can step inside, Trauvar’s voice rumbles in his mind again. “There’s no time for that, Vilijn. It wouldn’t be wise to keep Syllyana waiting. You can groom me on the way, at Lake Zicé.” Vilijn suppresses a smile. Syllyana, his mother’s dragon, has always been Trauvar’s weak spot. He hopes nothing ever happens to her, or Trauvar’s moodiness would make him perpetually late, leaving Vilijn to face his mother’s wrath.

  He heads to another building, retrieves Trauvar’s saddle, and secures it around the dragon. Climbing on smoothly, he signals for Trauvar to take flight. The dragon ascends rapidly, slicing through the air with powerful wingbeats. In mere minutes, the city of Vrammahath disappears behind them.

  There are few things Vilijn enjoys more than hunting in the woods, but flying with his dragon is definitely one of them. From the sky, he has a view that only a select few in this world will ever know. Below him, lakes and cave entrances stretch out, and he notices bats, spiders, and trolls—creatures the drow can easily defeat.

  Yet, the shadow world harbors even more dangerous beings: gigantic worms, Yuvia, and Aboleths. Creatures he prefers to avoid, and which remind him that the drow are not the true rulers of this world.

  The only safe havens for his people are the cities of Abburth, Ungethal, and Vrammahath. Everywhere else, anything can happen. Only a few, like him, can move relatively safely through the shadow world, and that is solely thanks to their dragons. For it is not the drow but the dragons who truly rule this world. Most are wild and obey no one. Even Trauvar rarely listens to him. If he is honest, Vilijn must admit that his dragon is more his master than the other way around. Yet, their bond connects them, makes them stronger. Over time, they become an inseparable duo, but he must always remain vigilant—Trauvar is and remains a dragon.

  After a brief stop at Lake Zicé, the rest of the flight goes smoothly. When he sees his mother and Syllyana standing on a hill, he notices something rare: a smile on her face. With bravado, Trauvar lands on the hill. Syllyana shoots the dragon a challenging look and immediately takes off again. Without giving Vilijn a second glance, Trauvar gives chase.

  “Vilijn, what do you see around you?” Nedrill Dahvar is known for never starting a conversation straightforwardly. Her way of negotiating is one of the reasons she is regarded as one of the greatest drow queens in history. Her silver-colored armor exudes authority, but it is mainly her unwavering confidence that earns her the respect of many.

  “What do I see, Mother? I see the shadow world, a harsh place where you must prove yourself to achieve anything. To the east lies the Kongornian Lake, to the west our capital, Vrammahath. This is our home, Mother.”

  The smile vanishes from Nedrill’s face. “This is not our home, Vilijn. This is our prison. It is time for you to face reality.”

  “Of course I see it, Mother. You, more than anyone, know that I would much rather be in the Kalta Forest than here in this bleak shadow world. It is cold, dark, empty, and dangerous. But it remains our home, and that cannot be changed.”

  A bright flash of light fills his vision. Before he knows it, he is on the ground. His head pounds as the light fades away.

  “Son, how many times must I tell you to keep your barriers up? If I can bring you down without any effort, what do you think our enemies could do? Or have you forgotten them, just as you have forgotten our true home—the light world?” Her eyes shine with determined fury. “We discovered Mysterix and made it our second home, but never forget our original world, Vilijn. Our ancestors would turn in their graves if they knew you called the shadow world ‘home.’ Especially Imrae Dahvar! She gave her life to stop the high elves. They and all their descendants are our enemies. Because of them, we are trapped here, while they still hold Mysterix in their grasp!”

  Her voice is a promise. “I will not rest until I have reversed the roles. And for that, your father and I have a task for you.”

  Vilijn stiffens. “You have spoken to each other? That must have been years ago…”

  “Do not mock me, Vilijn,” Nedrill interrupts sharply. “Xaro and I may have our differences, but we agree on the fate of our people. Just as we agree on your role in it.”

  She opens her hand and reveals a copper ring.

  “Today is the last time you hunted in the Kalta Forest. In a few days, you will travel to Mysterix via a doomstone and remain there. You will live in the realm of Kontri? as the old elf Drago Naedi. In the coming years, you will live among the old elfs. Once every three months, you will return for one day to report to both your father and me. As long as you wear this ring, you will take on the appearance of an old elf. It is your duty to uncover their strengths and weaknesses. Thanks to your information, we will leave this shadow world for good.”

  “And who will take care of the food? You know better than anyone that I am the best hunter. And what about Trauvar? What will happen to him if I do not see him for years?”

  “Everything has been taken into account, Vilijn. Miranox Clurichaun will become the new head hunter. Trauvar will be cared for by his mother, Eldratha. They have loyally served you for years. Who else would be better suited for these tasks?”

  Vilijn clenches his fists. He knows that Miranox has always sought more power, and now his strategy has worked. But his mother is right: there is no one he trusts more with his dragon or as head hunter. The Clurichauns are the best choice.

  He takes a deep breath and nods. “Mother, I will prove that I am a worthy heir. You have always doubted me, but I will show you that it was unnecessary.”

  Nedrill looks at him intently. “I hope so, Vilijn. With all my heart. Because if this plan fails... I do not know what will become of our people.”

  --

  "You didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you? Now that we’re back in Vrammahath, you have all the time to take care of me properly. I, Trauvar, king of the three realms, cannot return to the skies like this!"

  Vilijn had hoped to leave for the palace. He wants to speak with his father about his mother’s plan. Leaving the Shadow World for years is an undertaking he cannot begin without thorough preparation. "Did Syllyana have any complaints?" The headache his mother had given him suddenly returns at that remark. "Know your place, Vilijn! Not another word about Syllyana!"

  Vilijn carefully considers his words but realizes that whatever he needs to tell Trauvar will reach him anyway. It is best if he says it himself. "Oh, Trauvar, magnificent purple fury, do you remember my friend, the drow Myranox Clurichaun? He will be the new head hunter. I can no longer combine that role with my responsibilities as crown prince. That’s why Myranox’s mother will also take care of you."

  With every sentence he speaks, the pounding pain in his head worsens. His dragon is not pleased. Vilijn hopes he will survive this conversation. "I decide who is worthy to care for me!" Trauvar hisses threateningly. "You belong to me, Vilijn! I am more important than any responsibility you have as crown prince! This idea surely comes from your mother, doesn’t it?" Vilijn had already expected this reaction. The only thing he can do is try to calm Trauvar down. The last thing the drows need right now is an enraged dragon above their capital.

  "I will leave the Shadow World in a few days," he says calmly. "I will live in Kontri?, among the other elves. My ultimate goal is to leave the Shadow World for good. Can you imagine it, Trauvar? Soaring across the planet Mysterix? A world filled with life? You could be the king of the entire planet!" A long silence follows. Slowly, his headache fades.

  "Fine," Trauvar growls at last. "I will allow you to leave the Shadow World for a certain period. But no drow will decide who takes care of me! I am not some pet you can simply lend out! I will choose who replaces you. Who knows, Vilijn, maybe I won’t need you at all anymore!"

  With those words, Trauvar stretches out on Biasmui Square. He fixes Vilijn with a commanding gaze. Without another word, Vilijn begins tending to his dragon. No more words are spoken.