A few days of leisure pass, spent in getting to know Ulorn and Alcia a bit more, and with my occasional gallivanting through the council chambers while in character. But eventually, it is time to depart.

Elisa is staring at me intently, weighing something in her mind. Finally, she sighs out, "Keep me updated, okay?"

"Of course."

She tucks a lock behind her ear. "I'll see you back home." She then quickly adds, "Right?" More of a command than a question.

"Yes." I take a moment and then ask, "Are you still up for this? I have contingen—"

"I am," Elisa interrupts. "Have some trust in me."

"I do. I trust you with my life, Elisa. I've always trusted you with my life." She looks away, most likely remembering her own daring proclamation.

The elf huffs and collides with me in a hug. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, ma'am. Also, don't act like I am going to die or something. You know how hard that actually is."

I can feel her eyes rolling behind my back. She chuckles and refuses to fall for my masterful trap. The hug persists.

While this whole thing has been taking place, Alcia and Ulorn have been silently grinning at us. Elisa and I do our best to ignore their existence. I am sure this is as embarrassing for her as it is for me, but I'd rather not let any of it go unsaid.

After a period that feels both too long and too short at the same time, she lets me go. With a final goodbye, Alcia and I make our way to the council chambers.

Inside the building, we are met by an elf awaiting our arrival—our transportation. He greets us and starts preparing his spell. A protective bubble envelops all three of us. Power gathers under our feet for a few minutes, and after a muted snap, we appear in a rocky field, just outside what looks like a giant fortress.

I detect fine vibrations under my feet, imperceptible to almost any person. A closer look reveals underground tunnels with the structure as their origin. The tunnels continue on, going toward the rest of the Dwarven Empire. From time to time, something traverses these oddities—the source of the vibrations. High-speed trains carrying materials out. Directing my attention above the surface, I regard the drab, grey fortress, or rather, fortress city. A towering castle with many spires. Its insides unknown, protected. A shimmering barrier making its existence known. The building dominates the desolate landscape, the only curiosity breaking up the endless uniformity.

We are close to an already open gate. A dwarven delegation is awaiting our arrival. Two dwarves dressed in luxurious silks, ideal for the mild weather. They are joined by two bulky forms constructed out of metal and radiating power. The golems are each studying us with a singular glowing, crystal eye. Armor over armor. Enchantment over enchantment. Razor-sharp claws connected to bulky hands and arms. A large body hiding deadly surprises, supported by a pair of thick legs.

"Shall we?" Alcia asks.

"Yes, Councilor," I answer.

We approach the welcome party. One of the dwarves greets us, "Honored Councilor Alcia of Deepgrove and company, it is a pleasure. Welcome to Blackhold. I am Governor Trahir. If you would please follow me, I will guide you to His Imperial Majesty. He has been most eager to finally meet you in person."

Alcia smiles at the dwarf. Oh, so that's what her fake smile looks like. Unsettling and reassuring at the same time. "Thank you. Lead the way," she says.

As we start following, the other dwarf turns to our third, "Sir Mage, please follow me." Our taxi service gives us a nod and joins him. I'm kidding, Eldin, you have been very helpful.

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We pass through the gate, entering the vast building, and going straight ahead. Eldin is taken somewhere to the side.

The two golems are following closely behind us, while our guide is slightly ahead and gushing about the city, "Built nearly three hundred years ago, this marvel of dwarven ingenuity houses a very important dungeon for our glorious empire." The dwarf turns around, momentarily glancing at Alcia. "But you must already know that, Councilor." He nods to himself a few times and continues, "At any given time, over a thousand dwarves call this place home. Any manner of professional you might need, from an army of cooks to our amazing custodial staff." The governor chuckles to himself. "The unsung heroes of this place if you ask me. Almost as heroic as our brave warriors that delve the depths every day." He chuckles to himself again.

Alcia politely comments, "Impressive." I shake my head inwardly. Wrong time to boast, my guy. Her standards for impressive are currently astronomically high. Quite literally too.

The occasional dwarves we encounter give us a wide berth, but they still regard Alcia and me with some curiosity, directing polite nods of acknowledgment our way, before promptly scurrying away.

We climb a few sets of stairs and enter something that looks suspiciously like an elevator, leaving the golem entourage behind. Trahir presses a button, and we start moving. "The city can be entirely self-sufficient for an extended period of time. Everything we might need is securely held within." He sighs sadly. "My apologies, it has been a stressful year." The governor then appears to regain his excitement. "But now that you are here, I am sure we can reach a peaceful solution. His Majesty shares my surety as well."

The magical elevator stops, and he opens the door for us. We step into a hallway with a carpet so plush that our feet sink in. Judging by the wear on the carpet and the surface below, it was put here only a few days ago. The dwarf rushes ahead awkwardly, careful not to trip on the workplace hazard.

When we all reach the end, he opens the door inward, proclaiming to the room, "Introducing Alcia of Deepgrove, Councilor of the Elven Confederacy, Emissary." We step inside. The room appears to have been recently gutted of almost anything. Wide windows offer an unparalleled view of the sprawling emptiness outside this lonely oasis of civilization.

A deep yet mellow voice welcomes us, "Councilor Alcia, was the journey here pleasant?"

The governor remembers his obligations and interrupts Alcia's answer before it can form, "His Imperial Majesty, Iffir Iffirsson!"

The emperor waves his hand. "She knows who I am, Trahir. You can leave us now." The poor guy bows deeply and slinks away, closing the door behind him.

Alcia, entirely unaffected by the exchange, answers the emperor's question, "It was as one would expect." Well, maybe not 'answers'.

Emperor Iffir is sitting on one of the short sides of a long table. There is an empty chair on the other side and another in the middle of one of the long sides. He motions to the one in the middle. "Please." Alcia somehow stops one of her eyes from twitching. My presence here was not a last-minute addition.

She takes a seat in the unnecessarily large chair and begins exchanging pleasantries with the emperor. While that is happening, I take my place behind her and start to discreetly study the man himself. An older dwarf, but not that old. Brown hair with some speckles of gray showing. A long, braided beard, full of various jewelry. Thick rings on his fingers. Fine clothing. And a simple-looking, golden crown adorning his head. Every item crackling with magic.

And then I study his four companions. Three of them look like the golems we first encountered, except even bigger and somehow appearing even deadlier. Darker metal is shining pristinely, almost hurtful to the eyes.

The final figure is a different story. The fourth golem is closest to the emperor, nearly touching him. If one would give the golem a passing glance, one might mistake it for a human woman. Black hair made out of some metal, the strands flowing down and bending, soft to the touch. Brown eyes that appear to hide something in their unseen depths. Off-white surface, almost a healthy pink, is gently deformed by the slight pressure exerted by its clothing. The surface is not a perfect polish. No. It would be a disservice to call it anything other than skin. Even its chest rises and falls in rhythmic movements, mimicking rather than taking in. The First Dwarven Emperor's final creation—Mara.

Before the shallow discussion can progress too much, the shadows in the room shudder, ending it in its tracks. All golems flinch at the occurrence and train their eyes on the same point. The people, including me, are a few seconds behind. Each shadow is dragged away from its natural position, swirling into a flat circle of darkness on the floor, and exactly where the golems are looking. The circle erupts into a black column of even more writhing shadows. A figure passes through the boundary, the shadows stretching, covering their form. After a step, the figure stops. The shadows flow away, returning to their original locations like nothing happened, revealing the latest and final arrival—Demon King Xyll Ghillion.

With all actors assembled, it's time for the performance to begin.

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