Dawn broke over the settlement of the Ael'koryna with a peculiar quality—the sunlight filtered through the perpetual violet haze that hung in the air, casting elongated shadows across the crystalline structures and chaos-warped trees. Jolthar rose from his pallet, muscles stiff from the unfamiliar bedding. He had slept fitfully, dreams filled with violet flames and whispered voices that spoke in languages he almost understood.
Outside his dwelling, the settlement was already alive with activity. The ashen-skinned elves moved with purpose, some gathering strange fruits from the twisted trees, others working with tools crafted from materials Jolthar couldn't identify. They paused in their tasks to watch him emerge, their violet eyes unblinking and wary.
"Human," one called out, the word not quite an insult but certainly not a greeting. "The Elder awaits you at the Channeling Circle."
