Following the groundbreaking discovery of the twin crystals, optimism surged among the mages. They believed that if they could find their homeworld, Azura, the crystals would enable them to maintain a stable connection—a gateway they could open and traverse at will. They were confident: Grand Mage Orthelion would comprehend this achievement... and perhaps even approve of it.
Filled with hope and determination, Xarion and Saelen continued their quest. Years passed. They opened portal after portal—many were closed immediately, others led to dead or perilous worlds. Yet each new portal also meant a new crystal. With every opening, a twin crystal was deliberately created—and their stockpile steadily grew.
Saelen dedicated himself to studying the crystals. He discovered that these strange objects had apparently existed on Elanur since the beginning. Particularly in regions rich in magic, there seemed to be more of them. With King Alenion's permission, they began systematically harvesting the crystals—but under strict conditions: evenly, carefully, and never too much from one location.
Xarion, on the other hand, found that not all crystals were the same. Some could store astonishing amounts of magic—others shattered when overloaded. Their size was no indicator. Some small crystals endured more than large ones.
Then something unexpected happened.
An elven scouting party stumbled upon a cave during an expedition, where a crystal hovered—freely in the air, motionless, surrounded by an immense aura. It was the size of a watermelon but radiated a strange, intense energy. Xarion and Saelen immediately set out.
Upon arrival, they were breathless. The crystal indeed hovered—unsupported by any visible force—and pulsed with a deep blue light. Saelen stepped closer to examine it, but Xarion held him back.
"Wait," he said seriously. "We've created so many portals, so many twin crystals... Perhaps this one is our key home. Maybe we should create a portal right here—with this crystal."
Saelen hesitated briefly, then nodded.
Without seeking the king's permission, they began the ritual.
But as soon as the rift in the air opened, the unthinkable occurred: the hovering crystal suddenly absorbed the portal entirely—as if swallowing it. No light, no resistance—just a silent disappearance.
Xarion and Saelen stared in disbelief.
"This... has never happened before," Saelen whispered.
They tried again—with a different portal.
The same result. As soon as the first magical wave appeared, it was consumed by the crystal as if it had never existed.
"It's not just a storage device," Xarion murmured. "It's a nexus. An interface."
Saelen immediately erected a barrier of pure magic to prevent the crystal from becoming unbalanced. Together, they carefully transported it back to Thalas Aelin. It was to be brought to the magical research laboratory for thorough examination.
They knew: this crystal was different. Perhaps dangerous. Perhaps their only hope.
Years passed.
Portals were created—one after another. And each time, a twin crystal was part of the ritual. It had become routine, a method. A strategy between science and hope.
And then... after seventeen long years, it happened.
Xarion emerged from the cave as usual when he paused. In the shimmering magic of the newly created portal, a silhouette appeared.
His eyes widened. He could barely breathe.
"This... is not possible..." he whispered.
Before him, on the other side, rose the outline of a massive building—slender, tall, of floating elegance. The tower of the library. The tallest structure of Azura. His home.
Xarion cried out—loudly, unfiltered. Joy surged through his entire body. Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his face. His knees trembled. It was no dream.
Thalandir, his loyal guardian, approached in confusion. "What's wrong? What do you see?"
But Xarion didn't respond. Instead, he clenched his fist, gathered magic—and hurled a light orb into the sky. A signal. One that had been prepared for years. One that only one person would understand: Saelen.
Deep below, in the research wing of Thalas Aelin, Saelen jolted. The explosion above shook the room—not destructively, but unmistakably. A sign.
His heart skipped a beat. Then he broke free, ran through the corridors, leaped over steps, leaving scrolls and books behind without a second thought. Without uttering a word, he stormed into the palace halls.
"Majesty!" he called. "We've found it! Azura! The portal has shown it!"
King Alenion, surprised and visibly moved, didn't hesitate. "Show me."
Minutes later, a group of riders dashed through the forest—Saelen, the king, and several elves, accompanied by mages and scholars. Destination: the cave.
And then they stood before it.
The portal was larger than ever before. Stable. Powerful. And on the other side—far on the horizon—it rose: the library of Azura. A familiar sight from another time.
Saelen stepped closer. Speechless. His hands trembled slightly. Beside him, Xarion handed him the crystal.
"Do you see it?" he whispered. "The twin crystal? It's active."
Saelen nodded slowly.
Xarion continued, his voice full of reverence and immense relief.
"This is the door. Our door. The path to our home planet. And—for the first time—a way back."
He turned to Saelen. Tears still filled his eyes.
"We did it, my friend. We've connected two worlds."
The portal stood open.
The shimmering, magical disc pulsed softly, as if breathing. Beyond it: Azura. Their home. Their past. And perhaps... their future.
But Xarion and Saelen hesitated.
They stood at the edge of the transition, just one step away—and yet it seemed unreachable. Their knees trembled. Their hearts beat faster, heavier. They had longed for this moment for so many years. And now?
Now they no longer knew how to return.
What awaited them on the other side?
Joy? Reunion with old friends? Those with whom they once researched side by side, laughed, argued, dreamed?
Or would they be met with distrust?
Perhaps with reproach? With fear?
Or even with punishment?
The initial euphoria faded. It gave way to a bitter uncertainty.
Then King Alenion approached them. His gaze was calm, his voice clear.
"If neither of you wishes to go through," he said, "then I will. I want to see your world with my own eyes. The beauty you've spoken of so often. The source of your longing. And—your Grand Mage Orthelion. I want to see for myself if he is truly as wise as you've described."
Thalandir immediately stepped forward, recognizing the situation.
"My king," he said firmly, "allow me to accompany you. I've seen many worlds. And I want to see this one with my own eyes. But... should the two mages wait here for us?"
A grin flickered across his face. It wasn't mocking—it was brotherly.
Xarion smiled faintly.
"And in all those worlds, you've never gotten lost, Thalandir?" he asked softly.
Saelen stepped beside the king, his voice now composed.
"Majesty... I will bring you to Grand Mage Orthelion. I will speak for you."
A final glance between the two mages. Then they nodded to each other.
And together, they set off.
Xarion, Saelen, Thalandir, King Alenion—and thirty elven warriors on horseback.
They stepped through the portal. Into a world that was once familiar to them—and that would now receive them.
Or condemn them.
They rode at a gentle gallop. The banners of the elven king fluttered in the wind. Ahead lay Azura—their lost homeland.
The closer they came to the city's gates, the more fiercely Xarion and Saelen's hearts pounded.
And then they saw it.
In front of the city gates—lined up—stood them.
Mages.
Over two thousand. Ready for battle.
Wands raised, eyes alert, runes glowing beneath their feet.
The Grand Mage had expected them.
The horses snorted, came to a halt. The two mages flinched.
But what truly shook them wasn't the army. It was the realization: they were expected as enemies.
Xarion quickly turned to the king. "Please... stay here. This is our responsibility. If anything happens—it's because of us. You have nothing to do with it."
King Alenion nodded. Silently. And let them proceed.
Xarion and Saelen dismounted. Their steps were heavy but determined.
Before them, a gap opened in the defense. From the ranks of the mages, four figures emerged.
In the center: Grand Mage Orthelion.
Beside him: Commander Dereth—once their instructor. And three other high-ranking mages, all armored, all ready.
Xarion and Saelen bowed their heads slightly, as a sign of respect—or perhaps remorse.
What they didn't notice: Thalandir and King Alenion had also dismounted and followed them at a respectful distance.
It had been seventeen years.
Seventeen years since that day in the cave. Since that argument. Since the escape.
And now they stood before him again.
Before Orthelion.
Saelen was the first to speak. His voice was calm—but fragile.
"Grand Mage... please forgive us. Through our research, we discovered something greater than ourselves. But when the troops came, everything spiraled out of control. We made mistakes—we're sorry."
He glanced back at the elves.
"The elves had nothing to do with it. They only accompanied us. They are peaceful—they didn't want us to go alone. If there was any trouble, it was our doing—not theirs."
Xarion stood still. Beside him, Saelen continued to speak, trying to explain, to apologize. But he knew that words now meant little.
Then someone placed a hand on Saelen's shoulder.
It was King Alenion.
He had noticed the trembling in Saelen's voice. And he spoke calmly.
"Saelen... can you translate what I'm about to say? Let me speak with the Grand Mage. Leader to leader."
Xarion and Saelen looked at him in surprise. They hadn't noticed he was right behind them.
Then—a loud laugh.
Orthelion laughed. Loudly. Freely. Unexpectedly.
Confusion spread through the ranks of the mages. The elves also looked at each other questioningly.
Then Orthelion called out:
"So you're the new king of the elves? What happened to Avalon? That stubborn fool...!"
Even more confusion. How... could he understand their language?
King Alenion responded calmly:
"My grandfather was named Avalon."
Orthelion became serious.
"And... are you the son of Arthon?"
Alenion