The news reached the elven kingdom through the scrying pools, the crystalline waters rippling with images of carnage that made even hardened warriors draw sharp breaths. They had seen the battle unfold in real-time—watched their sisters fall to the dwarf's brutal efficiency, watched Byung be dragged into that cursed prison, watched two capable elven warriors reduced to broken bodies in a matter of moments. The images replayed in the council chamber, preserved by magic so the full scope of the disaster could be assessed.
The Queen's three strongest warriors stood at attention, their expressions carefully neutral despite the fury burning beneath the surface. They knew they needed to act because it was only a matter of time before the dwarf escaped their line of sight completely, vanishing into those cursed underground tunnels where scrying magic failed and tracking became impossible. Every moment they delayed was a moment closer to catastrophe.
