Blood Elf Monarch

Tristan's eyes snapped open and realized this time he was standing among a group of young elves.

They started to move towards the forest in groups, while Tristan was still disoriented. He tried to make sense of the surroundings

"Why are you standing around, Virtaz?" One of the kids shouted. "Get moving!"

Not wanting to look suspicious, Tristan decided to walk through the crowds and followed them. It was already dark, the stars dotted the skies, and the silvery rays of the moon bathing the surface of the trees. Fireflies dance on the bushes and flit near the tips of his fingers, but Tristan had no mind to appreciate the beautiful place.

"Where am I…? Why am I here?" These questions filled his mind, and he tried to stop and collect himself, but his body kept on moving as if following a script set for him. Tristan's presence was like the boy's subconscious mind. He only has limited influence on the boy.

Considering what that blood elf called the name of the shard 'memory fragments', it was only reasonable to assume that he was now experiencing the memory of the blood elf himself. It was a reasonable guess to say that this was from the time when the blood elf was still young.

He looked around, and without even counting, he could tell there were a thousand elves gathered here. All of them are high elves, but they're all around 8 or 10 years old at most. They were all part of an elven academy, and from what Tristan could glean, they have trained for a few months and today was the day for some kind of final exam.

A young girl ran towards him, breaking him from his reverie.

"Brother Virtaz, I finally found you!"

Layla was the name that first came to Tristan's mind, and he almost said it out loud, but the memory seemed to play tricks on him, and when he looked at her again, the girl was a white-haired female elf, seemingly only slightly younger than him. The memories told him that this was Nisha, Virtaz' younger sister.

"Nisha. I told you not to stay too close to me. You need to do things on your own, otherwise you will never grow."

"Yes, yes," the girl answered, but she proceeded to ignore him and stayed close to him. As the elf looked around the crowd, his memories told Tristan about a few familiar faces.

After all, they had been fighting and training together for the last few months.

The group consisting of hundreds of young elves finally arrived at the designated place. In the middle of the forest, there was a sparkling lake casting a silvery glow all around them.

It was the clan's most sacred palace. The Moon Lake, named for its surface, looked like glass and glowed silver like the moon.

In the middle of the lake, one small tree stood, and a woman stood on the tallest branch. When everyone saw the figure, all the elves, be it the young, the old, or the warriors, all bowed their heads.

"Our Queen, The goddess of the night. Our praise for Queen Azhara."

The queen glowed brightly, like a beacon in the middle of the night.

All the young elves flocked near the elders, and they were given a small vial of red liquid to drink before they were all told to enter the lake. 

  It was quite out of the ordinary, as from the memory, Tristan could tell that normally, elves were not allowed to touch the lake.

The massive, knee-deep moon lake was quickly filled with one thousand young elves.

Dozens of elf magus started to form a circle around the lake. Before long, they chanted, their words accompanying the rise of the moon. The moon lake started to glow, and with it, a primal fear settled in Tristan's heart.

His body turned burning hot and damp, and sweat poured out all around his body. With the heat, came the wild, all-consuming rage that could only be quenched by hurting someone.

At first, his thoughts turned towards his sister, but there was no controlling the urge. Everyone in the lake started to turn on each other, and the place descended into utter chaos. One kid took a large stone and bashed another kid's head with it. A different kid took a beautiful carving knife and gutted his friend's throat.

The friendship, the laughter they shared in the academy, were all quickly forgotten in the bloodbath.

Slowly, Tristan felt his body become stronger, but at the same time, his consciousness started to fade.

The ritual lasted a few minutes, but out of the thousands who entered that day, only less than two dozen elves survived. The pristine moon lake had turned into a bloody lake that smelled of iron and rot, but Tristan could not think about anything. He could only focus on wading through the bodies of former friends.

On his way, he saw a familiar white hair, and pulled the figure out. His body trembling as he saw her sister was covered in lacerations from head to toe, and her throat was only hanging by a few sinewy flesh.

The sister saw Tristan, gave a last cheerful smile, and breathed her last.

It was the memory of the blood elf, but Tristan felt deep searing pain, like his heart was seared with a hot poker. Right as he thought about Layla, he once more returned to the room with the blood figure.

[You have unlocked a memory fragment!]

[You have reached third stage Katra]

The blood figure twisted and turned, and slowly formed into a person. His height and built were the first to form, and his hair was the last, creating a mirror image of Tristan's body. 

"I am Virtaz, the last surviving blood elf. Now, do you understand now why I chose your soul?"

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Written and Directed by Avans, Published by W.e.b.n.o.v.e.l, 

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