Greenwood, Capital of the Elven Empire
The grand palace of Queen Elara stood in the heart of Greenwood, an ethereal city of silver spires and enchanted forests that shimmered under the eternal glow of the twin moons. A place of divine beauty, where the whispers of magic flowed through the air like a living force. But on this day, the halls of the palace carried an air of grief and vengeance.
Elara sat upon her throne, draped in flowing robes of midnight silver, her long, radiant hair cascading like the moonlit rivers of Forestia. Before her, the Royal Council knelt in silence, awaiting her decree. The news had already spread across the empire—Prince Dyug von Forestia, 387th in line to the throne, had perished on the battlefield of a distant, primitive world.
The single tear that trailed down her flawless cheek before vanishing into the aura of Lunar magic that surrounded her was a trace of her motherly love . It was a brief moment of mourning, but nothing more. She was not just a mother—she was the Queen of the Elven Empire, and weakness was unbecoming of her.
Her silver eyes burned with cold determination.
“They have taken my son from me.” Her voice echoed across the chamber, resonating with a force that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened warriors. “For this, Earth shall drown in fire and magic. Their world shall know the wrath of Forestia.”
The assembled elves lowered their heads in solemn agreement.
“The First Fleet is already being assembled, my Queen,” spoke High General Valeria, a Royal Elf with piercing violet eyes and a commanding presence. “The portal magic is unstable, but our scholars blessed with Goddess Luna's divine wisdom have determined a more suitable opening point—Antarctica, on the southern edge of their world. It will allow for a full-scale invasion.”
Elara nodded approvingly. “We will not repeat Dyug’s mistake. This time, we strike with the full might of the Empire.”
But before she could continue, a voice called out from the entrance of the chamber.
A figure clad in golden armor strode forward. Kneeling before the Queen was Mary, the Sun Knight, a warrior of radiant presence, her blonde hair tied into a firm braid, her golden eyes burning with conviction.
“Your Majesty,” Mary said, her voice steady but filled with desperation. “I beg you—allow me to take part in the coming war.”
Gasps filled the chamber. A mere commoner—a Sun Knight—had spoken so boldly before the Queen herself.
Her noble master, a High Elf lady draped in the white robes of nobility, immediately stepped forward in outrage. “Mary, you overstep your station! Apologize to Her Majesty at once!”
But Elara raised a hand, silencing the room. She gazed at Mary with piercing interest. “And why do you wish to fight in this war, child?”
Mary clenched her fists, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because I loved Dyug.”
Silence. A heavy silence that suffocated the chamber. Even the air itself seemed to still.
Elara’s expression did not change, but her silver eyes glowed faintly with understanding.
“He loved you too,” the Queen finally said.
Mary’s breath hitched, but she quickly regained herself. “Then allow me to avenge him.”
The nobles murmured among themselves. A Royal Elf had loved a commoner? Unthinkable. Yet, before any could object, Elara rose from her throne, her presence alone enough to command silence.
“Very well,” she declared. “You shall lead a new order of warriors—the Royal Knights—composed of Commoner Elves, Sun Knights, and Lunar Priestesses. You will serve directly under me in this war. You will fight in Dyug’s name.”
Mary’s eyes widened, disbelief and gratitude warring within her. She bowed deeply, her heart pounding. “I will not fail you, Your Majesty.”
The Gathering of the Fleet Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novｅlfire.net
In the coming days, the great cities of the Elven Empire burned with preparations for war. Across the forests of Forestia, the First Fleet of the Empire was assembled—an armada of enchanted ships, each one a floating fortress of divine magic.
The flagship, Lunaris, was the pride of the fleet, a grand vessel of moon-forged steel, commanded by none other than Grand Admiral Sylwen, a Royal Elf with centuries of naval warfare experience.
Beside her stood General Valeria, leading the Imperial Legions—thousands of High Elves and Commoner Elves trained in the arts of war, their weapons and armor blessed by the Lunar Priestesses.
Mary, now clad in royal-issue armor, led her newly formed Royal Knights—Commoner Elves who had sworn their loyalty to her and the Queen.
The portal mages granted authority to the portal by the Goddess Luna herself worked tirelessly, weaving the magic necessary to open a new gateway to Earth. The ritual would take time, but soon, the path to vengeance would be opened once more.
Days turned to weeks, and finally, the time arrived.
At the heart of the royal palace, beneath the towering spires of Greenwood, the sacred portal chamber shuddered as ancient runes blazed to life. The air crackled with power as the space between worlds was torn asunder.
A great, swirling vortex of shimmering silver erupted into existence—a portal to Earth, this time opening not over the warm waters of the South China Sea, but in the frozen wastelands of Antarctica, near the southern tip of South America.
A frigid wind howled through the portal, carrying with it the distant echoes of a foreign world.
Elara stood before the great gateway, her silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight. She raised a hand, and the assembled armies knelt before her.
“Go forth,” she commanded. “Let Earth know the fury of the Elven Empire.”
With that, the First Fleet surged forward, vanishing into the portal one by one.
Mary stepped through last, gripping her sword tightly, her heart burning with purpose.
For Dyug. For vengeance.
This time, Earth would not stand a chance.