Chapter 5: I AM...

Outside the palace, in a carriage racing at great speed, two children and an elderly elf were seated, all dressed in high nobility attire. The carriage swiftly moved, taking them away from the destruction unfolding in Viora's palace.

Suddenly, a massive explosion caught them off guard, making them look back. The beautiful structure of Viora's palace burst into an infernal glow before collapsing into a pile of burning debris.

The explosion, mushroom-shaped, initially provided a breathtaking spectacle from a distance, but its speed caught up with the carriage. The shockwave tossed the vehicle into the air, making it fly and crash violently into several trees before finally coming to a stop behind the fifth shattered tree.

The elderly elf, who had shared the carriage with the children, quickly assessed the condition of his young passengers. The girl was in a panic, crying and trembling, while the boy lay unconscious in his seat.

The elderly elf sighed and reassured the girl, wondering why he couldn't use his mana to protect them from the explosion.

Carefully, he took the two children out of the wrecked carriage and placed them on the ground. As the princess clung to his leg and sobbed, the elderly elf looked around.

At that moment, his companion, another elderly elf, arrived. The two old elves looked at each other and clicked their tongues in annoyance simultaneously.

The elderly elf with the princess clinging to his right leg spoke sarcastically. "What a misfortune for the world that this old stubborn one is still alive."

The newcomer, with equal sarcasm, replied, "I'm also glad to see you in good health, Maelinor."

The two old elves looked at each other and smiled, acknowledging the irony of the situation.

Both were aged, evident in their grayish hair and beards, as well as the wrinkles adorning their faces. However, there the similarities ended. One was tall, standing at 1.8 meters, with a muscular build and an upright posture. He was a warrior in his prime, with hair and beard precisely trimmed, dressed in formal yet comfortable attire, and a sword hanging from his belt that seemed a natural extension of his figure. The other, in contrast, was shorter, measuring 1.65 meters, with a hunched back that subtracted a few centimeters. His appearance, with long hair and beard, hinted at a scholar, a mage dedicated to study who seemed reluctant to venture outside his library.

Maelinor looked at his companion's imposing figure, now smeared with mud and leaves, and joked, "It seems that the great Belassar, the most famous general on the continent, has been dragged through the mud."

Instead of continuing the banter of his old friend, Belassar adopted a serious tone. "Maelinor, that explosion was in the palace. Shouldn't we go back?"

Maelinor, also serious, replied, "Impossible, Belassar. We've been entrusted with the protection of the princess, and that's what we'll do. The palace has fallen into the hands of rebels and orcs. We can only flee and take care of the princess."

As the two old elves discussed, the princess, still tearful, let go of Maelinor's leg and went to check on the accompanying boy.

Approaching the boy, who leaned against a tree, she shook him a couple of times in an attempt to wake him. Finally, her efforts paid off as the boy opened his eyes, confused and dazed. He looked around in silence before fixing his gaze on the beautiful elven girl who observed him with curiosity.

The elven girl was extremely beautiful, like a porcelain doll. She had golden hair, red eyes from recent tears, and a runny nose that only added to the cuteness of her small figure. Despite her beauty, her once elegant white dress was now torn and stained with mud in some parts.

What caught the boy's attention the most were the long, pointed ears protruding from her golden mane. They were so unusual and beautiful that the boy extended a hand to touch them, but the girl, scared like a startled cat, ran towards Maelinor instead.

Instead of following the girl, the boy stood absorbed, examining his own arm in amazement. It wasn't until Maelinor's shout pulled him out of his reverie. "Enki, you've awakened, boy. How can you be so fragile as to faint so easily? Don't tell anyone I'm your grandfather; I'd be embarrassed."

Belassar intervened to help Enki. "Old fool, as much as you're his grandfather, remember that he is the son of the archmage, and his position is only second to the princess."

Caught in the middle of the discussion between the two old elves, Enki only mumbled to himself, "Enki, grandfather?, archmage?"

*

Adam crossed the threshold of the mysterious white door, unaware of the torrent of astonishment awaiting him on the other side. There, before his eyes, stood a blonde girl of supernatural beauty, her pointed ears resembling those of the legends he read in fantasy books.

Surprise flooded him, and he couldn't resist the temptation to reach out and check if it was all real. However, the girl retreated with fear in her blue eyes, as if the shadow of a stranger lurked.

The hand that had tried to touch her, unlike his, was delicate and pale, more fitting for a child than a man. And his arm, exceptionally short, defied the laws of anatomy.

Confusion echoed in his mind, but revelation came with the voices of the two old elves. One called him a grandson, while the other alluded to an archmage and identified him with a name foreign to his memories: Enki.

Adam's attempt to articulate words was overshadowed by a piercing pain that hammered his skull, as if something inside him was about to tear apart. A groan of torment escaped his lips, and the two old elves rushed to his side, full of concern.

Adam was immersed in a painful migraine that seemed to plunge him into his own consciousness. When he regained awareness, he found himself in a ancient-looking room, seated at an elegant desk adorned with a century-old book.