Chapter 819 Dawnbreaker

In the heart of an ancient forest, where the trees themselves whispered secrets of the ages, Eldermage Illyrion's office stood. Crafted from the living heart of an enchanted tree, the room pulsed with a life of its own, its walls glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Here, amidst scrolls and tomes that contained the wisdom of millennia, Illyrion, guardian of her people and master of elven magic, observed the unfolding devastation wrought by Zagrath and his demonic forces.

With a heavy heart, she watched through a scrying pool, the surface shimmering with images of worlds aflame, including those of her own kind. The destruction was total, merciless—entire civilizations reduced to ash in the blink of an eye. As she bore witness to the annihilation of elven realms, a deep, sorrowful sigh escaped her lips, the weight of her grief palpable in the silent chamber.