Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"You surprised me a little?" Daxus raised his arm, signaling to calm down, and then slowly glanced at Morathi who suddenly appeared not far from him. His tone was a little surprised, but also mixed with a bit of amusement, as if he was looking at a rare antique that unexpectedly appeared on the exhibition stand.

"Oh?" Morathi raised her eyebrows slightly, with a relaxed and indifferent smile on her face. Her posture was elegant, and she didn't seem to take Daquus seriously.

"I thought..." Daxus paused deliberately, with a hint of teasing in his eyes, and then pretended to be amazed, "You have already left Gorond, or... your lower body has turned into a snake tail, and wings have grown from your back?"

"Like Drusala?"

"No! It's not her." Daxus shook his head, a smile on his face, "It's Fulgrim."

"Fulgrim?" Morathi frowned slightly, and a hint of confusion flashed through her calmness and composure. She seemed to have never heard of this name before, and could not understand what Daquus was trying to say.

"It's okay. But I'm really curious, Moras, why are you here?" Daxus waved his hand and said casually.

Morathi did not answer immediately. She lowered her head with a faint smile on her lips, as if she was recalling some distant and unknown past. At this moment, her expression was soft and complex, peeling off the coldness on the surface, revealing another side that was buried deep inside. After a moment, she raised her head and looked directly at Daquus, with a hint of deep and unfathomable emotions flashing in her eyes.

"The world of my childhood was a world full of light." She spoke slowly, with a hint of nostalgia and tenderness in her tone. "At that time, the shadow of Chaos had not yet enveloped the earth, and the elves lived in peace, an endless, tiresome peace. Peaceful enough to be boring and annoying."

"This is not good news for you." Daxus half-jokingly said, but his eyes were fixed on Morathi, observing his opponent's every move like a hunter.

"Yes." Morathi sighed, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, revealing a self-deprecating smile, "I was too naive, too stupid, and too innocent at that time. I didn't realize how luxurious peace was. At least before the omen appeared, I was indeed innocent."

"That was a gift I received when I was eleven, a gift that caused me great pain. I saw the future, a future devoured by chaos, a future of death and destruction." Her eyes became distant and calm. She paused, and her smile became a little more self-deprecating. "I am a true prophetess. My gift is to see the future, but the irony is that I cannot see the entire future at a glance."

"You..." Daxus wanted to complain. What a clear view of the future. Not to mention Liv, even Lilith couldn't do it. But he finally endured it. He shrugged and said, "Later..."

"Yes, no one believed me." Morathi nodded, her tone calm, but with a hint of hidden anger. "There was only contempt and suspicion in their eyes. They said I was a madman, a troublemaker, and a dangerous existence. The elves at that time lived under the long golden rule of the first Everqueen. They were too well protected and had no idea of ​​the cruelty of the world. Their lives were like an eternal Garden of Eden, but I saw the shadow of destruction."

"disappointment?"

"Disappointed? Perhaps. But more often, I just think it's... ridiculous." Morathi repeated softly, with a faint mocking smile on her lips, and then an unignorable chill emerged, as if she was recalling the painful past, and as if she was mocking herself at that time, "I tried to attract their attention. I predicted, warned, and even used my beauty to attract the princes' eyes, trying to make them listen to me. I even tried to persuade the first generation of the Everqueen herself. But what was the result? They were like cattle in the summer fields, munching on the sweet grass, and never believed in the existence of slaughterhouses."

"Until the disaster comes, and everything turns to ashes!" She smiled, with a cold mockery and deep irony in her smile. She paused, her tone suddenly turned cold, and her eyes were full of ruthless coldness, "Now, those elves who once refused to believe in me are dead. And what about me? I will live forever. I will reshape this world according to my own will."

Dacus raised his eyebrows slightly. He caught a hint of danger from Morathi's tone, but he still stood there, unshakable. He looked at Morathi quietly, like a judge listening to a sinner's final defense.

Morathi's voice suddenly became soft, with a hint of enchantment, as if a poisonous snake was whispering in her ear, "That day is coming soon, Daxus, I will become a goddess." She raised her head slightly, with undisguised enthusiasm in her eyes, "I will create a new world, a world that belongs to me!"

"Until I show up." Daxus raised a smile at the corner of his mouth, with a dangerous light flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, until you showed up." Morathi raised her eyebrows, a complex emotion emerged in her expression, her smile did not disappear, but instead had a more treacherous meaning. Her eyes slowly swept over the figure of Daquus, and her tone was filled with an indescribable heaviness and helplessness, "I can't see any future in you, you stir up the future, everything becomes chaotic, unknown, and disordered. My ability, my talent for foreseeing the future, has lost its effect on you." At the end, she sighed softly, as if she was lamenting her own powerlessness.

"So, do you know why I'm here?"

"Because there was a moment when new changes occurred in your future?" Daxus's eyes narrowed slightly, and the smile on the corners of his mouth faded a little.

"Yes, so please talk to me before that bitch shows up." Moras nodded, with a hint of fatigue in her tone. When she said this, her entire aura seemed to collapse all of a sudden, becoming decadent and powerless, and the light in her eyes dimmed a little.

Daxus frowned slightly. He looked at Morathi in front of him, and mixed emotions emerged in his heart. He had imagined many scenarios before coming here. He imagined that Morathi had escaped and went to the Chaos Wasteland, looking for opportunities to make a comeback. He imagined that Morathi had completely fallen, like a certain demon prince, with wings growing from his back and his lower body turned into a snake tail. He also imagined that he would fight fiercely and curse Morathi who resisted to the end and refused to associate with Chaos in the Tower of Prophecy.

He had thought of many possibilities, but he had never expected this to be the case.

It was not because he lacked imagination, but because the scene was too unbelievable. Morathi in front of him was more like a tired storyteller, and he could not see through it for a moment. If this happened to someone else, he would believe it, because a dying man's words are good, but when it comes to Morathi... there is no way, the stereotype is too deep.

He opened his mouth and wanted to ask about the prophecy, such as whether Morathi had seen the future of Hellebron, but in the end, he shook his head. Now Morathi seemed to just want to talk, or was she just stalling for time?

"I am ready for the coming doomsday." Morathi said softly, as if there was self-mockery and unwillingness mixed in with the memories, "I have searched for all kinds of forbidden knowledge. If the elves will not help me, then the best thing I can do is to ensure my own survival."

"The strange thing is," she continued, her voice low and slightly bitter, "in all these tormenting visions, I never saw Aenarion, just as I never saw you, Dakwus. If I had, perhaps things would have been different? I might have been different?"

Her voice gradually became softer, and the last sentence was like a sigh spoken to herself. She paused, looked up at Daquus, and a brief moment of confusion flashed in her eyes.

"Alas... When I met Aenarion, I had been walking on a dark road for a long time. It was too late to turn back, even if I really wanted to start over." There was a hint of helplessness in her tone, but more of it was resignation to her past fate, as if these were the endings she had long been destined to and could not escape.

She paused, collecting her thoughts.

"You know what? Aenarion was already very famous at that time, and his power surpassed everyone. He was a cold mortal god with god-like eyes. He believed my prophecy, because the end of the world had already come, and my prophecy was confirmed and fulfilled."

She gave a wry smile.

"Strangely enough, Aenarion does not need me. He does not kneel before my beauty. He looks at me with eyes for another."

There were too many points to complain about. Daxus's face twitched and his expression became stiff. He tried to control his expression to prevent himself from suddenly laughing out loud. Of course, he knew who the person in Aenarion's eyes was. According to Morathi's description, Morathi was actually at that time...

No one believed the prophecy, the lover in her heart did not love her, and even after the next era, the last echo of Aenarion still regarded her as an enemy and attacked her.

Really... he didn't know how to comment on this absurdity, or perhaps he was not qualified to comment at all.

"You know what? Aenarion's indifference is a problem for me, a challenge I cannot avoid." Morathi said softly, with a sense of emotion and persistent self-mockery in her tone. "I am determined to win him, save him from his sorrow, and bring Aenarion to my cause."

"Your career?" Daxus raised his eyebrows slightly, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "Becoming a god? Becoming a goddess? Creating a new world, a world that belongs to you?"

"Yes." Morathi nodded, her tone calm, but a trace of regret flashed in her eyes, "But fate played a trick on me, and I lost."

She chuckled, with a hint of inexplicable ease in her smile, as if she was making fun of herself.

"In this love game, I found my true love. At the beginning, I just wanted to seduce Aenarion to fall in love with me, but in the end, I found myself falling madly in love with Aenarion like an innocent girl of sixteen. All I wanted to do was love Aenarion."

When she said this, she laughed softly. Her laughter contained some joy, but more of it was a kind of calm acceptance of the absurdity of fate.

Daxus nodded without saying anything, but raised his eyebrows slightly.

"I won Aenarion in the end, but he never loved me as I loved him. He could not, and the hatred of his dead wife and missing child filled his heart, and those emotions hung over him like a shadow. He was lost in his own grief and his thirst for revenge, and in the end those emotions consumed him." Morathi's voice was soft, but with an unconcealable sadness.

She paused and raised her head slightly, as if gazing into some distant past, with a hint of complex emotions in her eyes.

"He threatened to destroy the world, but he didn't. He saved it."

Her tone fluctuated slightly, as if she was lost in deeper memories.

"I have fought beside Aenarion, slain those who slaughtered my people, cast spells, brewed deadly poisons, and devised battle strategies for my beloved's armies. I consider my service far greater than that of Eloran Anar, who was but a banner-bearer, a lieutenant!"

There was a barely perceptible hint of resentment in her tone.

"I have used my gift of illusion to bring countless victories to the elves. What about Eloran? What did he do?"

"The funny thing is, the Asur have forgotten that now. Ever since my sons split the elven kingdom, they prefer to portray me as a complete villain in those lighthearted, low-brain morality plays." She chuckled, her smile full of mockery and coldness. "Those plays have always been popular with the Asur. They have no idea what it costs to win these battles when everyone thinks the world is about to end, and what price I paid for victory!"

As she continued speaking, her tone slowly changed from sarcasm to a low voice, until finally, it turned into a helpless sigh. "I rarely brag about those victories thousands of years ago, because I don't think it's necessary." She said softly, her tone became softer, but still with that kind of hidden pride, "I prefer to live in the present, let the world know me, fear me, and desire me. I am involved in more fields than my son, and I have more powerful power than him."

"Alas, my poor son. He tried hard to be like his dead father, but he never succeeded. He could strike fear into others, but he could never be loved." Her eyes revealed a trace of pity and helplessness, and her tone carried a hint of a mother's sigh and sadness. "In some ways, he is stronger and smarter than his father, Aenarion, but he lacks the kind of fire that made Aenarion."

Her voice became low, but filled with a strange determination. "He has done many great things, all of which are his attempts to prove himself to his father. His desire to be seen in the eyes of others is so strong that sometimes he tastes the bitter fruit of failure just when success is about to be achieved."

She paused for a moment, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes, as if these memories themselves were a torture.

"At least that was the case before you showed up, Dacus." Her eyes fell on Dacus, as if hinting at something but not completely revealing it.

Dacus nodded, his expression did not change, and he did not respond. He knew that Morathi did not need any answer now. Morathi just wanted to talk, or rather, these words were more for herself.

At this moment, he felt more like a priest, conducting a confession ceremony for a dying person. Unfortunately, Morathi was not doing a confession. Her words were more like a calm statement, or a summary of fate, ruthless and unchangeable.

Fortunately, he was not a judge, let alone a clergyman. He did not criticize Morathi's words, nor did he comment on Morathi's choice, because all of this had long lost its meaning.

Could it be that he wants to be present at the entire public trial?

He just stood there quietly, staring at Morathi in front of him, letting her continue to talk. Whether Morathi was seeking to be listened to or to delay time, he would not let himself be disturbed by Morathi's words.

"Indeed, compared to his unsurpassed achievements, his daily life left a far less impressive impression," Morathi said slowly, her voice full of nostalgic calm and mockery. "Malekith did not even understand why. The reason was simple. Aenarion died in his greatest moment. So the elves could build their own ideal hero image and praise him without worrying that a living Aenarion would come and tell them: These are not the real me."

She laughed softly, and there was a hint of complex emotions in her laughter, as if it was both ironic and melancholy.

Daxus also laughed. He thought Morathi was right. He agreed with her on this point.

"Poor Aenarion, if he were still alive, he would be more than seven thousand years old now, right? But he rejected the immortality I offered him and resolutely walked towards his own death. This is one of the reasons why I love him and hate him at the same time."

She paused, a trace of undisguised pain flashing in her eyes.

"He always said that it was better to be an ash burning in the fire than to be dust flying on the ground. However, in the end, he did not get such a heroic ending. He walked into the flames and tried to become ash, but the flames refused his request. His body turned into dust flying on the ground, mixed with those enemies he killed."

Her voice gradually lowered, with a kind of tired helplessness in her tone.

“No one even knew his final resting place. I searched many times but never found my husband.”

She sighed softly, her eyes slightly lowered, and a trace of regret that was difficult to conceal flashed in her eyes.

"All we found was the remains of his armor, and nothing inside it. I cannot believe that he has decayed completely, and I do not want to think of that possibility. I would rather remember Aenarion as he once was."

She paused for a moment, her gaze seemed to penetrate time and space again, staring at the figure in her memory, and her tone became soft and ethereal.

"I am weary, but I can still easily imagine what Aenarion looks like. Cold and cruel, tall, with broad and powerful shoulders, a face as handsome as a god, eyes as bright as the sun and full of sorrow... and that terrible sword, gleaming at his waist."

She closed her eyes gently, as if she was trapped in a memory that she could not escape.

"There has never been an elf like him. I don't know whether this uniqueness should make me sad or grateful? I am grateful that my lover is the only one in the world."

She opened her eyes, laughed, a little self-mockery and a little pain, and continued.

"I sometimes wonder if this is also a kind of attraction he has for me? Our love... even if we once loved each other deeply, it has become stale with the passage of time. I have learned to hate him and even despise him."

Her voice gradually became lower, with a hint of fatigue and some emotions that could not be completely put aside.

"But there is no doubt that Aenarion is the one the elves should always remember. He was their first Phoenix King, the godlike warrior who saved them from doom."

Her eyes fell on Daquus, and her tone was calmly certain, with a hint of arrogance and scrutiny.

"You, and my son, are no match for him!"

Dacreus lowered his eyes slightly, his face expressionless, and then he nodded. Morathi's assessment was correct, Aenarion's greatness was beyond doubt.

"Of course, Aenarion did not do it alone." There was a calm sigh in Morathi's voice, as if she had analyzed this history countless times. "He may have won every battle, but without Caledor, he would have lost the war."

She paused, her tone adding a hint of sarcasm and indifference.

"The elves choose to remember only that great battle, and Aenarion's desperate efforts to protect the wizards in the final moments. But in the end, it was Caledor who saved the world, was it not?"

She raised her chin slightly, her tone firm.

"He created a spell that drained the Winds of Magic and sent the demons back to the Realm of Chaos."

"His features were thin, his forehead was broad, and his features were unusual for an Elf. His eyes were as cold as a glacier, and he was as memorable as Aenarion... perhaps a better tool than Aenarion? But... he was too cold and too clever to be manipulated, and I could never love him as I loved Aenarion."

There was a slight pause in her voice, and then her tone became deeper.

"He is no hero like Aenarion."

Her eyes flickered, lingering on some memories, and her voice lowered, but with a subtle respect and regret.

"Yet beneath that cool, calculating exterior he was, like Aenarion, fearfully brave. In the end, Caledor and his companions gave their lives to make their great spell work. They knew it would bring them nothing worse than death. Their souls remain to this day trapped in the eternal vortex, frozen in time the moment they were slain by the power of the spell they spun."

When she said this, she paused for a moment, as if waiting for Dacus's response. But Dacus just stood there silently, his eyes slightly lowered, as if he was thinking deeply, or as if he didn't want to interrupt her narration.

In fact, Daxus opened his mouth and almost blurted out: "I met Caledor a few years ago." But he finally swallowed the words. Now is Morathi time, he knows this, Morathi needs to talk, and all he needs to do is listen quietly and deal with what needs to be done.

"I've lived long enough, Daxus." Morathi suddenly changed the subject, her voice low but with a calm and confident tone. She raised her head, with an indescribable tiredness and detachment in her eyes, "I'm old. I've witnessed the drift and change of the continents for thousands of years, the constant changes of glaciers, and the mountains being crushed by the earth as the plates moved forward."

She smiled bitterly, and a hint of loneliness flashed in her eyes.

"I may be the oldest mortal in the world. Only the gods are older than me, and they don't have to live in this place like me, nor are they bound by this place like me."

Hearing this, Daxus could not help but nod slightly. He agreed that Morathi lived longer. After all, in the long years, he knew that there were very few mortals who could compare with Morathi. They were mortals, not dragons, dragon demons, Slann and other strange beings. Perhaps the only one who ranked ahead of Morathi was that Lord De, but that...

"Can you promise me something, Daxus?"

Morathi's gaze suddenly turned to Daquus, an unfathomable light flashed in her deep eyes, and her tone revealed a complex emotion.

coming!

"Ok?"

Dacus raised his head, frowning slightly. He gave a brief response, his voice calm, but with a hint of vigilance in his eyes. He didn't know what Morathi was going to say next, but he knew that every word of the woman in front of him was full of hidden meaning.

In addition to the howling cold wind, there was an indescribable sense of tension and heaviness in the air. (End of this chapter)