A weak, staccato and slightly stammering voice came from his ear, "Please, come down and ...... and let me go...... Get down. ”

Il, in the bushes, found a dimly lit place and gently placed the elf on a large patch of soft moss. "I will speak your language," he said in Elven, "I am from Asenrant, called Ilminster, and am on my way to Comandor City. ”

The green eyes were full of surprise again, "My people will kill you," the elven mage replied, his voice even weaker. "You have only one way, and that is ......"

The voice was almost faint, and Ilr quickly reached for the wound on the elf's neck and recited his only recovery spell.

The elf smiled weakly, "The pain has eased a lot, thank you." He pulled himself together a little, "But...... I'm dying. My name is Imubar Alasetrai, and I am ......" His eyes darkened, and he grabbed Il's arm hard.

Eir bent down, trying to do more healing, but it was useless, and he could only watch as the slender fingers gripped his arm and slowly reached his shoulder like a spider, and finally, touched his cheek slightly.

An image popped into Il's mind. He saw himself kneeling in the shade of the tree, right here, but there was no dying Yimubar in front of him, only dust on his eyes. In the dust, a black jewel shimmered. In this image, Il picks up the gem and touches his forehead with it.

The image quickly faded away, and Eir lowered his head and looked at Yimubar's pale, broken face, his lips trembling and turning purple. His hand fell from Il, shaking like a withered leaf, "Do you see that?" The elf asked, gasping.

To help him calm his mind, Ilr nodded. The elven mage also nodded at him and whispered, "In your honor, Ilminster of Asenrant, don't let me down." Suddenly, his body spasmed, like a dried leaf in the wind. After a while, Yimubar exclaimed, "Ah! Ayakuay Laren! His eyes could no longer see the humans around him, "My love, I can finally be with you!" Aya, Ya, Ya......"

His voice dragged out and waned, like the echo of a flute. The long limbs trembled again, and then, no longer moving.

Ilr leaned closer, but withdrew his hand in horror. The corpse in his hand let out a strange sigh, and instantly turned into a puff of dust and scattered in all directions. And in the dust, lies a black gem. It's the same as in the image.

Il looked down for a long time, not knowing what kind of thing he had been involved in this time. He raised his head and looked at the bushes around him, there were no monsters, no eyes of the watchers, he was alone.

Eir sighed, shrugged, and picked up the gem.

The gem was warm, smooth and pleasant to the touch, and seemed to be emitting a faint sound that sounded like the echo of the strings of a harp. He held up the gem and looked inside, but saw nothing.

Ilr pressed it to his forehead.

The world unfolded before him was a chaotic one, mixed with sounds, breaths, and sensations.

Ilr saw himself and a noble lady sitting under a gazebo and laughing; Then he became the same lady, or another, dancing around the flames of the jewels. Then he put on his armor and rode a centaur under his crotch, rushed down the bushes, and fought a howling orc crossbowman with a spear in hand...... Its blood filled Il's vision, but suddenly it turned into a rosy dawn at dawn, shining on a proud and beautiful castle with a high spire...... Then he heard himself speak hypocritical words in the voice of an old elf, kneeling in the courtroom, before a female warrior in a shining armor. He heard himself issue a decree declaring war on humanity and destroying it...... Oh! Mistra! Help me! What the hell is all this!

His desperate cries summoned back Ilminster, the Ilminster of Asenrant, the chosen one of the goddess of magic, Mistra, who had only experienced a storm of reflections. They are, memories, memories of the family of Arose Teralai. This surname has roughly pulled Yir into thousands of years ago, those vents, those family proverbs, and the land he loves. Hundreds of beautiful faces of the elven lady, mothers, sisters, daughters, all members of the family of Aracerai, smiled at him, cried at him, shouted at him, and their dark blue eyes all came out, like puddles of deep blue water. Ilminster swept through the names, the dates, and the countless drawn swords, glittering, whipping his head like a whip.

Why, why? He cried out loudly, his voice echoing through the chaos until it sounded like a great wave crashing against the rocks of the shore, and the spray was torn apart by the rocks. The face of the disappeared Yimubar appeared, and he looked at Il, a beautiful elven lady leaning on his shoulder.

"Remember your duty to me," said Imabel, "and this gem is a token of the Aracerai, and contains the wisdom and knowledge of the family over the years, which have been in the hands of the descendants of this family. I used to be the heir of this family, and now, in my blood, his name is Ocellas, and he is in Comandor, and you are to bring this gem to him. ”

"Bring this gem to ......," yelled Il, while the heads of the two elves smiled at him together and said in unison, "Bring this gem to him." ”

Yimubar continued, "Ilminster from Asenrant, let me introduce you to this lady, her name is Ayaquilaren, she is ......."

What he said later, gradually inaudible, his and her faces, washed back by another wave of surging memories, love, war, the continent covered with forests. Il struggled to remember who he was, trying to remember how he knelt in the shade of a tree, he wanted the here and now! Slowly, he felt the solid ground beneath his knees.

Il slammed his palm on the ground, wondering if there would be pain in his hand. But his mind was still full of shouts from different places and places, all kinds of shouts, dancing unicorns, twinkling war horns in the moonlight. He stood up, frantically waving his hands, and ran around until he crashed into a tree trunk.

He clung to the thick trunk of the tree, trying to see it clearly, but the trunk, the trunk, and all the trunks around it, were all towering into the sky, and darkness surrounded it, and it did not feel like the trunk itself. Il's eyes widened as he looked at them, trying to speak, only to find himself in front of him, screaming as he was confronted by Yimubar, impaled through his body by a black iron fork. Then, Il felt himself transform into Yimubar again, and blood-red pain flowed through his body, and Lukka screamed around him, raising his sword and slashing at him with all his might......

Everything was gone, and he staggered to dodge, but was hit hard by something, and he almost lost consciousness. Il stumbled at the thing, dimly realizing that he was lying on the ground, close to the roots, though he hadn't yet seen how dirty his face was.

His mind was once again in his mind with Yimubar, a young handsome but arrogant elf. In one room, filled with a blue web of magical light and emitting beautiful music, the elf, dressed in ornate robes, stood up from a chair suspended in the air in the shape of teardrops. The elf smiled and greeted Yimubar. Someone in Il's head called the elf's name: Ocellus. Yes, Osellas, of course. Ilr must go to Ocellus and give him the gem again.

Does he have to go alone? Or even take your own life for this? And if he continued to wear this gem himself, would someone rip his head, break his bones, and shatter his flesh?

Il rolled in the dirt, trying to remove the gem from his forehead, but now it was a part of his body, warm, hard, and sticky.

He had to stagger to his feet, and the monster was about to come looking for him. He must move on, or he will turn into a delicious dinner for tree spiders, bears, and vampire night owls...... No...... He had to ...... Il's grasp of the ground weakly, using his brain to recall the name of the goddess he was about to call for help. But now he has only one name in his mind: Yimubar.

Yimubar Aracelale. So who are you? You are Yimubar Alasetrai. Heir to the bloodline, Mage of Jewels, and leader of the Raven Patrol, this stretch of Fern Creek looks like a great place to camp......

Ilr screamed, screamed, but couldn't hear anything in his head. He had nothing left in his head - nothing but the thousands of Arassetralais.

...