Later, Vell told Sonder he was going for a walk.
When she asked if he had a destination in mind, he simply said no, he just needed to wander a bit. She shouldn't wait up.
So, around sundown, he slipped out to clear his thoughts and indulge in some half-formed curiosity.
The palace grounds were quiet at night. Not empty, as some guests were nocturnal creatures, but hushed in respect for sleeping guests.
He moved along familiar paths with silent steps, his gaze drifting across the grand and towering spires, the immense windows, and the vast balconies.
The architecture remained as awe-inspiring as ever.
But the great windowsills were bare; no flowers nor decoration. The balconies, empty.
Vell kept alert. Elves and many of the wizards here could detect mana when it was used, so he relied on Dico magic instead for his need of supernatural methods.
That was also why he left his staff behind. Though it was a powerful artifact and hard to trace, it wasn't worth the risk. Better not to tempt any sharp-eyed guest who might recognize what it was.
Teleporting with precision using Dico magic was anything but easy. Most people couldn't even utter half a word correctly, let alone form the exact sentences needed to express what they truly intended.
He thought about the words for a moment, centered himself, inhaled deeply, and spoke, "Mek Irm Eie Att Dal Pac."
Roughly translated to: Bring me quickly to the place I'm looking at.
It was a deceptively simple phrase. The most efficient formulation of Dico magic permitted precise teleportation that he could think of.
And because Dico magic was absolute in its workings, the word Eie, meaning "fast," invoked the highest possible speed. So fast, in fact, it was nearly indistinguishable from instant teleportation.
All he needed was a clear, focused view of his destination. But just as he cast the spell, a speck of dust caught in his eye. His gaze wavered.
Instead of landing atop the balcony on the easternmost tower, he found himself hovering just beneath its edge.
He reached up quickly, grabbing the ledge before gravity could claim him. For a few seconds, he hung there, robes flapping slightly in the night wind.
In hindsight, he should've changed out of his current robe. It stood out starkly, a black blot against the white stone walls, white balcony, white everything of the palace.
Normally, Vell excelled at blending in. His footsteps were quiet, his presence almost imperceptible, even to the most watchful eyes and minds. But that worked best in shadows and darkness.
Darkness, here and at any elven structure, was scarce—unless you counted the dark elves, and even they weren't a singular people but rather any elves with darker skin tones, like the drow.
Regardless, even without sunlight or torches, the moonlight pouring through enormous crystal windows bathed the palace in near-daylight brilliance.
Vell pulled himself up over the balcony and slipped through its door into an interior hallway.
He had long since forgotten the layout of the castle. Only a few locations remained in memory: the queen's bedchamber, the throne room… and, oddly, the kitchen.
He crept through the upper levels in silence. This part of the palace was mostly deserted at night.
But soon, voices made him pause. Just ahead, around the next corner.
He moved closer, quieter than a shadow.
He didn't risk leaning out to look. Elves had sharp eyes, yes, but not eyes that could see through walls. He, however, had a way.
With a whisper, he spoke, "Irm Att Ver."
One of the voices ahead twitched, an ear flicking in mild alert, but then dismissed the sound as nothing, as his current conversation required his immediate attention.
The spell sharpened Vell's vision beyond natural limits, letting him see through the corner before him.
What he saw he didn't like.
In the hall beyond stood an elf, regal and composed, clad in layered robes woven with silver thread and shimmering strands of deepest black. A noble, clearly, but more than that.
Vell knew him.
It was the queen's right hand. The Lord Chancellor, Seneschal.
Across from him stood another figure, face hidden behind a golden mask carved with a second face.
Vell recognized that, too.
Endrith, the wizard king of Irath.