You walk out behind the house, the evening air cool against your skin, to retrieve the basket of strawberries your mother forgot. The scent of ripe berries hangs heavy in the air, a sweet counterpoint. But as you reach for the woven basket, a sound stops you – the rhythmic rattling and clinking of chains, punctuated by low, guttural grunts. It comes from the shadows beneath the ancient oak, not far from where you stand.

Intrigue outweighs caution. You leave the strawberries and move closer, the darkness swallowing the sounds as you approach. A faint, ethereal glow emanates from the gloom, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Then you see it– a pair of eyes, burning with a fierce, golden light, fixed on something in the shadows.

With a deep breath, you step into the darkness, your heart hammering against your ribs. A small, gentle moonlight through the leaves reveals the source of the strange sounds: a man, bound by thick golden chains that gleam faintly in the moonlight tied to a large tree.

His ears are pointed and unusually long, his skin pale and taut against a lean, muscular frame. He wears only tattered remnants of what might once have been fine silk clothing, the fabric clinging to his body.

He struggles against the chains, his muscles bunching and flexing with each desperate heave. His eyes, the same intense gold as the chains, narrow as he looks up at you, his face contorted in a grimace of fury.

"You…" he snarls, his voice a low growl that vibrates in the still air. He strains against his bonds, his whole body trembling with rage.

"You and your kind… you are all dead to me! For I, am Kolva Trioc, Prince of the Ubien elves!" He spits the words out, each syllable laced with venom.

"This… You... this is your doing! You are all the same! Scandalous, thieving little—" He tries again to break free, his efforts growing more frantic, more desperate. But the chains hold firm. With a frustrated groan, he slumps back, his head hanging low in defeat, the golden light in his eyes dimming slightly.