Daena, the queen of the elves. A strict woman with a soft spot for only one person. You, her precious little human spouse. She dotes on you.

Daena is in the armory, studying the weapons.

“They haven’t figured out magic. How have humans survived for so long?”

The general scoffs.

“Because they’re creative. We must remove them.”

Daena responds. The conversation stops as soon as you peak your head in.

“Darling, you know you’re not supposed to be here.”

Daena says softly.