For a nightmare, the dark elf warrior woman standing over him was exotically beautiful. Her smooth face was the color of midnight, delicate features framed by silken braids of white. Large red eyes regarded him with a depth he had not let himself believe they could hold. For a moment, the prince forgot his dire peril. The dark elf seemed to regard him with the same expression, as if seeing a surface elf for the first time. Then her expression hardened.''Know this, surface prince, it does not have to be like this between our peoples. There are many of us who do not want this genocide, but we do not lead.'' Her accent and some of her words were archaic, but her voice was melodious--more so than any elfin singer Cenessan had ever heard.The prince scowled, and pushed the sword at his throat away, ignoring the flare of pain caused by contact with the magically frigid blade. ''What would you have me do, then? We fight for our very survival.''The din of battle seemed to fade back in for the both of them then, shouts from elfin soldiers calling out for the fallen prince, and the woman started backing away. ''You fight the wrong battle, then. You fight a battle you will lose. Find the battle you can win.'' She stooped and snatched up the prince’s sword from where it had fallen, then turned and disappeared into the dusk. Cenessan would later learn that he was the first to ever face the legendary Finerelace in personal combat and survive...This is the first version of Silvantana's oldest sister, Finerelace, done in ink and Crayola markers.