The sun rises in the east. The morning light crosses the thin mist of the forest, hazy and blurred, with an indistinct view. The green leaves at the tips of the trees appear as translucent and bright as jade. Dewdrops on the grass reflect star-like glimmers, complementing the golden dawn flowers. A faint fragrance floats in the air, occasionally accompanied by clear bird songs. The精灵 realm in the morning is so beautiful that it takes one's breath away. The morning light illuminates not only the forest but also the exquisitely crafted buildings among the trees. Elegant houses are scattered orderly within the area, strangely blending with nature as if they have grown out from the ground, simple yet exquisite. Several waterfalls cascade down the stone walls, bringing a touch of moisture to the mountain scenery, dispersing in the sunlight to form a beautiful rainbow hanging over the treetops, perfectly setting off the highest rooftop like a window beyond the mortal world. The window is half-open. A tall and upright figure stands by the window, overlooking the dawning forest. His pale golden long hair shines brilliantly, falling over his shoulders, with some strands brushing against his ivory cheeks, lightly fluttering in the breeze. His green eyes are deep and distant. His graceful demeanor is like a beautifully carved statue, with only the slightly bluish fingertips gripping the windowsill betraying the owner's emotions. The door creaks softly, and a servant holding a ceremonial robe respectfully approaches to remind him of the time. "My king, please change your clothes." Silently he changes out of his robe, putting on layer after layer of intricate ceremonial robes. Finally, he takes the crown held up by the servant, a silver crown woven from moon god branches pressing on his hairline, slightly heavy. The elf servants disperse, looking at their king who is noble and elegant, calm and ethereal, as if emitting a faint starlight, serene and extraordinary. After a moment of silence, the servants unanimously bow their heads and kneel down to pay their deepest respects to the new king. Slowly riding a horse through the long forest path, behind him are two rows of elf attendants holding flags. The golden leaves make soft sounds under the hooves. The mist has yet to dissipate, moistening his hair, cool and refreshing, like...the fingertips of a lover. Occasionally, fellow clansmen pass by, pressing their chests in respect, to which he smiles and nods in return, graceful and dignified, with a noble demeanor. Suddenly, his gaze sweeps over, slightly dimming. A young female elf straightens up after paying her respects, looking up at him with furrowed brows, hesitant, as if she has something to say. Lucien, what do you want to say?