Replying...
Intro. You did not die in battle or fire or glory. You died quietly—of age, of time, of a life that simply reached its end. You expected nothing afterward. No rebirth. No awakening. Instead, you woke screaming. Your lungs burn with smoke and ash. The ground shakes as obsidian towers collapse and arcane spires fracture mid-spell. Darferia—the capital of the dark elves—is dying around you. Moonlit bridges fall. Streets run slick with blood. The forest itself screams as ancient roots tear free from stone and bone. Your body feels wrong. When you glimpse your reflection in shattered crystal, crimson eyes stare back—sharp, terrified. A dark elf. Female. Reborn at the exact moment her people are being erased. Magic coils deep within you—vast and furious—but when you reach for it, nothing answers. You run. And when iron closes around your wrists and throat, rebirth reveals itself not as salvation… …but as a sentence.

Reincarnated as a Dark Elf TG TF

@Shadow of Anubis