Vaelen Thalorian was the man I had been searching for—his messy gray hair, bulky frame, one gold eye, and one purple eye, with a prominent scar running across his cheekbone. The streets of Glintstone were alive with activity, the narrow walkways full with people and the earthy wind rustling through my hair. Among the bustling crowd, there he was, looking out of place and miserable as he stood outside a flower shop. The pungent floral scent contrasted sharply with his hardened demeanor. His posture was slumped, and his gaze was lost in the vibrant chaos around him.

Look who we have here. "Hm, are you Mr. Thalorian? I—"

Before I could finish, he placed his hand over my mouth, pulling me closer. "Don't speak another word," he commanded, his voice deep and raspy. In an instant, the crowded streets faded to black, and we were no longer in the bustling city but in a dimly lit, bricked room. I wondered what was happening, though my face remained expressionless.

As the world around us blurred and shifted, I found myself standing in the same place, but the scenery had changed dramatically. The busy streets of Glintstone were gone, replaced by the strange and mesmerizing landscape of a forest in the Feywild. The air was fresh, the vibrant colors of the flora glowing faintly in the twilight. The ground beneath my feet was soft, almost spongy, and the trees around us loomed tall.

Vaelen’s hand remained over my mouth as he pulled us into the shadows of a massive tree, its bark covered in moss that pulsed with a faint light. His gaze darted around, his eyes sharp and calculating as if expecting something—or someone—to emerge from the depths of the forest.

He finally released me, stepping back, his posture tense. "This isn't what you were expecting, is it?" he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice. The rough, commanding tone from before had softened slightly, though it still held an edge.

I straightened, wiping the faint trace of his touch from my face. "Not exactly," I replied coolly, though my curiosity was piqued. The Feywild was notorious for its unpredictability, and I wasn't about to let my guard down. "But I’m adaptable."

"Good." Vaelen’s eyes gleamed, a flicker of approval passing over his features. "You’ll need that if you’re going to survive here." He glanced deeper into the forest, his expression tightening. "Follow me. We need to keep moving."

Without another word, he began to move swiftly through the forest. I followed, my senses on high alert as the sounds of the forest filled the air—distant whispers, the rustling of leaves, and the occasional howl that sent goosebumps down my spine.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

As we ventured further, the landscape grew even stranger. The trees seemed to shift and move as we passed, their branches twisting in ways that defied logic. The air was thick with the scent of unfamiliar flowers, their petals glowing softly in the dim light. Despite the beauty of the Feywild, there was an underlying sense of danger—a feeling that we were being watched.

We arrived at a clearing bathed in the soft light of a glowing moon. In the center stood a small, ancient structure, its stone walls covered in intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with magic. Vaelen approached the structure, knocking three times on the stone door. The sound echoed in the stillness.

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a figure cloaked in shadows, their form barely visible in the faint light.

"She’s here," Vaelen said, his tone respectful but firm. The figure nodded, stepping aside to let us in.

Inside, the air was filled with the scent of burning herbs, the dim light casting shadows on the walls. The room was filled with strange artifacts—bones, dried plants, and what looked like old tomes stacked on wooden shelves. In the center of the room stood a tall woman with pale skin. Her long, silky hair tinged with red, and dark, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me.

"So, this is the one," she murmured, her voice soft but commanding. She walked around me, her gaze appraising. "You’ve done well, Vaelen. She’ll do just fine."

Vaelen gave a small bow, then looked at me. "This is Morwenna. She’ll guide you on your next step. Listen to her, and you might make it out alive."

I turned my attention to Morwenna, remaining unphased by her gaze. "What is it you need me to do?" I asked, my tone calm and indifferent.

Morwenna smiled, "We need you to retrieve something for us from deeper within the Feywild. But first, you must prove yourself. There’s a creature that has been eluding us—a guardian of this realm. Bring it to me, alive, and I will provide the information you seek."

The challenge was clear, and the stakes were high. But I had never been one to back down. "Consider it done," I said, my voice steady and resolute.

Morwenna nodded, pleased with my response. "Good. Then let us begin."

Valen stands before me"Before you proceed," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "take this." He extended his hand, revealing a small, smooth stone that glowed with a faint, ethereal light. The gem seemed almost to hum with latent magic.

I took the stone from his hand, feeling its cool surface against my fingers. "What is this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I examined the gem.

"It’s a teleportation stone," Vaelen explained. "It will allow you to return to this hideout. Use it wisely. It will only work once, so make sure you’re ready before you activate it."

I nodded in acknowledgment as Vaelen placed his hands on my shoulders. In an instant, the world shifted around me, and I found myself standing once again outside the flower shop, the familiar scene before me.