Riven, a scrawny twelve-year-old with a mess of brown hair and eyes the color of storm clouds, sprinted through the emerald fields surrounding his village, Ail’s Hope. The midday sun beat down, turning his sweat into a salty film on his skin. Behind him, his older sister, Elara, chased with practiced ease, her braid whipping in the warm breeze.

"No fair, Elara! You've already had your bonding!" Riven yelled, his voice ragged with exertion.

"Just because you're a scrawny little runt doesn't mean you get a head start," Elara retorted, closing the distance with surprising speed for a girl of fifteen. She lunged, her laughter echoing across the fields as she tackled Riven to the ground.

They grappled playfully, rolling through the tall grass until Elara pinned Riven, her knee digging into his chest playfully. "You're getting slower, little brother," she teased, the pride in her voice unmistakable.

Two Years ago, on her thirteenth birthday, Elara had undergone the Runecraft ceremony, bonding with a fragment of a mythical griffin. The silver streaks lacing her hair and the piercing glint in her eyes were testaments to the power coursing through her veins.

Riven, however, wasn't so blessed – or cursed, depending on who you asked. His thirteenth birthday was a month away, and the looming shadow of the Runecraft ceremony filled him with dread. Stories of excruciating pain, rejection by the mythical fragments, and the potential for uncontrollable power danced in his nightmares. Every time he looked at Elara, a symbol of the Runecraft's success, a knot of anxiety tightened in his gut.

"Hey, cheer up," Elara said, rolling off him. "Who knows? Maybe you'll bond with a playful imp or a mischievous fairy."

Riven scowled. "Not likely. I'll probably get stuck with a grumpy troll or a slow-witted earthworm."

Elara playfully punched his arm. "Don't be such a downer. It'll be an adventure!"

They bickered some more, Riven grumbling about the ceremony, Elara trying to reassure him. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the fields, they turned back towards the village. Elara pointed towards a lone willow tree at the edge of the fields.

"There you go," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Dad said to gather some willow branches for dinner. Don't worry, the wisps won't bother you now that you're almost a man."

Riven's stomach lurched. Willow trees were notoriously haunted by wisps, mischievous spirits of wind and memory. Ever since Elara's bonding, they kept their distance from her, sensing the griffin's power. But Riven, still a mundane human, was prime bait for their pranks.

Hesitantly, Riven approached the willow, its branches swaying like skeletal fingers in the twilight wind. A strange tingling sensation ran down his spine as he got closer. He could almost hear whispers carried on the wind, teasing and taunting, their voices like rustling leaves.

He reached out to a branch, intending to snap it off quickly, but a playful tug sent him sprawling. He scrambled to his feet, glancing around wildly.

"Alright, alright, I get it!" he yelled at the unseen wisps. "Funny, really funny."

Another playful tug, this time at his hair. He swatted at the empty air, frustration bubbling inside him. Suddenly, a low growl erupted from the depths of the forest bordering the field. Elara, who had been watching from afar, froze.

"What was that?" she whispered, reaching for the magical silver dagger strapped to her hip, a gift after her bonding ceremony.

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The growl came again, closer this time, followed by the crashing of undergrowth. Panic surged through Riven. He'd never heard such a sound in the Ail's Hope woods.

"Riven, run!" Elara yelled, her voice strained.

But Riven was rooted to the spot, fear paralyzing him. Then, a hulking beast stepped out of the trees. It was twice the size of a bear, covered in thick, matted fur, and with glowing red eyes that burned in the fading light. Its long, razor-sharp claws scraped against the forest floor as it let out a bone-chilling roar.

Elara let out a scream and charged towards the creature, her griffin power surging through her. Silver light shimmered around her form as she leaped, aiming for the beast's head.

The creature reacted with lightning speed, swatting Elara aside with one massive paw. She flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud.

Riven's scream ripped through the air, echoing through the silent fields. He watched in horror as Elara crumpled to the ground, a motionless heap against the backdrop of the darkening forest. Fear turned to a cold fury in his gut. The beast, its attention momentarily diverted, turned its glowing eyes back towards Riven.

A primal instinct to survive took over. Riven bolted. He sprinted towards the village, his lungs burning, his legs screaming in protest. Every rustle in the undergrowth, every snap of a twig sent shivers down his spine. He could hear the pounding of his own heart drowning out the distant roar of the creature.

Reaching the village gate, he burst through, slamming it shut behind him. He fumbled with the heavy wooden bar, securing it with a trembling hand. The villagers, who had witnessed the commotion from afar, were already hurrying towards the gate, weapons in hand.

"Open the gate! It's a Bloodmaw!" a burly man with a thick beard roared, his face etched with worry.

Riven shook his head frantically, tears stinging his eyes. "Elara… she's…." He couldn't form the words, the image of his sister's still form seared into his mind.

A gasp erupted from the crowd. They had seen Riven approach the gate alone.

"Where's Elara?" a woman's voice trembled. It was their mother, her face pale with dawning horror.

Riven collapsed onto the ground, his voice choked with sobs as he recounted the attack. Fear and despair gripped the village. A Bloodmaw sighting was rare, and their ferocity was legendary to those who were ‘normal’.

Their leader, a grizzled old man named Silas with a single eye and a magical staff crackling with energy, stepped forward. "We need to assess the situation," he said, his voice calm despite the tremor in his hand. "Riven, you stay here with your mother. We'll check on Elara."

A young man with fiery red hair and a mischievous grin nudged Riven. This was Kai, Elara's best friend and fellow Runecrafter. He had bonded with a mischievous fire sprite, granting him a playful demeanor and an uncanny ability to manipulate flames.

"Don't worry, Riven," Kai said, his voice surprisingly steady. "We'll find Elara. Bloodmaws are tough, but not invincible. Besides, you know Elara, stubborn as a mule. She wouldn't go down without a fight."

Riven offered a weak nod, but his heart remained a leaden weight in his chest. Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as they huddled by the gate, the villagers arguing strategy in hushed tones.

Suddenly, Silas returned, his face grim. The villagers fell silent, awaiting the news.

"Elara… she's gone," Silas announced, his voice heavy. "There were signs of struggle, but no body. The Bloodmaw likely dragged her deeper into the woods."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Tears streamed down their mother's face, her sobs echoing through the darkening village. Riven felt a strange numbness creeping over him. Elara, his fearless, playful sister, was gone.

The villagers, led by Silas, began preparing a search party. Weapons were sharpened, torches lit, and magical wards woven. Kai, his usual cheer replaced by a steely determination, volunteered to lead a small group of scouts with his fire magic lighting the way.

Riven watched them go, a sense of helplessness washing over him. He was just a boy, a scrawny, ordinary boy, with no magical abilities or a warrior's strength. He was useless.

Suddenly, a strange tingling sensation erupted in his palm. He looked down to see a faint silver glow emanating from a small, intricate symbol etched onto his skin – the mark signifying the coming of age ceremony. It shouldn't be glowing yet; the ceremony wasn't for another month.

The tingling intensified, accompanied by a low thrumming sound that resonated deep within his skull. He winced, clutching his head as a torrent of images flooded his mind. He saw Elara, battered but alive, trapped within a cavern deep within the forest, the Bloodmaw guarding the entrance. He saw swirling darkness, a chilling presence emanating from within.

The images vanished as abruptly as they came, leaving Riven reeling. Was it a vision? A trick of fear? But the urgency, the raw terror he felt from Elara's side, felt real. This wasn't a dream, it was…