The night was dark and stormy, the rain cascading down like steel rods hammering the earth. It clattered against the roofs and stones, merged with the furious sea, and roared alongside the rolling thunder. The storm painted the scene with chaos, a perfect backdrop to the tragedy unfolding in a small Dryad village near the border of the werewolf territory.
In this quiet, unassuming village, a legacy was guarded: a divine child, whose protection was the solemn duty of the Dryads. But peace shattered as a pack of werewolves descended without warning, their howls blending with the storm's rage.
The Dryads scrambled to defend their home, their vines shooting from the ground like living weapons. The enchanted foliage pierced the wolves' hearts, felling several in their tracks. For a moment, hope glimmered as a magical barrier rose to encircle the village.
But the werewolves grew more frenzied, their attacks more feral, pounding against the shimmering shield. Then, without warning, the barrier vanished, as if erased by some unseen hand. Confusion rippled through the villagers. Their defenses had been compromised, their protection undone.
Panic spread like wildfire. The Dryads and Druids, disorganized and overwhelmed, stood no chance. The werewolves lunged with merciless precision, their fangs and claws tearing through flesh. Screams pierced the air, only to be drowned out by the storm.
"Kill them all! Let no one escape!" bellowed a gruff voice. The command came from a man with a thick beard and an ugly scar slashing from his eyebrow to his cheek. His blade dripped crimson, its sharp edge reflecting the firelight that consumed the village.
Amidst the slaughter, a lone figure sat atop a black horse, shrouded in a dark hood. His posture was regal, his presence commanding. His eyes, dark as the abyss, watched the carnage below with a devilish smirk. Beside him, another hooded man on a brown horse shifted uneasily. His long blonde hair clung to his face, soaked by the relentless rain.
"Are we really going to let them kill them all?" the blonde man asked, his voice uneasy.
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"Yes," came the cold reply. The dark figure's tone held no sympathy, only finality.
Down below, chaos continued. A Druid with short dark blonde hair stood defiantly, his injuries severe, his breaths labored. Yet he held his ground, clutching his weapon with trembling hands. He knew he had to buy time for the others to escape. His eyes darted to the burning homes and the bodies of his fallen comrades. He prayed for a miracle, but none came.
The werewolves broke through the final line of defense. The village burned in fury, flames raging so fiercely that even the storm seemed powerless to quench them. The sky turned red with smoke and ash. Villagers ran aimlessly, their bodies ablaze, their screams swallowed by the storm's wrath.
"Mother, don't send me away! I can't live without you!" a little girl cried, clutching her mother's hand. Her sobs were drowned by the roaring inferno.
"You must go, my child,” her mother said, her voice trembling. Tears streamed down her face. "You must stay alive. This is the only way."
The mother knelt, placing a delicate red pendant with an oval-shaped stone around her daughter's neck. "Promise me," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"Promise me you will never take this off."
The child nodded through her tears. "I promise, Mother”
With a final embrace, the mother pushed her daughter toward a swirling white portal. "Farewell, my child. Mother loves you," she whispered, her voice shattering as the portal began to close.
"No, Mother!" the girl screamed, trying to claw her way back. But her cries turned into a horrified wail as she saw a massive black werewolf clamp its jaws around her mother's neck. Blood sprayed through the air as the mother's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
The werewolf's piercing gray eyes locked onto the girl, and it began to advance. The portal shimmered and closed just as a brilliant white flash lit up the scene, silencing the chaos in an instant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"NO!"
The scream tore from Calista's throat as she bolted upright in bed. Her chest heaved, her heart pounding like a war drum. The room was dark, but her skin glistened with cold sweat, and her bedsheets clung to her trembling frame.
Her hand flew to her chest, clutching at the ache that felt as though a thousand needles had pierced her heart. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath.
It's just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream. But was it? The pain she felt in her chest, the despair that gripped her, felt far too real.
The nightmare had returned. It was always the same-blurred images, disjointed memories, and a searing pain that lingered long after she woke. Each night it felt closer, more vivid, yet she could never piece it together. Why did it haunt her so? Why did it leave her with such unbearable sorrow?
She wiped her tears with trembling hands, trying to calm herself, but the ache remained. It was as though her heart mourned something precious, something lost. But she couldn't remember what.
Calista's gaze fell to the faint glow of the pendant resting against her chest. The red stone seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive. Her fingers curled around it protectively. What are you? Why do you feel so familiar, yet so distant?
She stared into the darkness, her thoughts swirling. The dream never revealed its full truth, but each time it left her feeling emptier, lonelier. Who am I mourning? What am I forgetting?
Calista pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against them. She wanted answers, but the silence of the room offered none.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled faintly.