The scouts from the three kingdoms had scoured every inch of the forest, or what was left of it. Charred trees, scorched earth, and lingering ash painted a grim picture of the devastation. Yet despite their efforts, they couldn’t find the source of the fire. Worse, they found no survivors—no creatures, no signs of life, nothing to explain the golden flames that had consumed the Dark Forest of Tivera.
The silence in the forest had been unnatural, oppressive. Even the crackle of embers had felt muted, as if the land itself were holding its breath. The forest wasn’t just destroyed—it was erased, leaving behind an emptiness that none of the scouts could explain.
They returned to their respective kingdoms, their reports heavy with uncertainty and frustration.
In Draconia
The lead scout, Havel, knelt before King Draxon in the vast throne room of Draconia. His golden armor, tarnished with soot, glinted faintly in the dim torchlight. Despite his experience, his hands trembled slightly as he recounted what he had seen.
“Your Majesty,” Havel began, his voice steady but strained, “we searched every corner of the forest. There are no survivors, no creatures, and no signs of the fire’s origin. The land is barren—lifeless.”
King Draxon leaned forward in his throne, his sharp eyes narrowing. “No trace? That fire was no accident. Its intensity was unnatural. Was it magic?”
Havel hesitated, his brow furrowing as he chose his words carefully. “Possibly, my king. But if it was magic, it was beyond anything we’ve ever encountered. The flames didn’t spread beyond the forest’s edge, as if they were… controlled.”
The king’s gauntleted hand gripped the armrest tightly, his claws digging into the metal. “Controlled? By whom?”
Havel hesitated again, lowering his gaze. “We don’t know, Your Majesty. But whatever it was, it wasn’t mortal.”
Draxon’s voice turned cold, a low growl echoing through the chamber. “If this was the work of a god—or a rogue mage—I want their name. Double the patrols near the border. Question every traveler who dares cross into our lands. We cannot afford ignorance.”
Havel bowed deeply, his voice firm despite the unease in his chest. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
In Alinthor, the Kingdom of the Elves
The Moonlit Grove was unusually dim, the silver glow of its ancient trees dulled as if mourning the loss of their neighboring forest. The elven council of elders stood in a circle, their faces etched with worry as Sylvari, the lead scout, delivered her report.
“We found nothing, my lords,” Eryndra said, her voice heavy with regret. “The forest is gone. No creatures remain, no survivors. Not even residual magic lingers.”
The youngest elder, his silver hair gleaming in the moonlight, stepped forward, his voice sharp. “That’s impossible! The Dark Forest of Tivera has stood for millennia, untouchable by mortal hands. What could destroy it so completely?”
Eryndra’s hands tightened at her sides. “I don’t know, Elder Cael. But the fire didn’t spread beyond the forest’s edge. The nearby village remains untouched.”
Cael frowned deeply, his gaze piercing. “And you think that was intentional?”
The High Elder, Renar, spoke then, his calm voice cutting through the rising tension. “If the fire was contained so precisely, then it wasn’t an accident. Either the gods themselves intervened, or something far more dangerous is at play.”
The council fell silent, their thoughts heavy with the implications. Finally, Renar spoke again. “Send word to Sintara. If this fire was the result of magic, their archives may hold answers. In the meantime, our borders must be fortified. We cannot risk this force reaching our lands.”
In Sintara, the Central Kingdom
The Hall of Aegis buzzed with restless energy. The grand council had convened, filling the vast chamber with knights, scholars, and mages.
Varek Talos, the Sintarian hunter whose expertise in arcane traps and precision tracking was unmatched, stood before king Leonard, his soot-covered cloak a stark contrast to the pristine white of the hall.
“Your Majesty,” Varek began, his voice steady but solemn, “we found no survivors, no creatures, and no explanation for the fire. The forest is lifeless, and no magical signatures remain.”
The king’s sharp eyes narrowed. “No magical signatures? That fire glowed like the sun itself. You expect me to believe magic wasn’t involved?”
“Not ordinary magic,” Varek clarified. “If it was magic, it was ancient—far older than anything recorded in our archives. The precision of the flames was… intentional. They consumed the forest entirely but didn’t touch the village.”
A mage in crimson robes stepped forward, his voice low and measured. “Such precision suggests intent. If the village was spared, then someone—likely the caster—chose to protect it.”
King Leonard’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Why would someone go to such lengths? Was it a warning? A test of their power?”
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“We cannot say, Your Majesty,” Varek admitted. “But if someone has mastered magic of this scale, they pose a threat to us all.”
The king’s voice hardened. “Send envoys to Draconia and Alinthor. This is no time for kingdoms to act alone. If this was the work of a god—or worse—we must prepare for the consequences together.”
Despite their differences, all three kingdoms reached the same conclusion: the fire was no accident. Its precision was too calculated, the village’s survival too deliberate. Someone or something had ensured the flames didn’t spread, and the fear of divine wrath—or worse—hung heavily in the air.
But there was something else no one dared to speak aloud, a suspicion festering in the hearts of many: could one of the kingdoms be responsible? Whispers of sabotage and betrayal began to circulate in hushed tones. Alliances were fragile, and the fire’s mystery could easily become the spark that ignited a larger conflict.
As scouts prepared for their next assignments and envoys set out to foster collaboration—or perhaps to spy—each kingdom braced for what lay ahead. Leaders strategized, mages combed their archives, and soldiers sharpened their blades.
Yet even as they prepared, the forest’s silence lingered like a haunting melody, a reminder that some mysteries are not meant to be uncovered.
And somewhere beyond the ashes, a force stirred, watching and waiting.
————————————————
Nyx’s journey to the village was nearing its end, and the closer she got, the more her nerves began to twist in knots. The towering trees that once surrounded her were thinning, revealing glimpses of open sky and faint outlines of rooftops in the distance. It would be her first time interacting with humans beyond Till, and the thought filled her with a mix of excitement and dread.
Her pace slowed as a flood of questions swirled in her mind, each one more overwhelming than the last.
What should I tell them? What if I say the wrong thing? Will they even understand me?
Her hand reached up to adjust the Darkveil covering her eyes, her fingers brushing against its soft fabric. Will they think I’m strange because of this? Will they… reject me?
A warm, familiar voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, soothing her nerves.
“Why are you worrying, little cub? If it’s you, they will be happy to meet you.”
Tiger’s words echoed in her mind, his tone filled with gentle amusement.
Nyx couldn’t help but smile, a small, fleeting gesture that eased some of the weight pressing on her chest. “Yeah, you’re right,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I should just be myself.”
But before she could take another step, a deeper, more commanding voice surfaced in her memory—Drac’s warning, sharp and unwavering.
“Remember that you are special, Nyx. Not everyone has the opportunity to live with constellations. When you visit the outside world, don’t tell anyone about your life.”
The weight of his words settled heavily over her, a reminder of the responsibility she now carried. She clenched her fists, her resolve hardening as she whispered, “Yes, and that too.”
Nyx straightened her back, taking a steadying breath. She would take their words to heart—Tiger’s encouragement and Drac’s caution. Even if she didn’t know what lay ahead, she would face it with the strength they had instilled in her.
As Nyx continued to trudged forward, the soft crunch of leaves beneath her feet provided a rhythm to her thoughts. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs aching with exhaustion, and the weight of her unanswered questions pressing on her like a leaden cloak.
“Uriel,” she said hesitantly, her voice breaking the stillness, “can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Nyx,” Uriel replied, its calm and steady tone grounding her in the vast, silent wilderness.
She hesitated, her fingers brushing absently against the veil covering her eyes. “The fire from the forest… Do you know what caused it?”
There was a brief pause, long enough for her anxiety to spike, before Uriel answered. “Unfortunately, I am unable to determine the exact cause at this time. However, if you wish, I can initiate an investigation. It may take time to gather sufficient data.”
Nyx exhaled, her shoulders sagging as the tension in her chest eased slightly. “Oh… okay. If you can do that, then yes. Thank you.”
“Permission granted. Investigation will begin immediately.”
She nodded, her thoughts swirling like the embers that still haunted her memories. The fire—its golden light so bright it burned her mind’s eye—felt closer now, the questions surrounding it more urgent.
“And another thing,” she said, stopping in her tracks. Her breath hitched as the next question fought its way out. “The fire—how did it die out? And who caused it to stop?”
Uriel’s answer came swiftly, yet its words sent a shiver down her spine. “Nyx, you were the one who extinguished the fire.”
Her breath caught. “What?” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
“Based on my analysis,” Uriel continued, “the divine fire was likely tied to a deity or sacred source, making it resistant to ordinary magic. However, you harmonized with its energy and disrupted its frequency, neutralizing its destructive force with your affinity to magic.”
Nyx staggered back a step, her mind reeling. “Harmonize with it? I don’t understand. How could I…?”
“You also utilized your magical artifact, the Stormweaver Veil,” Uriel explained, its tone patient and deliberate. “The veil absorbs divine energy. Upon contact, it disrupted and neutralized the fire’s power. This is why your veil remains intact despite the intensity of the flames.”
Nyx’s hand instinctively reached up to touch the veil’s soft fabric. The memory of the fire’s heat flashed through her mind, and she shivered. “I… I did that?”
“Yes,” Uriel confirmed. “However, fragments of the divine fire’s energy have been absorbed into your magical essence.”
Her heart raced. “What do you mean, ‘absorbed’?”
“The remnants of the fire now reside within you,” Uriel explained, its tone clinical but reassuring. “They are contained and pose no immediate threat. On the contrary, they have amplified your magical potential.”
Nyx clenched her fists, struggling to reconcile the enormity of Uriel’s words. “I didn’t even know I could do something like that,” she murmured, her voice tight with a mix of awe and fear.
Uriel’s tone softened, a subtle but notable shift. “Your evolution and the circumstances surrounding it are unprecedented. As we continue forward, I will assist you in understanding your new abilities. You are not alone in this.”
Her hand dropped from the veil as she took a shaky breath. The idea of carrying a piece of that destructive power within her was daunting, but Uriel’s words brought a small measure of comfort.
“Alright,” she said finally, her voice steadier now. “Keep me updated on that investigation, and let me know if anything changes.”
“Of course, Nyx,” Uriel replied, a faint note of reassurance lingering in its tone.
She resumed walking, her pace more deliberate, though her legs felt like lead beneath her. The fire, the veil, the fragments of divine energy—it all swirled in her mind, an unrelenting storm of questions. Yet amidst the chaos, one thought emerged:
“I have to figure this out,” she whispered to herself, her hands clenched into fists. “One step at a time.”
Her path remained uncertain, but as she pressed on, determination replaced doubt. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it with the strength she didn’t yet realize she possessed.