The air in the grove was still, save for the gentle rustling of the trees. As Lina clutched the staff of Elagris, her heart still racing from the trials she had faced, the soft crunch of footsteps drew the group’s attention.
The old man had returned.
He hobbled slowly into view, leaning heavily on a gnarled walking stick. Though his clouded eyes betrayed his blindness, they seemed to focus on each of them in turn, and his warm smile conveyed a deep understanding.
“Well done, child,” he said to Lina, his voice low and gravelly. “You have passed the trials, just as she once did. Perhaps... perhaps the earth has not given up hope after all.”
Before anyone could respond, the old man raised his hand, signaling silence. He turned and slowly sat at the base of the statue once more, resting his hands on his knees.
“You wish to understand more of this place,” he began, his voice carrying an almost musical rhythm. “Then let me tell you another tale. It is the story of the years after Almira tamed the mountain.”
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THE TALE OF ALMIRA AND CORVA
“Many years passed,” the old man said, “with the volcano no longer a threat to their valley. Almira grew in her power, becoming one with her element in ways no Guardian before her had achieved. She learned to channel the fire not only to protect but to nurture. The forges blazed day and night, and the people of Kali’dar prospered.”
His voice softened. “But even amidst her duties, she found time for love. Tokan was his name—a healer who had tended her wounds after her battle with the mountain. He was kind and patient, and it wasn’t long before their bond grew into something unshakable.
“When they wed, the valley celebrated for three days and nights. It was a union not only of two souls but of the people who saw in them the strength to endure anything.”
The old man’s smile faded, and his tone grew somber. “But as it always seems, peace was fleeting. A terrible drought befell the valley not long after their union. The rivers ran dry, the crops withered, and the people began to despair. No prayers, no rituals, and no amount of effort could coax water back into the land.”
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He paused, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped his stick. “Then, one day, a stranger came to Kali’dar. She was tall and stern, with eyes like storm clouds. Her name was Corva, and she claimed she could bring the waters back. The people were wary, but Almira... Almira saw something in her. Perhaps it was the way Corva carried herself, or perhaps it was the faint glimmer of elemental power in her presence. Whatever it was, Almira trusted her.
“Together, the two ventured into the mountains, seeking the source of the drought. They were gone for five days.”
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A HAUNTED RETURN
The old man’s voice grew quieter, as if recalling the memory caused him pain.
“Tokan, Almira’s mate and soul partner, was beside himself with worry. He was ready to take up arms and search for her himself, convinced that the stranger had led her to danger. But just as he prepared to leave, Almira and Corva returned.”
The group leaned forward, hanging on every word.
“Almira still carried the blade she had taken from the volcano, but it bore new scars, as if it had clashed with another weapon. Corva, too, carried something—a long staff of dark wood, with a sharp, curved blade at one end. The villagers noticed immediately that both women seemed... changed. Their faces were pale, their eyes haunted.
“Neither spoke of what they had faced in the mountains. But that very night, the rivers began to flow once more. Rain fell upon the valley, soaking the dry earth and filling the people with hope. Crops sprang to life, and the valley thrived again.”
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A LASTING BOND
The old man looked up at the statue, his expression wistful. “From that day on, Corva remained in Kali’dar. She and Almira were inseparable, their bond forged in whatever trials they had endured together. Tokan, for all his love and devotion, accepted this new presence in his wife’s life, though it must have pained him to do so.”
He sighed heavily. “Almira’s legacy was one of sacrifice and strength, but also of mystery. Her victories came at great cost, not only to herself but to those she held dear. And though she and Corva saved the valley from ruin, the scars of their battles lingered, etched into the land and into their souls.”
The grove fell silent, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves.
The old man bowed his head. “Remember this, children of the elements: power and leadership come at a price. It is up to you to decide if the cost is worth it.”
With that, he closed his eyes, his body seeming to fade into stillness. The group exchanged glances, their minds heavy with the weight of his words.
In the distance, the sound of a flowing stream reached their ears—a gentle reminder of the legacy Almira and Corva had left behind.