Deep within the heart of the Sylvan Conclave, where time itself seemed to stand still, a faint light flickered across the carved stone walls. Runes older than the oldest elf glowed with a dim, pulsating light, as if breathing in tandem with the earth itself.

The wind hummed eerily as the elders rushed in the darkest hour of the night; an unexpected urgent meeting had been called. Every elder took their designated seat, the weight of the unknown hanging heavy in the air. At last, Orithan entered, her cloak enshrouding her body head to toe. She began chanting in a faint murmur, then lifted her head and hands as she spoke, her cloak glowing above the tiled floor.

"In the shadow of the Nightshade Hollow, where moonlight falters and echoes fade, a curse long bound will stir once more. When the world is veiled in twilight and the forest whispers in dread, the seal of ages shall fracture."

"From the depths of the Nightshade Hollow, where darkness slumbers beneath ancient oaks, a wraith of ancient malice shall awaken. Bound by magic and bound by time, this evil shall break free, and the earth shall tremble."

"Beware the one who stirs the slumbering night, for their touch shall unleash the darkness. The forest’s bane will spread, and shadows will creep across the light.”

"The path is fraught with peril. Heed these words, for the fate of Sylvoria and all that is green rests upon the fragile thread of destiny. The chosen must rise, or the darkness will claim all."

Orithan’s voice trailed off, and the chamber was filled with an uneasy silence. The elders exchanged worried glances—some whispered prayers, others clutched onto charms for protection. No one dared to break the stillness, the weight of the prophecy pressing down on them all.

Orithan lowered her hands, her expression grave. The air felt heavy, charged with the burden of what was to come. She feared the darkness that loomed on the horizon, and though her voice had been strong, her heart trembled with the foreboding of a future none could escape.

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Sylvoria sparkled under the morning sun, its crystalline towers casting rainbows over the emerald gardens that flourished beneath. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming flora, and the soft hum of enchantment filled the bustling streets, where elven citizens moved gracefully, their laughter mingling with the melodious chimes of the city’s magic.

Eldric Greenleaf moved deftly among the towering trees of the city’s central garden, his hands working with a natural grace to tend to the vibrant flora. Each touch of his hand coaxed new life from the earth, and the plants seemed to respond eagerly, their leaves rustling in appreciation. Eldric’s eyes, a deep green reflecting his affinity for the natural world, were focused and serene, his mind at ease amidst the greenery.

As he tended to the flowers, a strange plant caught his eye—one he had never seen before. It was wilting, almost lifeless. As his hand brushed its leaves, a searing pain shot through him, leaving a deep burn on his skin. Eldric recoiled in shock, but as a drop of his blood fell on the plant, it suddenly bloomed, vibrant and alive.

Eldric’s mind raced, uncertainty clawing at his thoughts. This has never happened before—what should I do? His instincts told him to reach for one of the familiar healing plants, but the rules of the garden echoed in his mind: the central garden’s flora was not to be disturbed. But what if it gets worse? he thought, panic rising. As he searched frantically, his gaze returned to the strange plant that had harmed him. It stood alone, isolated from the others, as if it didn’t belong, and yet it had drawn his blood, thrived on it. The sight of it sent a shiver down his spine. Why is this happening?

“That’s a nightshade,” a voice murmured from the shadows. Eldric turned to see a young elf with her hood drawn up, a smile playing on her lips as if his pain amused her. “Poisonous, isn’t it?”

Eldric stared at her, his face a mask of confusion. “How rude of me. Name’s Nyx.” she said proudly, extending her right arm for a handshake. Eldric scowled. It was elven custom to greet with left hands; she was only using her right as that was the one he burned. “Do you know what can help with this?” Eldric asked.

“Yes,” she said simply, “But some things are best left to fate, don’t you think?”

Before he could press her, a well-dressed elf with runes on his belt appeared, shouting, “Begone, vile creature!” The girl smiled and vanished into the crowd. 

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The newcomer turned to Eldric. “What were you doing with her? Don’t you know what she is?” Eldric could think of a few things: rude, mean but above all, mysterious. But he shook his head and replied in the negative. “She’s a dark elf,” he said sternly, “you don’t want to mix with her kind. Come on, I’ll take you to a healer.”

As Eldric followed the elf, he introduced himself as Kael Emberstone, son of Aurelius Emberstone. Eldric stared in disbelief—Aurelius was the most powerful of the elders. Noticing the expression on Eldric’s face, Kael smiled and casually returned his sword to its sheath.

Eldric faced the crowd where Nyx disappeared into and felt a swirl of emotions—relief that she was gone, irritation at her cryptic behaviour, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Why am I still thinking about her? he thought, frustrated with himself. She’s dangerous—Kael said as much. But… He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her than Kael was letting on, and that gnawed at him. And he couldn’t help but think, If a simple plant can do this, what else is out there?

They continued through the lively streets of the city centre, the crowd parting effortlessly for Kael as he led the way with confidence. He didn’t even glance back at Eldric, as if expecting him to follow without question. Eldric, who was accustomed to being nearly invisible, marvelled at the deference shown to Kael. Normally, he would be jostled and pushed by passersby, but now, he moved with an unusual ease, the chaos of the city swirling around them yet never touching them.

As they walked, the vibrant sounds of the city gradually softened. The clang of blacksmiths' hammers, the chatter of merchants, and the laughter of children faded into the background, replaced by the gentle hum of enchantment that permeated the air. The narrow streets widened, and the towering buildings of the market gave way to a quieter, more orderly part of the city.

Soon, they approached the healer’s hut, a modest building nestled between two ancient oaks. The atmosphere here was different, calmer, as if the very air was infused with the soothing energy of healing magic. The hustle and bustle of the city seemed a world away as they stepped inside. The interior was warm and inviting, with sunlight filtering through large windows, casting dappled light on the wooden floors.

At the front of the hut, several desks were arranged neatly, each occupied by a pair of healers attending to patients. The walls were lined with shelves holding jars of herbs, potions, and scrolls of advice on healthy living. Despite the many elves waiting for treatment, Kael confidently led Eldric past the queue, motioning for him to follow. “Don’t worry,” Kael said with a reassuring smile, “we won’t have to wait long. We get special treatment.”

They made their way to the front and finally Eldric had his hand examined. 

The healer, an elderly elf with a pleasant smile greeted them with her left hand. She gently grabbed hold of Eldric’s right hand and withdrew immediately. Eldric looked worried. “Don’t be dismayed,” the healer said, sensing his fear, “that’s common. Allow me to get my gloves.” She put on her gloves and after closely inspecting the burn looked up at Eldric in amazement.

“That’s strange,” said the healer, “I've never seen anything like this. How did this happen?” 

“It was a nightshade,” he said, unsure of whether to believe Nyx or not. 

An alarmed look appeared on Kael’s face and he hurried off. “Oh,” he returned searching for something in his pocket, “here.” He placed a few elven coins on the healer’s desk, apparently for Eldric’s payment. He was unaware that you had to pay; he had always lived in urban areas and resorted to nature for healing. He felt a twinge of guilt that Kael paid for him, despite knowing he must be rich. He also felt it unfair and immoral that one had to pay for good health. 

“A nightshade?” said the healer, “never heard of that. What is it?”

“A plant,” he replied. The healer raised an eyebrow. She could tell from Eldric’s rugged, green clothes and his vibrant green eyes that he was a nature elf. How did a plant harm him?

As the healer tentatively massaged his hand, Eldric couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being drawn into something far beyond his understanding. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, and a cold dread settled in his stomach. What if this doesn’t heal? he thought, a spike of fear making his hands tremble.

“Okay, this may hurt a tad, but it will only take a few seconds.” 

She lied. It hurt a lot. And it took much longer than a few seconds. 

Eldric braced his teeth as the healer’s gloves embraced his right hand. He grimaced as the gloves glowed a gold fluorescent light. After a minute or so, the healer let go with a gasp. She returned back to smiling. “Oh dear, this is harder than I thought.” 

A young elf from behind the desk, seemingly appearing from nowhere, offered to help. She held onto a charm on her necklace and it glowed as she chanted. She then grasped Eldric’s hand without gloves. Eldric prepared himself for the worst, but when he opened his eyes after a few seconds, he saw he was healed. He felt no pain. Amazed, he laughed and looked at the elf who helped him. 

“What…how?” he stuttered.

The elf smiled and shrugged, but the older healer, her voice heavy with pride, said, “Oh, Elara is a talented young healer.” Elara, embarrassed, walked backwards, rummaging through equipment and potions.

“Well, you’d best get going young elf, I’ve got more patients.” Eldric looked behind him to see a grown elf, his arms folded with a frown on his face. He was obviously annoyed that Eldric was able to skip the queue. Eldric thanked the healer and made his way back to the central garden.

No matter how hard he tried to push it away, Nyx’s words kept echoing in his mind: “That’s a nightshade.” The more he thought about it, the more questions arose. What is a dark elf? Why had she been in the garden? Why did she seem so familiar with the plant that had hurt him? And most troubling of all, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?