The wind carried the scent of damp earth and ancient bark as it whispered through the towering trees of the Aldervale. The heart of the enchanted forest pulsed with a slow, rhythmic hum—a subtle reminder of the deep magic that flowed through the roots of its trees, stretching far beneath the surface. For as long as she could remember, Elorin had found solace in this place. The Heartwood Tree, in particular, had always given her a sense of peace, its gnarled, ancient roots twisting into the earth-like tendrils that bound the world together.

She knelt before it now, her fingers brushing against the cool, damp soil. Her task as a caretaker of the Grove of Elders was routine, and familiar. Each day, she tended to the trees, ensuring their roots remained healthy and their bark untouched by decay. It was simple work, the kind most of the Vale Council's attendants avoided, but Elorin had never minded. The quiet of the forest soothed her, and the low murmur of the trees was like a song only she could hear.

But today, the air felt different.

A chill ran down her spine, sharp and sudden, cutting through the stillness of the afternoon. She paused, her hand hovering above the ground, her green eyes narrowing as she scanned the surrounding trees. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in a way that set her nerves on edge. Something was coming, though she couldn't quite place what.

Her hand moved instinctively to her satchel, where she kept the simple tools of her trade: pruning shears, a vial of salve for bark wounds, and a small dagger—though she had rarely used it. The forests of the Aldervale were safe, protected by ancient magic and the watchful eyes of the Vale Council. In her twenty-four years, Elorin had never seen anything that warranted fear.

So why did she feel like someone—or something—was watching her?

The wind shifted again, carrying with it the softest sound: a low hum, like the faint ringing of a bell. Elorin's head turned, her gaze drawn back to the base of the Heartwood Tree. For the first time, she noticed something she had never seen before—a faint glow emanating from the soil beneath the tangled roots.

She frowned, curiosity mingling with unease as she reached out, brushing away the dirt. Her fingers grazed something solid, something smooth. A relic, perhaps? She dug a little deeper, the glow intensifying as more of the object was revealed. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. The relic was a small, polished stone, its surface etched with intricate symbols that pulsed with faint, golden light.

Elorin's breath caught in her throat as she gingerly picked it up. The moment her skin touched the stone, a sharp jolt of energy surged through her, so powerful that it knocked her back, her head hitting the ground with a dull thud. She gasped, her vision swimming as the world around her began to twist and warp. The trees blurred, their towering forms bending in ways that defied reason.

The relic pulsed once more, and the pain in her head subsided, replaced by a strange warmth that coursed through her veins. For a moment, time seemed to slow, each heartbeat stretching into eternity.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Elorin sat up, her heart pounding, her breath shallow as she glanced around. The forest was as it had been before—silent, undisturbed. She looked down at her hand, half-expecting the relic to still be glowing, but it was dull now, its light gone. Her fingers tightened around it as she rose unsteadily to her feet. What was this thing? And why had it been buried beneath the Heartwood Tree?

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A noise from behind startled her, and Elorin spun, clutching the relic tightly. From the corner of her eye, she saw movement—faint, fleeting. A figure, cloaked in shadow, slipped between the trees, disappearing into the underbrush. Her heart skipped a beat.

She wasn't alone.

For the first time in her life, Elorin felt a cold, creeping fear claw at her insides. Whoever—or whatever—that figure was, it had been watching her. And it hadn't meant her any good. She could feel it.

Quickly, she shoved the relic into her satchel, glancing around once more. The forest seemed darker now, the shadows deeper, the silence oppressive. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, to return to the Vale Council and report what she had found. But something held her back.

Elorin hesitated for only a moment longer before making her decision. She turned on her heel and sprinted back toward the heart of the Aldervale, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she darted between the trees. The wind whipped at her face, and her legs burned, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.

As she neared the village at the forest's edge, the familiar sight of the Council's towers came into view—tall, elegant structures that rose above the canopy, their silver spires glinting in the light of the setting suns. Relief flooded her chest. She was almost there.

But as she stepped into the clearing, the ground shook beneath her feet.

Elorin froze, her eyes widening in horror as the earth cracked open before her, jagged fissures tearing through the once-solid ground. A deafening roar filled the air, and from the depths of the fissures, a torrent of dark energy erupted, spiraling upward into the sky. The forest groaned as the trees bent and twisted, their branches snapping like brittle bones.

And then, from the heart of the destruction, they came.

Figures cloaked in shadow emerged from the fissures, their forms flickering in and out of existence like phantoms. They moved with unnatural speed, their eyes glowing with a sickly, pale light. Elorin took a step back, her heart hammering in her chest.

Varkos.

She didn't know how she knew his name, but the moment her gaze locked onto the figure at the center of the chaos, it seared itself into her mind. Varkos was taller than the others, his face hidden beneath a hood, but his presence was undeniable. He radiated power—dark, twisted power that made the air around him crackle with energy.

Elorin's hand instinctively went to the relic in her satchel, her fingers curling around it as she took another step back. The shadows advanced, their eyes trained on her, unblinking, unrelenting.

She had to run.

Without a second thought, Elorin turned and bolted toward the village, her heart racing as the ground shook beneath her. The Council's towers loomed ahead, their spires illuminated by the glow of magic that protected the Aldervale. If she could just reach them, if she could warn them—

The first blow came out of nowhere.

Elorin's vision exploded in a flash of white as something heavy slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground. She gasped, pain lancing through her body as she tried to push herself up, but the weight was too much. Darkness edged at her vision, and she could feel the shadows closing in around her.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers tightened around the relic. "Not like this…"

But even as the world dimmed around her, she felt it—the faint pulse of the relic in her hand, the same warmth she had felt when she first touched it. It was there, beneath the pain, beneath the fear.

The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was the figure of Varkos standing above her, his pale eyes gleaming beneath the hood. He spoke, his voice a low, guttural whisper.

"You cannot escape."

And then everything went black.

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Elorin gasped as she jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest, her body drenched in sweat. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of her small room. The air was still, silent. No fissures, no shadows, no Varkos.

She was alive.

But something was wrong.

Her breath hitched as she looked around, recognizing the familiar surroundings of her home in the Aldervale. She touched her chest where she had felt the blow, but there was no pain, no wound.

It was as if none of it had happened.

But as Elorin's hand brushed against the satchel at her side, she froze.

The relic was still there.