A vast forest stretches endlessly across the horizon, its ancient trees reaching skyward as if yearning for the heavens. Their gnarled roots sprawl beneath a thick blanket of snow, hidden but omnipresent, like the veins of the earth itself. The wilderness is untouched by man, its rhythms dictated by nature's unyielding cycles. Animals roam the underbrush—some stalking their prey with predatory precision, while others cower in burrows or hollowed-out tree trunks, hiding from the ever-present danger. In this land, survival is both fleeting and fragile, and the line between predator and prey is razor-thin.
But today, the forest's delicate balance is shattered.
A low rumble reverberates through the trees, shaking loose the snow clinging to their branches. Birds scatter into the sky, their wings beating against the icy wind that suddenly picks up. The air grows heavy, charged with an unnatural energy that makes even the bravest creatures flee. At the heart of a small clearing, the very fabric of reality begins to distort. The air twists and ripples like heat rising from a fire, but instead of warmth, it carries a biting chill that seeps into the bone.
With a deafening crack, a jagged tear splits the sky. The sound is otherworldly, like the groan of an ancient titan. Light pours from the rift, cold and blinding, casting sharp shadows that dance wildly among the trees. The tear widens, its edges fraying like fabric under too much strain. And then, with no warning, a figure falls through—a dark shape plummeting from the blinding void.
The figure crashes into the snow with a muffled thud, motionless. For a moment, the forest watches, holding its breath as though the earth itself is uncertain what has transpired. The light from the tear dims, the rip shrinking rapidly until it disappears altogether, leaving behind only silence and the broken figure lying facedown in the clearing.
The forest soon resumes its rhythm—birds cautiously return to their perches, and the wind quiets to a whisper. But the forest is forever changed. Something has been introduced into its heart, something that doesn't belong.
Ten Years Later
The forest no longer behaves as it once did. Where once the seasons shifted predictably—spring's thaw giving way to summer's lush green, followed by autumn's fiery hues and winter's icy grip—they now churn unnaturally, like a wheel spinning out of control. Frost can blanket the ground one day, only for flowers to bloom the next. And yet, for the last decade, the forest has remained locked in an eternal spring. The trees are heavy with blossoms that never fall, and rivers run swift and clear with snowmelt that never freezes. Though beautiful, this unending vitality carries an unsettling air, as if the forest itself is holding its breath.
This anomaly has not gone unnoticed. The kingdom nearest to the forest, uneasy with its strangeness, dispatched a court mage to investigate the site where the tear first appeared. Accompanied by hired adventurers, the mage has spent years studying the phenomenon, though progress is slow. Rumors of the forest's curse have spread, whispering of strange creatures, unnatural magic, and even shadows that speak. Few dare venture into its depths, and fewer still return unchanged.
The Girl and the Harrin
A scream pierces the quiet of the forest, raw and desperate. Birds scatter from their perches, their cries echoing as they flee.
A young girl stumbles through the underbrush, her breaths ragged and uneven. Her traveling cloak, once sturdy and practical, hangs in tatters, soaked with sweat and blood. Panic fuels her legs as she pushes forward, ignoring the burning in her muscles and the stabbing pain in her side. She risks a glance over her shoulder and instantly regrets it.
A massive beast barrels through the trees, its crimson eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. The creature is grotesque—a twisted blend of pig and man, its bristling fur streaked with dried blood. Tusks the size of daggers jut from its snarling maw, and its massive arms swing wildly as it crushes the underbrush in its path.
The girl's heart pounds like a war drum as she sprints toward a clearing. Safety feels impossibly far away, but she has no other choice. Her lungs scream for air, her feet barely lifting from the uneven ground. She trips on a hidden root and stumbles, nearly falling, but she manages to catch herself and push on.
The clearing is just ahead. Salvation—or perhaps the place where she will make her last stand.
She bursts into the open, the sudden light blinding her for a moment. But her escape is short-lived. Her foot catches on an unseen branch, and she crashes to the ground with a painful cry. She rolls instinctively, clutching her ankle as a sharp pain radiates up her leg.
The monster is upon her now. Its shadow looms over her, and she can feel the earth tremble with its every step. It raises a massive, clawed hand, the air around it thick with malice.
The girl closes her eyes tightly. Her body shakes as she braces for the end—a pain she cannot imagine.
The sound of shattering ice fills the air, followed by a sudden, suffocating cold.
Cautiously, she opens her eyes. The monster is gone. In its place stands a towering pillar of ice, its jagged edges glinting in the sunlight. Frozen blood drips down its surface, pooling at the base.
A voice cuts through the stunned silence. "Madam, are you injured?"
She turns her head toward the sound and freezes.
Standing at the edge of the clearing is a Harrin beastkin. His dark fur glints in the dappled sunlight, and his angular features are sharp and otherworldly. Most striking is the faint shimmer around him, like the lingering afterglow of powerful magic.
"Are you hurt?" he asks again, his ears twitching slightly as he steps closer.
She swallows hard, her throat dry. "I... I think my ankle is twisted," she stammers.
The Harrin nods. "You're lucky," he says, his eyes flicking toward the frozen remains of the monster. "That thing would've killed you."
"Who... Who are you?" she whispers.
The Harrin tilts his head. "Nathan," he replies simply. "And you?"
Her voice trembles. "Lyra. My name is Lyra."