One bright morning, Lady Ellara gently informed Eric that after much thought, she and Lady Feywood had decided he was ready to undergo a special ceremony called the Elven Awakening ritual.
Though Eric did not fully grasp its significance yet, his naturally curious nature had questions brimming right away. "What kind of ceremony is it?" Eric asked.
Lady Ellara smiled affectionately at her son's innate inquisitiveness. "It is an ancient and sacred tradition amongst our elven people," she explained. "We will journey to a serene forest glen where our family's ancestral magic first took root in the mists of time."
Eric's imagination immediately began swirling with excitement. "Is the ritual in a mystical golden cave full of glowing crystals? Or maybe a secret castle floating amongst the clouds?" he mused.
His grandmother Lady Feywood laughed warmly at her grandson's fanciful theories. "No, nothing quite so extraordinary. Just a peaceful clearing guarded by towering ancient trees, filled with energy you will learn to sense and connect with during the ritual."
As Lady Feywood went on to describe how Eric would meditate deeply in order to meet his spiritual magical guide, the boy grew more eager by the second, practically vibrating in his seat. His mind raced as he imagined all the wondrous abilities he might finally be able to unlock and wield after this fated ceremony.
On the appointed day, Lady Feywood led both Eric and Lady Ellara on an arduous winding forest path snaking away from the elven palace and city to reach the secluded glen. Eric stuck close to his grandmother's side along the journey, equal parts mesmerized and intimidated by the primordial, giant trees looming overhead that blotted out the rising sun's rays. The rich, loamy scent of earth and moss hung heavy in the cool misty air.
After nearly an hour of cautiously picking their way over tangled gnarled roots and under hanging curtains of vine, the forest path finally opened up to reveal a sizeable clearing veiled by wispy fog. The babble of the city and noise of civilization had long since faded away entirely. A perfect ring of towering ancient stones, their surfaces covered in cryptic archaic etchings and runes dating back ages past, marked this haven as hallowed ritual ground.
In the exact center of the round glen lay a still, glassy pool reflecting the brightening sky above as dawn gradually broke. Its waters were so utterly serene and clear, they appeared almost solid at first glance, akin to a flawless giant crystal mirror sunk straight into the earth.
Eric hesitantly reached out to brush his fingertips over one of the mammoth weathered stones as he slowly passed it by, feeling a subtle yet palpable thrum of ancestral energy simmering just under its coarse surface. Though countless generations had come and gone since the site's consecration, the living essence of those first mystic elven ancestors still faintly resonated within these time-worn monoliths.
The boy shivered involuntarily, the fine hairs at the nape of his neck prickling. This place pulsed with a primordial power beyond his comprehension. He was equal parts nervous anticipation and uneasy apprehension about what the next moments might bring.
The fated ritual was about to commence...