Thunder struck, the noise jolting Elara awake. She glanced around; the others were still asleep, except for Prince Aldric, who was staring into the flickering flames of their campfire.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked softly.
Aldric sighed. "Yes."
"What are you thinking about?" Elara propped herself up on one elbow, her eyes meeting his.
Aldric's expression grew distant. "The king. He used to be a man who loved his people. His sudden change baffles me. How could a king so loving become this cruel?"
Elara reached out and gently touched his arm. "Something must have happened. That's why we need to save him and protect the kingdom."
Aldric looked deeply into Elara's eyes, drawn to the warmth and determination he saw there. He felt a sudden, intense connection to her, a feeling that left him both comforted and unsettled. His gaze lingered on her, his admiration growing into something more.
The spell between them was broken by Gareth's sudden voice. "What are you two doing?"
Startled, they both pulled back. "Nothing," they said in unison, their voices a bit too hurried.
Later, as the camp settled back into silence, a figure in a hooded cloak appeared in the distance. Elara noticed it first, nudging Aldric. "Who is that?"
The figure turned and began to walk away. The group, now fully alert, followed the cloaked entity through the dark forest. The path led them to a hidden lair, an eerie glow emanating from its entrance.
The sorcerer, known as Malachar, emerged from the shadows. "I have been watching your progress," he began, his voice a deep, unsettling murmur. "I wish to help you, but you must do something for me in return."
The group exchanged wary glances. Aldric stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "We don't make deals with strangers in the dead of night."
As they turned to leave, Malachar's voice rang out, stopping them in their tracks. "Elara, you are rejected by your own people, labeled as the Harbinger of Doom."
Elara froze. "How do you know that?"
Ignoring her question, Malachar turned to Aldric. "Prince Aldric, the rebel prince. Too bad the king thought you wanted to kill him."
In anger, Aldric shouted, "I did not try to kill him! I saved him!"
Malachar laughed maniacally. "Too bad the king did not see it that way."
Facing Gareth and Richard, he continued, "The disgraced knight and the thief seeking redemption."
Elara's eyes narrowed. "The fact that you know all these does not mean anything."
They tried to leave, but the path they had taken seemed to dissolve into the darkness, swallowed by the encroaching forest. Trees twisted and loomed closer, their gnarled branches intertwining to form an impenetrable barrier. Shadows danced and flickered, creating an eerie, ever-shifting maze that left them utterly disoriented.
Elara stepped forward, her brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to summon her power. Her hands glowed faintly, but the light quickly dimmed and flickered out.
"Do something, Elara!" Gareth urged, his voice tinged with panic. He glanced around, eyes wide with desperation.
Elara clenched her fists, her frustration mounting. "My power isn't working," she replied, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. The magical energy she usually commanded felt distant and unreachable, as if something was smothering it.
The oppressive darkness seemed to press in on them, the air growing thick with an unnatural chill. The forest was no longer just a forest—it had become a living, breathing trap, designed to ensnare them.
Malachar laughed again, his voice echoing through the trees. "You cannot leave. This lair is surrounded by Obsidian Shards, which block all magic. There is no way out except to do what I ask."
The group turned back, and Elara stepped forward. "What do you want?"
Malachar chuckled, a sinister sound that sent shivers down their spines. "That's more like it. I want you to retrieve something for me, an artifact from the Cave of the Forgotten."
In anger, Elara demanded, "Why don't you do it yourself?"
Malachar's smile faded slightly. "I don't have the kind of power you possess. Only someone with your abilities can enter and come out alive. I've tried once, and I nearly died at the entrance."
Elara's frustration grew. "What is this artifact?"
"It's called the Soul Medallion," Malachar replied. "But I cannot give you the full details of what it does."
Elara's eyes narrowed, but she nodded. The prince, Gareth, and Richard pulled her aside.
"You cannot agree to what this man wants," Aldric whispered urgently.
Elara glanced at the twisted forest around them. "We don't have a choice. If we don't, we'll be stuck here forever."
Reluctantly, the others nodded. Malachar's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Only Elara will go. The rest of you will stay behind."
Aldric stepped forward, his face contorted with anger. "Absolutely not. She's not going alone."
Malachar raised a hand to silence Aldric. "As a token of my appreciation, Elara, I will teach you a powerful spell when you return."
Elara met his gaze, her eyes cold and unyielding. "I don't need anything from you," she replied, her voice steady and resolute.
Malachar's smile widened, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Your pride is admirable, but misguided," he said softly. "Even the strongest among us can benefit from new knowledge."
Elara stood her ground. "I won't be indebted to you."
The sorcerer's expression turned serious, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Very well. But remember, the path of power is a lonely one. When you're ready to accept help, even from unexpected sources, you might find the strength you need."
Elara's jaw tightened. "I'll find my own way."
Malachar shrugged, flicking his wrist. The path reappeared before them. "Very well. Use your gift to navigate to the cave. What's the fun of having your power if you can't use it?"
Elara closed her eyes, concentrating. After a few moments, she opened them and n
odded. "Got it." She turned to the rest of the group. "I'll be back before you know it."