Elanor moved swiftly through the dense underbrush, her heart pounding. Four elves pursued her, the sound of their footsteps growing closer. She had no time to waste. As branches snapped underfoot, she darted between trees, bow ready. A glance back revealed the gleam of silver armor—they were gaining on her.
She pushed harder, needing to lose them before reaching Hestoria. Her father's map had led her here, but if they caught her, none of it would matter. Slowing slightly, she scanned the path ahead. They had to follow her, fall into her traps. Elanor fired a quick arrow at the nearest elf, grazing him. The twang of her bow echoed, and the elves charged.
A trap triggered. One elf stepped on a tripwire, and a massive log swung down, smashing him aside. Another stumbled into a net that shot up, leaving him tangled and screaming in the trees.
Two remained.
Elanor reached her ambush point, dove behind a fallen tree, and nocked an arrow. Breath steady, she waited. The two elves charged through the clearing, scanning wildly.
Exhaling softly, she released the arrow, hitting one elf in the shoulder. The other barely had time to react before Elanor shot again, dropping him.
But something was wrong. The elf she shot twitched, his skin turning sickly purple, decaying rapidly. The corruption spread until his body withered in seconds.
"What in Lesi's name…?"
No time to dwell. She had to move.
Elanor ran toward the cliff's edge. Through the thick canopy, she glimpsed sunlight reflecting off water. She picked up speed, finally reaching the breathtaking sight.
A massive waterfall cascaded from the cliffs, its waters shimmering in hues of blue, purple, green, and pink. It was as if the waterfall itself were made of rainbows. Light red flowers swayed in the breeze, their fragrance filling the air. Butterflies danced through sunlight, their wings iridescent.
Elanor stopped, mesmerized. For the first time in ages, she felt peace—a brief respite from the constant danger. She stepped forward, letting the cool mist of the waterfall kiss her skin. Wading into the shallow pool beneath it, she found a hidden entrance in the rock wall—a small cave.
Inside, the cave was illuminated by a soft, golden glow. Elanor blinked, adjusting to the bioluminescent bugs that filled the air, their glow casting magical light across the stone walls.
The cave wound upward, her anticipation growing with every step. And then, the cave opened to reveal the most breathtaking sight she had ever seen.
A floating island hovered within the heart of the waterfall, bathed in soft light. Massive, cow-like creatures drifted effortlessly through the air, their bodies glowing softly. Below, vibrant bird-like creatures soared above a lake, their feathers casting streaks of color across the water.
Elanor's breath caught in her throat. This was Hestoria—the land of the fairies. Her father's stories had come to life. For a moment, she could almost hear her best friend Veldna's laughter, remember the nights they spent dreaming of this place together.
As Elanor stepped forward, the light flickered. Suddenly, a neon pink glow surrounded her, pulsing with an otherworldly energy. She gasped as her vision darkened, and she fell into nothingness.
When she awoke, soft light greeted her. She blinked, head spinning as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. No longer at the waterfall or the cave, she was now in a vast throne room unlike anything she had ever seen.
The walls were shimmering crystal, casting rainbows. The ceiling soared high, swirling with light patterns that danced like stars. The polished floor reflected the brilliant hues of the room. Glowing pink and purple flowers climbed the columns, radiating warmth.
At the far end, on a throne of gold and silver, sat the most stunning figure Elanor had ever seen.
The queen of Hestoria.
Regal and radiant, the queen wore a flowing pink gown that shimmered with every movement, the fabric delicate and ethereal. Her pale blue skin, covered in fine iridescent scales, reflected the light. In her hand, she held a staff, topped with a crystal that pulsed with soft pink light.
But her wings stole Elanor's breath. Majestic and vibrant, they shimmered with every imaginable color, each feather sparkling like a gem. Her striking amethyst eyes locked onto Elanor, filled with wisdom and a gaze so intense it felt like she could see into Elanor's soul.
"Welcome, Elanor of Lystrgate," the queen's voice was melodic yet firm, echoing through the grand hall.
Elanor, dazed, stood. "How… how do you know my name?"
The queen smiled softly. "I know all who enter Hestoria. It has been long since someone from Lystrgate arrived. Tell me, child, why have you come?"
Elanor hesitated. "Thalion, my father… he sent me here. He… he wanted me to come."
The queen's eyes softened. "Your father? How is he now? It has been years since I last saw him."
Elanor's heart clenched. "He's dead…"
A flicker of sadness crossed the queen's face. "Your father was a kind man. A long time ago, I was injured and fell into Lystrgate. He treated my wounds, and in gratitude, I gave him the map to this sacred land, promising to repay him someday. I did not know he had passed."
Anger surged in Elanor. "We elves are trapped. My father and many others are dead. I was hunted by my own people, and forced to kill them… and their bodies decayed when they died. I don't even understand what's happening but I swear, I will go back, slay all who wronged my loved ones, and free my people."
The queen's expression darkened. "You said the elves decayed after you killed them?"
Elanor nodded. "Yes, right in front of me."
The queen rose, her wings flaring as she strode forward. "That decay is no ordinary affliction. It is caused by a parasite from Egentrus, the forsaken land where the Destetude resides. When the host is killed, the parasite feeds on the body, draining the soul and sending it to its master. This is worse than I feared."
Elanor's fear deepened. "What do you mean? The Destetude? The champion of the Great Wars, ruler of the other half, and the killer of millions? And what does this have to do with my people?"
The queen's eyes narrowed. "The king of the elves is an agent of the Destetude it would seem from everything you said. He is planting these parasites in your people, intending to harvest their souls for power. The maze is a trap to keep them contained while he works. Once the parasites mature, he will kill them all and gain unimaginable strength."
Elanor's heart raced. "We have to stop him!"
"We will," the queen replied, "but carefully. The Destetude may have agents in other kingdoms as well. And you are not yet ready. The King of the Elves will likely have access to soul manipulation. I will teach you Gale, the secret art of the fairies, so you can communicate with the spirits of nature."
The queen raised her staff, and the crystal glowed brightly. The air shimmered, and ethereal lights flickered into the room, transforming into spirits—deer, foxes, owls, and wolves—creatures Elanor had only seen in her homeland. They circled her, their forms vivid and full of energy.
Elanor's eyes widened as more spirits gathered. But beyond them, through the crystal walls, she saw something even more awe-inspiring.
In the distance stood a massive tree. Its trunk was deep green, its golden leaves shimmering. It pulsed with ancient power, filling Elanor with wonder.
As she marveled at the sight, a figure emerged. Tall and striking, with emerald skin and glowing blue eyes, his long hair flowed like leaves. He wore a robe of vines and moss, his presence serene yet strong.
"Greetings, Elanor," he said, his voice like rustling leaves. "I am Fernon, the spirit guide of these lands. I will help you master Gale."
As Elanor followed Fernon, the queen called out softly, "Elanor, wait…"
But Elanor didn't hear her, lost in the world only she could see. The queen lowered her hand, watching Elanor wave to spirits invisible to her. The guide she followed didn't exist in the queen's realm, yet Elanor acted as though the room was full of life.
What was this power Elanor possessed?
The queen's heart wavered. Should she pull Elanor back? Reveal the truth? But something held her back. What if this was part of Elanor's path?
She let Elanor go, curious to see where this journey would lead.
As the doors closed behind Elanor, the queen stood in silence, her mind racing. Elanor's version of Gale was beyond her understanding, a power far more dangerous than she could teach.
"I can't even see them," the queen whispered, "these spirits she follows… they exist beyond life and death. She's seeing the afterlife."
A shiver ran through her. If Elanor possessed this power, what else might she see? How long before she realized that many of the beings she thought were real had already crossed into the world of the dead?
"She may never know what is real," the queen murmured, heart heavy with the weight of this truth. "But perhaps… that is the cruel fate of her power."
With that, the queen returned to her throne, uncertain but determined. Elanor's path would be instrumental in stopping the elven genocide—whether she knew the truth or not.