**Chapter 37: The Forgotten Tale**
Eliza's heart thundered in her chest as the figure loomed over them, the air thick with tension and the scent of unraveling magic. The swirling mist from the fissure in the Story Tree clung to her, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. But she couldn't falter. Not now.
"We need to move!" Mulan's voice cut through the suffocating atmosphere, snapping Eliza out of her frozen state. The warrior was already taking defensive steps, her sword gleaming as it caught the faint glow of the Story Tree's crack. The others followed suit—Elsa summoning a swirl of ice that shimmered at her fingertips, Ariel's trident crackling with energy, and Tiana scanning the environment for an opening.
But Eliza remained still. Her mind was not on the looming threat of the figure, nor on the chaotic mist seeping from the tree—it was on the words the figure had spoken.
*"I was meant to be the first."*
The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. This figure, this forgotten being, was erased from the First Story. But why? And how could she possibly restore a story that no longer existed?
"You hesitate, Story Keeper," the figure's voice rumbled like thunder, dark eyes burning with a challenge. "Do you fear what you cannot see? What you cannot remember?"
Eliza clenched her fists, taking a step forward. "I don't fear you," she said, her voice steadying. "But I don't understand. Why were you erased? Why did the First Story cast you aside?"
The figure's form flickered, as if struggling to maintain its shape. "Because I was a mistake. A flaw in the perfect order the First Story desired. I was not supposed to exist, yet I did. And so, I was erased. Forgotten."
The ground trembled beneath their feet again, the mist swirling faster now, as if drawn to the dark figure. "But the First Story never accounted for what happens when something like me is erased. When a story is forgotten, it leaves a scar, a wound in the fabric of the realms. And now that wound has festered."
Eliza's mind raced. A forgotten story… a wound in the fabric of reality. It made sense now—this figure wasn't just some vengeful spirit or a remnant of old magic. It was a missing piece, a part of the narrative that had been ripped away, leaving everything else unstable.
"We have to restore the story," she said, her voice rising with urgency. "If we don't, everything will fall apart."
"But how?" Tiana asked, stepping closer. "We don't even know what the story was."
Eliza looked at the Story Tree, her gaze tracing the glowing crack that spread like a scar across its bark. The magic pulsing within the tree was erratic, struggling to keep the realms in balance. But deep within it, Eliza could still feel the First Story's presence—faint, but there. It hadn't abandoned them yet.
"There has to be a way," Eliza muttered. "The Story Tree remembers everything, even the stories that were erased."
A sudden realization hit her. The tree was the key. It had recorded all stories, even the ones that were cast aside. If she could connect with it, she might be able to pull the forgotten tale from the depths of its magic.
"Eliza, look out!" Elsa's shout came just in time.
A wave of dark energy shot toward them, and Eliza barely had time to dive out of the way. The ground where she had been standing cracked and shattered, tendrils of mist curling into the air.
"You cannot rewrite what was never completed," the figure growled, its form becoming more solid with each passing second. "The First Story has no power here."
Eliza staggered to her feet, her pulse racing. She glanced at the Story Tree, its magic flickering weakly. "Maybe the First Story doesn't," she whispered, more to herself than to the others. "But we do."
She turned to the others, her eyes blazing with determination. "I need to reach the core of the tree. It holds the memory of the erased story."
Elsa's ice-blue eyes widened. "That's insane. The tree is unstable! You saw what happened when you touched it."
"I know," Eliza said. "But it's the only way. If I can find the memory of the erased story, I might be able to restore it."
"We'll cover you," Mulan said without hesitation, stepping up beside Eliza. "Do what you have to."
Eliza nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Thank you."
As the others moved to face the shadowy figure, Eliza turned toward the Story Tree. The crack in its bark had grown wider, the glowing light within pulsing erratically. Dark mist seeped from the fissure, but Eliza pushed forward, ignoring the rising dread in her chest.
She placed her hands on the tree's bark, feeling the frantic pulse of magic beneath her fingertips. For a moment, it felt as though the tree would reject her, its magic recoiling from her touch. But then, slowly, the magic began to respond, pulling her deeper, into the heart of the First Story.
The world around her faded, and suddenly, she was standing in a vast, empty space, filled with the shimmering threads of countless stories. The threads wove together in intricate patterns, each one representing a tale that had been told, a life that had been lived. But amid the tapestry, there was a gaping hole, a void where a story should have been.
Eliza moved closer to the void, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—the erased story. The missing piece that had thrown everything into chaos.
*But how do I restore it?* she thought, her mind racing.
A voice echoed in the void, soft but insistent. *You are the Story Keeper. You have the power to rewrite what was forgotten.*
Eliza hesitated for only a moment before reaching out, her fingers brushing the edges of the void. As soon as she made contact, a surge of magic shot through her, filling her with the weight of the forgotten tale.
Images flashed before her eyes—a figure cast in darkness, a realm forgotten by time, a tale that had been erased before it could be told. The story was incomplete, fractured, but it was still there, hidden in the depths of the magic.
Eliza's breath caught in her throat as she realized what she had to do.
She had to finish the story.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began to weave the threads together, pulling the forgotten tale from the void and giving it form. The magic surged around her, wild and untamed, but Eliza held steady, her mind focused on the task at hand.
As she worked, the void began to fill, the forgotten story taking shape once more.
And in that moment, Eliza knew—the realms would be saved. But only if she could finish the tale before time ran out.