As dawn's first light filtered through the canopy, the immortals stirred from their sleep, their eyes widening as they saw an impressive feast spread out before them. The forest's gifts: fruits that shimmered with colors they had never seen, glistening with dew, and vegetables that seemed to pulse with vitality. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how such a bounty had arrived in silence.
"It was Sylvaris," one of the Gloomlings piped up, a proud smile on its face. "He brought it before you woke."
The immortals marveled at the generosity, and before long, Sylvaris himself stepped from the shadows of the towering trees. His form was fluid, moving as though he were part of the forest itself, his bark-like skin glistening in the dappled sunlight. He greeted them with a nod and a soft, knowing smile.
"Good morning," he said, his voice like the whisper of leaves in the wind. "I see the forest has provided you well."
Just as he spoke, Luna's small cry pierced the air. The baby had woken from her sleep, her tiny fists waving, seeking attention. Sylvaris' eyes softened as he turned toward her. "Ah, it seems the little one has stirred," he said, his voice taking on a warm, almost playful tone. With a graceful motion, he reached into his satchel, which seemed to be woven from vines and moss, and pulled out a strange, glowing fruit. "Here, give her this. She will like it."
The immortals hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances, unsure if they should trust the strange fruit. But Luna's curious hands reached out, and when they finally let her take a bite, her cries subsided. Instead, the child burst into giggles, her face lighting up with joy as she eagerly consumed the rest.
The immortals watched in awe as Luna became livelier, her tiny body almost humming with energy. Sylvaris, still smiling, remarked, "It is important for the young to eat well and grow strong. The forest provides for all who respect its harmony."
The scene was serene, a brief moment of peace amid their ongoing worries. As they gathered around the spread of food, their hearts lightened. Sylvaris sat among them, blending effortlessly with the surroundings, and for a moment, the immortals allowed themselves to enjoy the calm.
But the peace was short-lived.
One of the immortals, his curiosity gnawing at him, couldn't hold back any longer. "Sylvaris," he said, his voice breaking the quiet, "who are the Shadows?"
At once, Sylvaris' expression shifted. The warmth drained from his face, replaced by an almost imperceptible tension. His eyes, which had moments before twinkled with calm wisdom, now darkened with the weight of ancient memories. The immortals watched, sensing that they had touched on something deep—something painful.
"The Shadows..." Sylvaris began, his voice suddenly much quieter, laden with sorrow. "They are not what they seem. But to understand them, you must first understand this place."
The immortals leaned forward, hanging on his every word, as Sylvaris began his tale.
"This forest," he continued, "was once a place of pure tranquility, a sanctuary of life. Long before your kind set foot here, it was known as the Sacred Grove, a place where all creatures, great and small, coexisted in harmony. The trees were tall and strong, the rivers clear as crystal. It was a world untouched by corruption, a haven of peace."
His eyes grew distant, as though he could still see the beauty of those long-lost days. "But everything changed when the humans arrived. It was centuries ago. They came, lost and desperate, asking for shelter, for a place to call home. I saw their hearts then—kind and pure. They were not like the ones you might know today. They wished for nothing more than peace, and I granted them that peace, allowing them to live here, as long as they harmed neither the forest nor its creatures."
The immortals remained silent, captivated by his tale. Sylvaris' voice held an ancient weight, and they could sense that this was not just a story—it was his personal history.
"For over two centuries, the humans lived here, tending to the forest and building their homes beneath the protective branches of the trees. They were careful, always ensuring that the balance remained undisturbed. And for a time, this place was a paradise."
His voice lowered, as if bracing himself for what came next. "But peace never lasts forever."
Sylvaris' face hardened, sorrow lining his bark-like features. "One day, a fire broke out—one so sudden and fierce that it tore through their villages like a storm. But it wasn't just the flames that consumed them. The people... they began to change. Their minds became clouded, their hearts twisted by an unseen force. The humans—who once lived as friends, neighbors—turned on each other. It was madness. They fought, they killed... it was as if something had poisoned them from the inside."
The immortals shared a glance, feeling the weight of Sylvaris' words.
"I saw them then—The Shadows. They crept into the hearts of those humans, twisting their minds, corrupting their souls. They fed on their fear, their anger. And as the humans succumbed, the Shadows grew stronger. Some of the villagers managed to flee, escaping the forest. But most... they were lost. They destroyed each other, leaving nothing behind but ruins and ash."
Sylvaris closed his eyes, the pain evident in his voice. "I tried to stop it. I tried to save them. But the Shadows... they were beyond even my control."
The immortals sat in stunned silence, the weight of the story pressing down on them. Sylvaris' sorrow was palpable, his grief etched into every word. The Shadows were not just a threat—they were a curse upon the forest, one that had already brought ruin.
One of the immortals finally found the courage to speak. "We found ruins," he said quietly. "In the heart of the forest. Were they... theirs?"
Sylvaris nodded slowly, his eyes filled with old pain. "Yes. Those ruins are all that remains of the humans who once called this place home."
His voice trailed off, and for a moment, silence reigned. The immortals were left with a thousand questions swirling in their minds, but before they could ask, Sylvaris' gaze shifted, his expression growing distant again.