Aelor stood in his dimly lit cabin, the flickering light of a single lantern casting long shadows across the wooden walls. The map spread out on his desk was old, its edges frayed from years of use. He traced the inked lines with his finger, connecting villages, forests, and the river that wound its way through the land like a serpent. His mind was a storm of thoughts, each one darker than the last.
The reports from the villagers haunted him. Trees withering, plants turning black as if scorched, their leaves crumbling to dust at the slightest touch. No one had been harmed—yet—but it felt like the prelude to something far worse. Could it be poison seeping into the land? Or was it a dark omen, a warning from the ancient forces that lay beyond the Ashen Divide?
His finger paused over a point on the map where the river twisted near the foot of the Veiled Mountains. It was there that the strange decay seemed most concentrated, according to the villagers' tales. If the magic was bleeding into the land, this could be its source, or at least a clue to what was happening. Aelor frowned, deep in thought, when a sudden knock on the door shattered his concentration.
Startled, he turned towards the entrance, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at his belt. The night was filled with uncertainties, and caution had become second nature. He approached the door slowly and pulled it open, ready for whatever might be waiting on the other side.
To his surprise, he was met with a familiar face—a tall elf with long, chestnut-brown hair that cascaded down his back like a waterfall. His piercing green eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, a smile playing on his lips.
"Rylan?" Aelor breathed, his tension easing as he recognized his childhood friend. It had been years since they had last seen each other, but the bond they shared was as strong as ever.
"Aelor, you old hermit," Rylan teased, stepping forward to embrace him in a firm, brotherly hug. "I heard you were causing a stir at the village square, questioning the Council's wisdom as usual."
Aelor managed a weary smile. "You know me, Rylan. I've never been good at keeping my mouth shut when there's something wrong."
Rylan laughed, a warm sound that filled the small cabin. "Some things never change," he said, stepping back to take in the sight of Aelor. "But I must admit, you look like you've seen better days. What troubles you this time, my friend?"
Aelor gestured for Rylan to come in, closing the door behind him. "It's the dark magic," he said, his voice low. "The same kind we faced during the war, but this time… it feels different. More insidious. I was just trying to figure out where it's coming from."
Rylan's expression grew serious as he approached the desk, peering down at the map. "I've heard the rumors," he admitted. "Dead plants, sickened soil. The forest near the river has turned black as night, and the creatures that live there are fleeing deeper into the wilds. It's as if the land itself is crying out."
Aelor nodded. "I fear it's only the beginning. If we don't find the source soon, it could spread beyond the mountains, into the heart of Aldoria."
Rylan traced a finger along the river's path, his brows furrowed in thought. "You think it's connected to the river?" he asked, looking up at Aelor.
"It's possible," Aelor replied. "The decay seems to follow its course. But whether it's poison or something more sinister… I don't know. The villagers haven't seen any strange figures, no signs of enemy scouts. It's as if the magic is seeping out of the earth itself."
Rylan's eyes narrowed. "That sounds like the old tales—the ones of curses and ancient spirits bound to the land. But those were just stories, weren't they?"
Aelor shook his head. "We thought the same of the vampires before the old war. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that legends are often rooted in truth." He paused, his gaze darkening. "I'm going to investigate the source myself. I can't sit idly by while this darkness spreads."
As the glow of their camaraderie began to fade, Rylan's expression grew more serious. He stepped away from the map, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aelor," he began, his voice uncharacteristically grave, "there's something I need to tell you. I didn't come here just for a friendly visit."
Aelor's brow furrowed, the shift in tone catching him off guard. "What do you mean?"
Rylan hesitated, the playful spark in his eyes dimming. "The Council sent me," he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper as if the walls themselves might overhear. "They're pulling you from the mission, Aelor. They've decided it's too dangerous to risk your life. They'd rather send a squad of seasoned warriors to investigate the river."
Aelor's face darkened, his jaw clenching as the words sank in. "They what?" he spat, slamming a fist onto the desk. The old wood creaked under the force of his anger. "After all their talk of unity and needing every able hand, they decide to sideline me? I was the one who convinced them to look into this before it's too late!"
Rylan held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Aelor, please, listen to me. They're not dismissing you because they doubt your abilities. They're doing it because they know how much you've already sacrificed. They don't want to lose you, not after everything."
"Damn their pity," Aelor growled, turning away to pace the small cabin. "I don't need their protection. I need to be out there, finding answers, not sitting here like some caged beast." His thoughts raced, anger blinding him to everything else. All his plans, all his urgency to act, now thwarted by a decision made behind closed doors.
Rylan stepped forward, gently catching Aelor's arm, forcing him to stop. "I know you're furious," he said softly, his green eyes locking onto Aelor's with an intensity that made Aelor's breath hitch. "But there's more I need to say—something I should have told you a long time ago."
Aelor blinked, his anger momentarily eclipsed by confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Taking a deep breath, Rylan's grip tightened on Aelor's arm. "I've… I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember," he confessed, his voice trembling. "Even when we were young, even through the war… it's always been you, Aelor. I came here tonight not just because the Council sent me, but because I couldn't bear the thought of you throwing your life away on some doomed quest. I couldn't stand to lose you."
The world seemed to tilt beneath Aelor's feet. For a moment, he was speechless, the weight of Rylan's words crashing over him like a wave. It was the last thing he had expected, and for a brief instant, all his anger was replaced by a stunned silence.
But then, a surge of emotions Aelor couldn't quite name—anger, confusion, fear—rose up inside him. He pulled his arm free from Rylan's grasp, stepping back as if the confession had burned him. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, Rylan. This isn't… I can't."
Rylan's face fell, pain flashing in his eyes. "Aelor, please," he pleaded, reaching out again, but Aelor stepped further back, his expression hardening like a mask.
"Don't," Aelor snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. "You don't understand. I can't be what you want. I have too many demons, too many shadows. This—whatever you think this is—it can't happen. I'm sorry."
Rylan stood there, his outstretched hand trembling before he let it fall to his side. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the crackle of the lantern's flame. Finally, with a look of utter heartbreak, Rylan nodded. "I understand," he said, though his voice was barely a whisper.
Aelor turned away, unable to bear the pain in his friend's eyes. "You should go," he said, his voice cold and distant. "Tell the Council I won't be waiting for their orders. I'll do what I must, with or without their blessing."
Rylan hesitated for a moment, as if he might try to speak again, but then he turned on his heel and walked out into the night. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Aelor slammed the door shut, the echo of the wood reverberating in the small cabin. His hands were shaking, his heart a twisted knot of regret and confusion.
He leaned his back against the door, sliding down to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down on him. The threat of dark magic, the Council's betrayal, Rylan's confession—it was all too much. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing the world to make sense, but all he felt was a hollow ache where certainty used to be.
For a long while, Aelor stayed there, the darkness of the cabin matching the turmoil in his soul. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the distant cries of creatures fleeing from a threat unseen. The night had never felt so cold, nor so lonely.