The morning was calm, the kind of quiet that Elysara had grown used to over the years. She stepped outside with her basket, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders against the crisp morning air. The garden stretched before her, vibrant and orderly, each plant thriving under the care of her grandmother's practiced hands and, in some cases, the faint touch of magic.
Elysara moved along the rows, her fingers brushing over the leaves as she inspected them. She stopped in front of a patch of moonlace, its silvery-white flowers usually pulsing faintly with a soft glow.
Her brow furrowed.
The plants looked dull, their luminous petals dimmed and edges curling. Elysara knelt, touching one of the stems. It crumbled slightly under her fingertips, a thing that should have been impossible. Moonlace was a hardy plant, especially when nourished by magic.
She whispered a simple spell under her breath, hoping to reinvigorate the wilting flowers, but nothing happened.
Nearby, a cluster of wolfsbane, 'a plant infused with protective magic' also looked off. Its vibrant purple blooms were fading, turning an ashen gray. Elysara glanced around the garden, the unease in her chest deepening.
"Aureth will know what to do," she murmured to herself, though the thought offered little comfort.
Her attention was drawn to a sudden, faint rustling sound. She stood, her eyes scanning the trees at the garden's edge. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, from the shadows, a soft glow emerged.
A creature stepped into view, its slender body covered in a shimmering coat that shifted colors like the surface of water catching sunlight. Its flowing tendrils, almost like living silk, cascaded down its frame, moving as if stirred by an unseen breeze. Towering, gnarled antlers crowned its head, adorned with faintly glowing strands of light that pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of the earth. Its eyes glowed faintly, intelligent and piercing, holding a depth of ancient wisdom and quiet sorrow.
Elysara's breath caught.
It was a Nyrren, a guardian of magical balance, a creature so rare that most believed them to be myths. As it stepped closer, its long, sinuous tail swept gracefully behind it, trailing a faint, misty luminescence. The Nyrren's presence radiated an ethereal power, filling the air with a soft hum that seemed to resonate with the magic of the land itself.
The Nyrren tilted its head, watching her intently. Slowly, it stepped closer, each movement as fluid as flowing water. Elysara dared not move, unsure if the creature would see her as a threat.
"Why are you here?" she whispered, though she didn't expect an answer.
The Nyrren paused near the wolfsbane, lowering its head to sniff the withering plant. Its glow dimmed slightly as if in mourning. It raised its head to look at her again, and for a brief moment, she felt as though it was trying to tell her something, something urgent.
"Is this happening everywhere?" Elysara asked, her voice trembling.
The Nyrren blinked slowly, its eyes reflecting a quiet sadness. Then, without a sound, it turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving behind an unnerving silence.
Elysara stayed rooted in place, her thoughts racing. Something was deeply wrong, not just with her garden but with the magic of the land itself.
The creak of the cottage door broke her reverie.
"Elysara?" Her grandmother's voice, tinged with concern, called out.
Aureth approached, her eyes narrowing as she took in Elysara's pallor and the neglected basket at her feet.
"Child, what has happened?"
Elysara straightened quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite feel right. Her heart was still racing, the image of the Nyrren's mournful eyes burned into her mind. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She couldn't tell Aureth about the creature, about the way everything felt wrong. Her grandmother had enough to worry about already.
"Oh, it's nothing," she said, her voice wavering despite her best efforts. "The moonlace and wolfsbane must just be reacting to the shift in the weather. It's nothing to worry about. I'll—I'll take care of them later." She gave a careless shrug, but her hands were trembling at her sides. She glanced down at the basket she'd dropped in her rush, the simple motion grounding her for a moment. "I was just… lost in thought, that's all."
Aureth's gaze softened, but Elysara could see the sharpness in her eyes, the way they noticed every small detail. She always had. Her grandmother was perceptive, far too perceptive. And yet, Elysara couldn't bring herself to explain. To share the depth of what she'd felt, what she'd seen.
The older woman stepped closer, her expression softening into concern. "Elysara…" Her voice was gentle, but there was an edge to it, like she knew there was more. "You don't have to hide it from me. If something's troubling you, you know I'm here for you."
Elysara's chest tightened. It would be so easy to crumble, to let the weight of it all spill out—everything she had felt when the Nyrren's gaze had locked with hers. The power it radiated, the sorrow in its eyes. How could she explain it? How could she tell Aureth about the magic she couldn't understand, the warning that hung heavy in the air?
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the tumult of emotions threatening to break through. The smile she gave her grandmother this time was more genuine, though it still didn't quite reach her eyes. She couldn't hide everything, but she had to hide this. She had to be strong.
"It's nothing," Elysara said again, more firmly this time, though her voice still trembled. "Really. It's just the change in the season. The plants are adjusting, that's all. I'll take care of it."
Aureth studied her for a long moment, her sharp gaze searching her face, lingering on the way Elysara's hands twitched, as though they were still trying to hold onto something that wasn't there. Something that she couldn't explain.
But then, with a slow sigh, Aureth relented. "Very well, child." She stepped closer and placed a warm hand on Elysara's shoulder. It was grounding, steady, but also a reminder of how much her grandmother cared. "Just… don't keep things to yourself too long, all right? You don't have to carry it alone."
The words hit Elysara harder than she expected. A lump rose in her throat, and she had to fight to keep her voice steady. "I won't," she whispered. "I'll be careful."
Aureth nodded, though her eyes were still shadowed with concern. "I know you will."
As her grandmother turned back toward the cottage, Elysara stayed rooted to the spot, the weight of her own secret pressing down on her chest. The image of the Nyrren flickered in her mind again—the way its eyes had held such depth, such sorrow, as though it had seen something terrible. A warning. She couldn't ignore it. She couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong.
She glanced back toward the cottage, where her grandmother had already disappeared inside. Elysara's hand curled around the necklace her mother had given her so long ago, a small act of comfort, though even that didn't quell the rising dread inside her.