The village of Liranthal was a quiet place, nestled in a valley surrounded by dense forests. Its people lived simple lives, relying on the land and the faint traces of magic that flowed through it. Magic was a rare gift, passed down through generations, and used sparingly to protect the crops, heal the sick, and ward off the occasional beast that wandered too close to the village. It was a fragile existence, but it was enough.
Elyra stood at the edge of the village, her bare feet sinking into the cool, damp grass. She was young, barely eighteen, with long, dark hair that fell in waves down her back and eyes the color of storm clouds. In her hands, she cradled a small, glowing orb of light—a simple spell, one of the few she had mastered. The orb flickered weakly, casting faint shadows on the ground. Magic had always been difficult for her to control, but tonight, it felt even more unstable than usual.
The air was heavy, unnaturally still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Elyra frowned, her gaze drifting upward to the sky. The moon, usually a bright beacon in the night, was dimmed, its light swallowed by an encroaching darkness. She had never seen anything like it. The stars, too, seemed to fade, one by one, until the sky was a void of black.
A chill ran down her spine.
"Elyra!" a voice called from behind her. She turned to see her younger brother, Tavin, running toward her. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. "Something's wrong. The animals—they're acting strange. The chickens won't stop squawking, and the dogs are howling like they've seen a ghost."
Elyra's grip tightened on the orb of light. "It's not just the animals," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Look at the sky."
Tavin followed her gaze, his breath catching in his throat. "What... what is that?"
Before Elyra could answer, a low, guttural growl echoed through the forest. The sound sent a shiver through her, and she instinctively stepped closer to Tavin. The orb in her hands flickered again, its light dimming further.
"Get back to the house," Elyra said, her voice firm despite the fear clawing at her chest. "Now."
Tavin hesitated, his eyes darting toward the forest. "But—"
"Go!" Elyra snapped, shoving him toward the village. "Find Father. Tell him to gather everyone. Something's coming."
Tavin nodded, his face pale, and took off running toward the village. Elyra watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest. The growl came again, louder this time, and she turned to face the forest. The trees seemed to sway unnaturally, their shadows stretching and twisting as if alive. The darkness was spreading, creeping toward the village like a predator stalking its prey.
Elyra raised the orb of light, her hands trembling. "Stay back," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was speaking to the shadows or to herself.
The shadows didn't listen.
They surged forward, a wave of blackness that swallowed the light whole. Elyra stumbled backward, the orb in her hands snuffing out as if it had never existed. Panic gripped her, and she turned to run, but the shadows were faster. They wrapped around her ankles, pulling her to the ground. She screamed, clawing at the dirt as the darkness dragged her toward the forest.
"Elyra!" Her father's voice cut through the chaos, but it was too late. The shadows yanked her into the trees, and the world went black.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the forest. She was in a clearing, surrounded by figures cloaked in black. Their faces were hidden beneath hoods, but she could feel their eyes on her, cold and calculating. Her hands were bound, and her magic—what little she had—felt distant, unreachable.
One of the figures stepped forward, a tall man with a voice like gravel. "This one has potential," he said, his gaze lingering on Elyra. "Take her to the camp. The Master will want to see her."
Elyra struggled against her bonds, but it was no use. The figures closed in around her, their hands rough as they dragged her to her feet. She caught a glimpse of the village in the distance, or what was left of it. Flames licked at the sky, and the screams of her people echoed in her ears.
"Father... Tavin..." she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
The man in the hood leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. "Forget them," he said. "You belong to the Shadow Hunters now."
And with that, Elyra's world went dark once more