The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and the shimmering silver leaves that glowed under the moonlight. The Silverlight Forest felt emptier now, as if the presence of the shadow creatures had drained the life from it.
Arya still stared at his hands, feeling the faint remnants of an unfamiliar energy coursing through his skin. His breathing was uneven. He had just fought—and defeated—something he couldn't even begin to comprehend.
Not because of bravery.
Not because of skill.
But because something inside him knew how to fight them.
In front of him, Lira remained tense, her grip on her dagger still firm, her sharp eyes fixed on Arya.
"Are you going to explain what just happened?" she asked coldly.
Arya swallowed. "I... I don't know."
Lira narrowed her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.
"You spoke an incantation," she said. "A language you're not supposed to understand."
Arya frowned. "An incantation?"
Lira nodded. "I recognized the accent. It was the ancient tongue—the language of the Fatekeepers."
"Fatekeepers?" Arya repeated, feeling the weight of that name, as if it meant more than he could yet grasp.
Lira sheathed her dagger and studied Arya with newfound scrutiny. "We can't talk about this here. You need to come with me."
Arya exhaled. "You've been saying that for a while, but we haven't actually gone anywhere yet."
Lira didn't respond. She simply turned and resumed walking, her pace quicker now.
After what had just happened, Arya had no choice but to follow.
They walked in silence for several minutes. The deeper they went, the more Arya noticed strange things about the forest. The trees seemed to shift subtly, almost leaning toward them, as if listening.
This place wasn't just a forest.
Then, at last, Arya saw something in the distance. Flickering lights, not from the glowing leaves, but from another source—torches arranged in a circular pattern.
At the center stood a village. The houses, built from wood and stone, blended seamlessly with nature, their roofs covered in green moss that merged with the branches of towering trees. Suspended bridges connected the homes among the branches, creating a scene that felt straight out of a fairy tale.
Lira halted at the village's entrance and glanced at Arya. "Don't talk too much. Follow me, and don't stare at anyone for too long."
Arya swallowed. "Why?"
"Not all elves are fond of humans," she replied bluntly before stepping forward.
Arya followed, his eyes scanning the village. Slowly, signs of life emerged—figures appearing from behind buildings, watching him.
Elves.
They varied in height and form, most taller and leaner than humans. But what unsettled Arya was the way they looked at him.
It wasn't just curiosity—it was caution.
Some whispered to one another, while others simply observed with unreadable expressions.
"Great. I've only been in this world for a few hours, and I'm already a suspect."
Lira moved without hesitation toward the village's center, where a larger structure stood. Its wooden walls were etched with intricate carvings, and lanterns made of glowing crystals hung around it, casting a warm glow despite the lingering tension in the air.
Two elven guards, armed with spears, stood at the entrance. Their eyes locked onto Arya before turning to Lira.
"Who is this human?" one of them asked.
Lira lifted her chin slightly. "I need to bring him to Elder Eltheris. It's urgent."
The guards exchanged glances before nodding and stepping aside.
Lira gestured for Arya to follow.
As they entered, Arya was immediately greeted by the scent of burning wood and herbs. The dim blue light of suspended crystals bathed the room in an otherworldly calm, though it did little to ease the nervous energy rising in his chest.
At the center of the chamber sat an elderly elf, resting upon a throne-like chair woven from the roots of a great tree. His hair was pure white, his eyes a deep, clear blue, filled with an ageless wisdom.
The elder studied Arya for a long moment before finally speaking.
"A human," his voice was deep and gentle, yet carried undeniable authority. "It is rare for your kind to set foot in this place."
Arya swallowed hard. "I… I didn't mean to come here."
A faint smile crossed the elder's lips. "No one ever means to come to Eldoria. And yet, those who arrive always carry something greater than themselves."
Arya had no idea how to respond.
Lira stepped forward. "Elder, he spoke an ancient incantation while fighting the shadow creatures. He could see their weaknesses."
Elder Eltheris raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to something far more serious. "Is that true?"
Arya hesitated before nodding. "I don't know how… it just happened."
The elder observed him, his gaze deep and piercing, as if looking through Arya rather than at him.
Finally, he spoke.
"You are no ordinary human."
Arya stiffened.
Eltheris continued, "We must confirm something. Lira, take him to the Chamber of Light."
Lira nodded without question.
Arya frowned. "Wait, what are you going to do to me?"
The elder offered a knowing smile. "Calm yourself. If you truly are who we suspect, you will soon find the answers you never realized you were searching for."
Arya glanced at Lira, hoping for some form of explanation, but she only returned his look with the same unwavering stare before saying,
"Come."
Arya sighed. He had no idea what awaited him next, but one thing was clear—he was no longer just a lost human in a foreign world.
He was someone whose truth needed to be uncovered.
And that truth awaited him in the Chamber of Light.