The morning sun filtered through the canopy as Lith crouched on the mossy stone at their meeting place, the very spot where he and Abella always found each other. He waited, ears tuned to every rustle, golden eyes scanning every branch. But the forest was empty.
Hours passed. Still, no Abella.
Unease knotted in his chest. With a low growl, Lith leapt into motion, sprinting through the forest paths he knew like the back of his hand. He followed the familiar routes toward her village, his claws gouging bark as he vaulted from tree to tree. But when he reached the border… the trail was gone.
The entrance that should have led to her people was nothing but more endless forest. He tried again, circling wide, then doubling back, but each time the path curved back in on itself. Even Eloren's house, the little garden where he and Abella had once laughed was gone, like it had never existed.
Breathing hard, Lith dropped to the roots of a great oak, his claws sinking into the soil in frustration.
"Where are you, Abella…?"
The ground trembled slightly, and from the shadows stepped the forest lord: the black stag with golden antlers, his eyes aglow with ancient wisdom. Lith stood quickly and bowed, but his voice cracked with desperation.
"Lord of the Forest… she's gone. Abella. Her people. I waited, but she never came. I searched, but the village isn't there anymore. I can't find Eloren, I can't find anyone. It's like they vanished."
The stag lowered his head, sniffing the air, his antlers shimmering with a faint magical hum. His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"They are not gone, young Veythros… they are hidden."
Lith blinked, fists clenching. "Hidden? How?"
The stag's eyes narrowed, scanning the space around them. "The elves have wrapped themselves in a spatial veil. Their kingdom is still here, but the path to it has been severed. To us, it is as though a room exists but when you try to step into it, you appear on the other side without ever entering. Only the elves know how to weave such wards."
"So… they're still here. Abella is still here." Lith's voice was rough, caught between relief and fury.
His jaw tightened, golden eyes burning with anguish. He turned his gaze to the treetops where he and Abella once laughed, once kissed. His claws dug deeper into his palms.
"They can hide her… but they can't make me forget her."
The stag nodded slowly. "Yes. But this magic is ancient, wrought only in times of great decision. If they have done this… then the elves of Airevein have chosen to close themselves off from the world."
Lith's heart stopped cold at the stag's words.
"Closed off… forever?"
The air felt heavy around him, his chest tightening as if the very forest had conspired to suffocate him.
"No… no, that can't be!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
In an instant, his form rippled, flesh and bone shifting. The black panther burst forward, golden markings burning like fire as Lith sprinted through the trees. His paws pounded the earth, claws tearing grooves into the soil, his burning aura flickering behind him like a dying star.
He didn't stop until the walls of the Veythros estate loomed before him. Vaulting over them in a blur of black and gold, he skidded across the cobblestones and slammed against the doors of his father's study.
"Father!" he roared, half-shifting back into human form, his chest heaving, hair wild with sweat. "The elves! They're gone! They sealed themselves away I can't find Abella, I can't find Eloren, nothing! The stag lord said it's their magic....help me…please!"
Rokash Veythros left his scrolls and alchemical papers untouched. He rose to his full height, his golden eyes sharp, though shadowed with weariness. Seeing his son's desperation lit something deep in him. Wordlessly, he gripped Lith's shoulder, steady and firm.
"Show me."
Together, father and son returned to the forest. Lith's panic made his movements erratic, but Rokash followed with calm, every step carrying the weight of his authority. At last, the stag lord appeared again, bowing his golden-crowned head.
"The boy speaks the truth," the stag intoned, his voice solemn. "The elves have sealed themselves away."
Rokash closed his eyes, extending his senses, weaving mana through the air like golden threads. He walked forward slowly, hand outstretched. For a fleeting moment, Lith thought, maybe, maybe he'll tear it down, maybe he can force it open.
But Rokash's hand met only empty air. His golden aura bent, then dissipated, unable to pierce the veil. The Duke's voice rumbled low, final.
"They are still here… but not for us. Their magic is older than my bloodline, older than this kingdom. If they've chosen to hide, then nothing in our power can bring them out."
Lith staggered back, golden eyes wide, claws trembling. "So… so that's it? I'll never see her again?"
Rokash looked down at his son, his voice heavy, thunder softened by sorrow.
"For now, Lith… yes. There is nothing we can do."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the whisper of leaves. Lith's chest heaved as the truth pressed into him, heavier than any battle. The black stag lowered his head once more, as if in mourning.
The boy who had once held Abella in the grass, who had kissed her beneath the great tree, could do nothing but grit his teeth as the forest itself seemed to close around him.
Lith's breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving as his father's words sank in.
"No… no, I won't accept this."
Dark fire rippled around his body as his form twisted, stretching. Black fur erupted along his arms, claws lengthening into jagged blades. His golden eyes burned, molten with anguish, as he shifted into his hybrid form, a man-shaped panther cloaked in flame.
He roared, the sound shaking the trees. "NO! You can't take her from me!"
Lith lunged at the invisible wall, claws swiping, tearing each strike carving nothing but air. The forcefield shimmered faintly where his energy touched it, but it remained unbroken, unmoved, as if mocking his fury.
"My baby!" he cried, his voice breaking. His claws scraped until they bled. "She has our baby! She can't , they can't just disappear!"
His flames sputtered, weakened by despair. Again and again he struck, but each blow passed through the veil as though he were clawing at smoke. The great stag lowered its head mournfully. Rokash stood silently behind, fists clenched, unable to drag his son away from grief he himself could not ease.
At last, Lith's strength gave out. His body shook, claws sinking into the soil as he fell to his knees, sobbing. The fire faded to embers, his voice cracking, torn.
"Abella… please… don't leave me…"
Unseen, just beyond the veil, Abella pressed her palms against the barrier. Her eyes blurred with tears, her cries silent to him, though her body trembled with the same ache. She mouthed his name, over and over, lips shaking.
Beside her, an older elf; her uncle, robed in green and silver, rested a hand on her shoulder. His eyes hardened, watching the boy collapse in agony.
"Your father has closed the gates," he whispered, his voice grim. "But I see now… this cannot end here. If the kingdom will not honor your bond… then I will find a way."
Abella turned to him, cheeks wet, hope flickering faintly through despair. Her uncle's gaze shifted back to Lith, who still clawed helplessly at the unseen wall.
"Your own father conspires to keep you apart," he said, low and certain. "So we shall conspire to bring you back together."
Abella nodded, clutching her stomach protectively, her tears unending. On one side of the veil, a broken boy swore through sobs. On the other, the girl he loved wept in silence, while a new plan began to take root.
Late one night, the elf king's younger brother paced in silence, staring at the glowing barrier that sealed their kingdom from the outside world. His thoughts were heavy with Abella's tears, with the boy clawing at nothing but air, with the unborn child bound between two bloodlines now branded forbidden. He knew he could not tear the barrier down but he could bend it. Distort it. Find a crack where none should exist.
Still, before acting, he sought his brother.
In the high hall of carved roots and glowing sap, the elf king sat upon his living throne, crown of branches aglow with mana. His aquamarine eyes burned cold as his brother entered.
"You test my patience with this talk," the king said. "The matter is settled. My daughter will remain where she belongs."
"She belongs with the one she loves," his brother countered, steady but firm.
"Kaelith is no threat. He is the son of a grand duke. Their bond is not shame, it is strength."
The king's lip curled. "Strength? Or taint? You think I will sully the bloodline of the Great Forest with a beast-kin mongrel?"
His brother clenched his fists but did not yield. "Call it taint if you will but I call it new life. A bridge between peoples. A gift. You dishonor the woman we both called mother with this pride. She would not have condemned love."
The king rose, voice thundering, "Enough! You will not preach to me in my hall."
It was then that Lith and his father Rokash were admitted, allowed audience only by the uncle's urging. Lith's golden eyes flared as he stood before the king of the elves, barely restraining his fury.
"Let me see her," he demanded, voice trembling. "She is carrying my child."
The elf king's eyes narrowed, his aura pressing down like the weight of a storm.
"You are bold to stand in my domain and speak so. Offer your head, boy. Only then might I consider sparing the girl's honor."
Rokash stepped forward at once, voice like low thunder. "Careful, old friend. Do not think to bully my son. You and I fought side by side. You know the worth of my blood."
The king sneered. "Lest you forget Rokash your line is cursed with bestial fire. He will burn everything he touches, and now he has burned my daughter's fate."
At that, Lith's restraint snapped. Flames burst across his arms as black fur rippled into existence, his claws gleaming in the half-light.
His fangs flashed as he growled, "Then why don't I burn you right here and now."
The air split as power met power, the two lords preparing to clash until Rokash seized his son by the shoulder, pulling him back. His golden eyes locked on the king's.
"Listen to yourself! Since when do you measure bloodlines like coin? This is not corruption. This is a gift that unites us. Ask any of our old brothers in arms they would celebrate it. They would call it what it is: a miracle."
But the king's face was stone. He raised his hand, his barrier swelling outward with violent force. In an instant, father and son were hurled back, flung to the very outskirts of the forest. The barrier shimmered anew, denser, colder. A wall between families, between love itself.
Back within, the king whirled on his brother, voice sharp as a blade.
"You shame me with your meddling. Do anything like this again and I will cast you out as well."
But the younger elf did not cower. His gaze was hard, sorrow in his eyes. "Maliah would be disappointed in you. You've become a tyrant in your own grief."
The king turned away, unwilling to hear.
That night, his brother moved through the shadows, cloak drawn tight. He walked to the barrier's edge, where moonlight draped the trees in silver. There, in secret, four hooded figures waited, their faces hidden.
One of them stood taller than the rest, his presence steady and commanding. In the faint glow of the barrier's shimmer, his antlers could almost be seen, the faint outline of the great black stag made flesh.
The uncle lowered his hood, his voice steady as he spoke.
"The king has chosen pride over love. Then we must choose differently. Abella will not be his prisoner. We will free her."
The four figures inclined their heads in silence
The morning sunlight spilled over the manor grounds, but inside Lith's chambers, there was no warmth. Rokash found his son staring blankly at the ceiling, dark circles under his eyes, his once-bright spirit dulled by the night's grief.
"Come," Rokash said, his voice steady though his heart ached. "We'll spar, or hunt, or anything to clear your mind. Brooding won't bring her back."
But Lith only shook his head, his lips trembling as he muttered, "She's gone, Father. And I couldn't protect her or our child, Just leave me be for now."
Rokash's chest tightened, but he forced a smile. He knew the truth there was nothing they could do. Not even the King of Airevein, with all his armies and sorcery, could breach the elves' spatial veil.
Their disappearance had already rippled across the realm. Merchant guilds screamed of lost contracts, noble houses cursed their investments, and whispers already painted blame upon him, Rokash, who had allowed his son to grow too close to the elves.
But none of that could reach Lith. Not now. Rokash swallowed his fury, buried the weight of politics, and sat at the bedside.
"It isn't over yet, son," he lied softly. "The world doesn't end because of one wall, no matter how high."
At that moment, a sudden whoosh of displaced air stirred the curtains. A scroll, sealed in crimson wax, floated through the open window, landing in Rokash's waiting hand. The seal was unmistakable the imperial crest of King Archos himself.