The Forbidden House
In the forgotten village of Eldermire, nestled between whispering forests and misty hills, there stood a house no one dared approach. It loomed on the farthest edge of the village, crooked and cloaked in vines, its windows like blind eyes and its doors sealed by rusted chains. The villagers called it The Forbidden House.
Legend told of a sorceress named Alara who once lived there. She was not evil, but strange, speaking to shadows and stars, and dancing in moonlight with creatures no one else could see. One night, lightning struck her tower. When the flames died, Alara was gone—and the house sealed itself shut. Ever since, birds refused to fly over it, and no flower would grow near its crumbling gate.
But Elric, a curious boy of fourteen winters, didn't believe in curses.
"Old tales to keep children from wandering," he muttered one misty morning, gripping a lantern as he crept past the weeping willow that marked the village's edge.
He had found a map tucked into the pages of a book in the village library. It showed a secret entrance into the house through a hidden cellar. His heart pounded with fear and excitement as he reached the house. The gate groaned open as though sighing after a hundred years of silence.
The garden was wild and overgrown, thorns like claws. The air smelled of dust and forgotten magic. He found the cellar door beneath a moss-covered slab. With effort, he pried it open, and cold air whooshed out like a breath long held.
Torchlight flickered against walls lined with jars of glowing herbs, strange skulls, and floating stones. A staircase led upward into the heart of the house. He climbed slowly, every creak of wood echoing like thunder.
The parlor was frozen in time. A teacup hovered in the air mid-fall, books floated gently between shelves, and candles burned without wax or flame. At the center stood a mirror, tall and golden, its surface shimmering like water.
Drawn to it, Elric reached out. The mirror rippled, and his reflection spoke.
"You are not welcome," it hissed, eyes glowing violet.
"I mean no harm," Elric said, trembling. "I only wanted to know the truth."
The mirror pulsed, then shifted. A new image formed—a young woman in a cloak of stars, dancing in the garden with creatures of light. Alara.
"She was betrayed," the mirror whispered. "The villagers feared her, so they cursed her name. But her spirit remains… waiting."
Suddenly, the room darkened. Wind howled through the walls. The house began to shake.
"You have awakened her," the mirror groaned. "You must finish what she began… or be lost with her forever."
The floor split beneath him, and Elric tumbled through darkness, landing softly in a chamber of glowing roots and humming crystals. At its center was a pedestal with a glowing orb.
"Restore the Heart," a voice echoed—Alara's voice. "Free the house."
Elric touched the orb. It blazed with light, rushing into the walls like lightning in veins. The roots pulsed, the house groaned—and then… silence.
When Elric awoke, the house was still. The air was warm. The chains on the door had fallen, and the vines had bloomed into flowers. A soft voice sang in the wind.
He stepped outside. The sky was clear. The birds had returned.
Back in Eldermire, the villagers were stunned to see him alive. And more stunned when they followed him and saw the house—alive, renewed, beautiful.
The elders wept. "We were wrong," they whispered.
Elric told them the truth: Alara had never been evil. She had only wanted to protect the world from the magic inside her house—and now, that magic was in safe hands.
From that day on, the Forbidden House became The Guardian's House. And Elric… was its new keeper.