The Forest of Eldryn shimmered beneath the light of the full moon, its ancient trees standing like silent witnesses to the passing of countless centuries. Silver rays filtered through the vast canopy, illuminating winding paths and forgotten ruins hidden beneath roots older than many kingdoms. To the elves, Eldryn was sacred ground. To travelers, it was a place of beauty and mystery. To those who knew the darker truths of the world, however, it was a forest where even the shadows remembered.
A silver carriage moved quietly along one of its secluded roads.
The vehicle was neither extravagant nor heavily adorned, yet its craftsmanship alone revealed its importance. Elegant elven runes glowed faintly across its surface, while a contingent of elite guards rode alongside it, their eyes constantly searching the darkness beyond the trees.
Inside sat Queen Lythariel.
Throughout the Elven Realm, her name was spoken with admiration and reverence. She was a ruler whose wisdom had preserved peace during turbulent times and whose magical talent had become the subject of countless songs. Some called her the Moon Queen. Others claimed she was the greatest mage born among the elves in centuries.
Tonight, however, none of those titles mattered.
For at this moment, she was not thinking about politics, diplomacy, or the countless responsibilities that came with wearing a crown.
She was simply a mother.
Cradled gently in her arms rested a sleeping child wrapped in soft silver cloth embroidered with the crest of the royal family. The boy's tiny fingers occasionally twitched as he slept, unaware of the dangers that existed beyond the safety of his mother's embrace.
A warm smile appeared on Lythariel's face.
Slowly, she brushed a strand of silver hair away from the infant's forehead.
"You look more like him every day," she whispered.
The child stirred slightly but did not wake.
For a brief moment, memories surfaced within her heart.
A gentle smile beneath a star-filled sky.
A promise exchanged in secret.
A man whose presence still lingered in her thoughts despite the years that had passed.
The pain of that memory remained, but so did the warmth.
The child before her was proof that some bonds endured beyond separation.
"You have his eyes," she murmured softly. "Perhaps his stubbornness as well."
The infant responded with a quiet sound that almost resembled laughter.
Lythariel could not help but smile.
No royal court.
No grand palace.
No victory achieved throughout her long life had ever brought her a peace comparable to this simple moment.
Unfortunately, peace rarely lasted.
The first sign was silence.
The horses continued forward, their hooves striking the road with steady rhythm, yet something felt wrong.
The wind had stopped.
The leaves no longer rustled.
Even the countless insects that filled Eldryn every night had fallen strangely quiet.
One of the guards frowned.
His hand slowly moved toward the sword at his waist.
Lythariel noticed the subtle movement immediately.
Her smile faded.
Then the ground exploded.
The road shattered beneath the carriage as a violent shockwave erupted from below. Stone and earth were thrown into the air, while terrified horses screamed and reared back. The carriage tilted dangerously as guards shouted warnings.
Before the dust could settle, figures emerged from the darkness.
Dozens at first.
Then hundreds.
Black-cloaked assassins poured from between the trees like a tide of living shadows.
The royal guards reacted instantly.
Steel left its sheath.
Mana surged.
Protective formations were established within seconds.
Lythariel stepped from the carriage, the child still held securely in her arms.
The moment her feet touched the ground, the atmosphere changed.
Golden light erupted around her.
Ancient runes appeared in the air one after another, illuminating the forest with dazzling brilliance. The very mana of the surroundings responded to her presence, gathering around her as though acknowledging its queen.
For a brief instant, hesitation appeared among the attackers.
No matter how well prepared they were, standing before Lythariel was enough to inspire fear.
Her violet eyes swept across the battlefield.
"Who sent you?" she asked calmly.
No answer came.
Only movement.
The assassins attacked.
Golden light descended from the heavens.
The first wave disappeared instantly.
Explosions echoed through the forest as divine magic tore through the attackers. Trees shattered. The earth cracked. Entire sections of the battlefield vanished beneath torrents of radiant energy.
Yet Lythariel's expression only grew more serious.
Something was wrong.
Far too many enemies had willingly thrown themselves into certain death.
This was not an assassination attempt.
It was a distraction.
The realization had barely formed in her mind when she felt it.
A pulse.
Cold.
Ancient.
Wrong.
Her gaze immediately shifted toward the rear of the enemy formation.
There, surrounded by several masked figures, stood a lone individual carrying an object wrapped in black cloth.
The moment the cloth was removed, Lythariel's blood ran cold.
An ancient seal.
A relic that should not have existed.
A weapon forged during one of the darkest periods of history.
A weapon designed specifically to suppress and imprison magical power.
"No..." she whispered.
The figure slammed the relic into the ground.
Dark energy erupted outward.
The effect was immediate.
The runes surrounding Lythariel flickered violently.
The golden mana that had illuminated the battlefield began to weaken.
For the first time that night, genuine alarm appeared in her eyes.
The seal was working.
It was impossible.
Yet it was happening.
The mana obeying her commands moments earlier now felt distant, as though an invisible barrier had been placed between herself and the world.
The attackers surged forward once more.
This time, however, they ignored the guards.
They ignored the Queen.
Their eyes were fixed upon a single target.
The child.
Lythariel immediately understood.
Everything.
The ambush.
The sacrifices.
The seal.
The overwhelming numbers.
They had never come to kill her.
They had come for her son.
"Protect the prince!" she shouted.
The guards moved instantly.
Unfortunately, the enemy had already anticipated every response.
A shadow moved through the battlefield with unnatural speed.
One moment the child remained safely within Lythariel's arms.
The next—
He was gone.
Time seemed to stop.
The warmth she had felt moments earlier vanished.
Her arms were empty.
The world became silent.
"No..."
The word escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Several meters away stood a hooded figure holding the infant.
The child had awakened.
His cries echoed through the battlefield.
Lythariel's heart shattered.
"No!"
The scream that followed carried none of a queen's dignity.
It carried only the terror of a mother.
Golden mana erupted around her with such violence that dozens of assassins were obliterated instantly. Trees were uprooted. The earth split apart.
But she was too late.
The hooded figures activated a teleportation artifact.
Space distorted.
Reality twisted.
One by one, the attackers vanished.
Lythariel lunged forward desperately, reaching toward the child.
Toward her son.
Toward the last piece of the man she had loved.
Her fingers touched nothing.
The battlefield fell silent.
They were gone.
Only destruction remained.
The seal's influence gradually weakened as its power dissipated.
The surviving guards slowly rose to their feet.
No one dared speak.
No one dared approach their queen.
Lythariel stood motionless amidst the ruins.
Her hands trembled.
The place where her son had been moments earlier now felt unbearably empty.
For the first time in many years, tears flowed freely down her face.
She had lost battles.
She had lost friends.
She had even lost the man she loved.
Yet none of those wounds compared to this.
The Queen of the Elves lowered her head.
Not as a ruler.
Not as a legend.
But as a mother who had just lost her child.
Minutes passed.
Then she slowly raised her gaze toward the heavens.
The sorrow in her eyes had changed.
It had become something far more dangerous.
Determination.
Golden mana surged around her once more, brighter than before.
The very forest trembled beneath the pressure.
"They took everything from me."
Her voice echoed through the ruined battlefield.
"They took him."
The clouds above parted as countless streams of golden light rose into the sky.
"No matter where they run."
The earth shook.
"No matter how long it takes."
The stars themselves seemed to dim beneath her fury.
"I will find them."
It was not a threat.
It was a promise.
And promises made by Lythariel were rarely broken.
Far away, deep within the most dangerous regions of Eldryn, reality distorted as a teleportation artifact completed its journey.
The assassins emerged among ancient trees untouched by civilization.
The infant's cries filled the darkness.
One of the younger assassins glanced toward the child.
"What do we do with him?"
The leader remained silent for several moments.
His gaze lingered upon the infant.
Then he sighed.
"If we kill him, she will know."
No further explanation was necessary.
Every person present understood who he meant.
Even weakened by the seal, Lythariel remained one of the most terrifying beings alive.
The leader approached the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking a region known even among adventurers as a place of certain death.
Monsters ruled these lands.
Ancient creatures wandered freely through its depths.
Few who entered ever returned.
Without another word, he placed the infant upon the ground.
The younger assassin frowned.
"You're just leaving him here?"
"The forest will decide his fate."
The answer was cold.
Final.
Moments later, the assassins disappeared.
The child was alone.
Cold winds swept through the darkness.
The cries continued.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
No one came.
Until the monsters began to flee.
One after another, predators that ruled these lands retreated into the shadows as a terrifying presence approached.
The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
A tall figure emerged from the darkness.
His crimson eyes glowed beneath the moonlight.
His presence carried the weight of centuries.
Power radiated from him so naturally that even the surrounding mana seemed reluctant to approach.
Kael'Thar.
A name capable of making kings lose sleep.
A being feared throughout lands most humans did not even know existed.
He stopped before the child.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then the infant looked up.
Instead of crying, he reached out a tiny hand.
Kael'Thar raised an eyebrow.
Most creatures feared him.
This child did not.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Slowly, he crouched and lifted the infant into his arms.
The moment he did, his crimson eyes narrowed.
There was something unusual about this boy.
Something beyond his appearance.
Beyond the traces of elven mana.
Beyond the circumstances of his abandonment.
Something hidden.
Something that did not belong.
For the first time in centuries, genuine curiosity stirred within Kael'Thar's heart.
"A human child..." he murmured.
The infant yawned.
Then, as though completely unconcerned by his situation, fell asleep against his chest.
A faint smile appeared on the demon lord's face.
Perhaps fate had finally decided to entertain him.
Turning toward the darkness, Kael'Thar disappeared into the depths of Eldryn.
Neither he nor the sleeping child knew it yet.
But on that night, beneath the ancient trees of a forgotten forest, the course of the world had begun to change.