Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"
Chapter One – Part One
The morning mist clung stubbornly to the hills that surrounded the quiet village of Elarith. It was a place so small that travelers rarely marked it on their maps, a cluster of stone cottages pressed against the wild edges of the northern forest. For most, life in Elarith was simple—farmers tended their crops, shepherds guided their flocks, and children played along the cobbled lanes without fear. To Aurora, however, the village felt like a cage wrapped in fog.
Aurora had lived all her seventeen years within the boundaries of Elarith. Her hair was dark as midnight, a sharp contrast against her pale skin, and her eyes carried an unusual shimmer of silver-blue that often drew whispers from the elders. They said she was "star-touched," a child born beneath an omen in the sky, though no one could recall exactly what the omen had been. Aurora herself had never understood what that meant, but she knew one thing: she was not like the others.
Every night for weeks now, her dreams had been haunted by the same vision. A forest deeper than any she knew, filled with trees so tall their branches pierced the heavens. Strange lights—like fireflies but brighter, sharper—floated between the trunks, guiding her steps to a river of silver water. And always, on the far side of the river, stood a figure cloaked in shadow, calling her name in a voice that echoed like thunder.
When Aurora awoke, the image lingered. The whisper of that voice clung to her ears long after the morning bells rang across the village. She tried to dismiss it, tried to pretend it was only a dream, but the pull in her chest told her otherwise. Something was waiting for her beyond the edges of Elarith, something that would not remain hidden forever.
That morning, as she carried a basket of herbs to the apothecary's shop, she noticed the air felt different. The mist, usually so heavy, seemed alive—curling and shifting as if it carried a mind of its own. The villagers walked by without a glance, but Aurora stopped in her tracks, heart quickening. She thought she saw shapes in the fog, silhouettes that didn't belong: antlers twisting upward, wings unfolding, eyes glowing faintly. When she blinked, they were gone.
"Dreaming again, Aurora?" a voice teased.
She turned to see Kael, her closest friend, leaning casually against a wooden fence. He was broad-shouldered and sun-browned, his smile always a little too confident for someone who had never left the village. "You've got that look," he added, pointing to her expression.
Aurora forced a laugh. "Maybe I am. Or maybe you just don't notice the strange things happening around here."
Kael shrugged. "Strange is normal in Elarith. Haven't you heard the old stories? Ghosts in the forest, spirits in the well, stars that fall and turn into wolves. My grandmother swears she once saw a stag crowned with fire."
"And do you believe her?" Aurora asked, curious.
"I believe she was half-blind and drunk on mead." Kael grinned. "Come on, you'll be late for the apothecary."
She followed him down the lane, though her eyes kept drifting to the mist curling in the corners of the street. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the village stories were more than tales. She could feel it in her bones, in the silver shimmer of her eyes.
The apothecary's shop was a small, cluttered place that smelled of dried lavender and old parchment. Shelves groaned under jars of herbs, roots, and powders, while bundles of plants dangled from the ceiling beams. Mistress Elowen, the apothecary, greeted Aurora with her usual sharp nod.
"You're late," Elowen said, though her wrinkled face softened as she noticed the basket of fresh herbs. "Hm. At least you brought what I needed. Set them there."
Aurora obeyed, but as she placed the basket on the counter, her gaze fell on a curious object half-hidden beneath parchment. It was a small stone, round and smooth, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"What is that?" Aurora asked before she could stop herself.
Elowen followed her eyes and quickly slid the parchment over the stone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Old relic, useless. Now, fetch me the mortar and pestle."
But Aurora's curiosity had already ignited. That glow—it was the same light she saw in her dreams. She wanted to touch it, to feel if it pulsed with warmth, to see if it whispered secrets to her the way the forest did at night. Yet she said nothing, not wanting to anger Elowen further.
The day passed slowly, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her mind. When evening came and the last villagers returned to their homes, Aurora lingered by the edge of the northern forest. The mist had thinned, but a strange glow pulsed between the trees, faint and beckoning.
Her breath caught. It looked exactly like the lights from her dreams.
She took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
The air grew colder as she crossed beneath the first line of trees, the village sounds fading behind her. Leaves whispered secrets overhead, and the glow deepened, guiding her deeper into the woods.
For a long while she walked, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then she reached a clearing where the ground dipped gently toward a small stream. The water shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, so bright it seemed made of liquid starlight. Aurora froze.
It was the river from her dreams.
And across it, standing half-hidden in shadow, was the figure.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Aurora's breath hitched, her entire body trembling. The figure lifted its head slowly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then, in a voice that shook the night air, it spoke her name.
"Aurora…"