The ground shuddered beneath their feet. Branches trembled as if in fear, and the golden veins of Isolde's power pulsed brighter, answering something older, deeper.
The soldiers froze, their torches sputtering. Even the hounds cowered, whining low as though they recognized the force awakening around them.
From the shadowed depths of the forest came a sound like stone grinding against stone, slow and terrible. A shape emerged between the trees—massive, towering, more root and rock than flesh. Its eyes glowed a pale silver, the same hue as the moon that threaded through the canopy.
Isolde's breath caught. "By the gods…"
Kael raised his sword, though his hand trembled. He had heard the legends—everyone had—but to see it living was another thing entirely.
The Guardian of the Silverwood.
It loomed like a walking oak, bark for skin, moss trailing from limbs thicker than columns. The air thrummed with its presence, every breath a groan of ancient power. When it moved, the forest moved with it, trees bending as if bowing to their master.
The soldiers broke first. "Retreat!" one shouted, panic cracking his voice. "It's the forest-spirit!"
But the Guardian's voice rolled over them, deeper than thunder, resonant as the earth's own pulse.
"Children of shadow… you defile these woods."
The soldiers dropped their torches, fleeing in terror. The hounds scattered, tails tucked, whimpers fading into the distance. Only Kael and Isolde remained, caught in the gaze of the ancient being.
Isolde fell to her knees, light still sparking faintly from her palms. She felt its power ripple through her veins, not in conflict, but in resonance. As though her gift was kin to its ancient song.
Kael stepped in front of her, sword lowered but still ready. "If you mean us harm, spirit, then take me, not her."
The Guardian's silver gaze shifted, regarding him. Then its voice rumbled again, slow and heavy.
"You… bear the blood of kings. And you…" Its gaze fell upon Isolde, and for the first time, the vast creature bent lower, roots groaning as it knelt. "…bear the flame that was lost."
Isolde's heart hammered. "What do you mean?"
The Guardian's massive hand pressed into the soil, and the ground bloomed with faint light. A sigil appeared, etched in roots and stone—a crescent moon entwined with fire.
"The curse rises. The Shadow King stirs. Only when moon and flame walk together can darkness be broken."
Kael frowned, tension flickering across his face. "You speak in riddles."
The Guardian's head tilted, the sound of creaking wood filling the air. "Not riddles. Warnings."
Its gaze burned into Isolde, and she felt its weight like chains of destiny tightening around her.
"You cannot run from what you are, child of flame. The kingdom's fate is bound to your hands… and to his."
The forest fell silent again, the Guardian's form dissolving back into roots and earth until only trees stood where it had been.
Kael exhaled, lowering his blade. His eyes met hers, pale as frost against her trembling fire.
And in that silence, both knew: their paths had just been sealed.
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