The world dissolved around Nathan like watercolor bleeding into paper. The stone walls of his cell faded, replaced by something vast and ancient, a memory that didn't belong to him but somehow lived in his blood.
He stood in the heart of a forest that defied comprehension. Trees rose like pillars of the earth itself, their trunks wider than houses and their canopies so high they disappeared into mist and clouds. Light filtered through the leaves in golden streams, and the air hummed with magic so thick Nathan could taste it on his tongue.
This wasn't a dream. It was something deeper, something carved into the very essence of what he'd become.
Figures moved through the forest, graceful and ethereal. Elves, but not the broken creatures he'd seen in the slave market.
These were warriors, scholars, craftsmen, their faces proud and free. They wore robes of living leaves and armor of woven vines, and their eyes held the weight of centuries without the hollow emptiness of slavery.
Nathan watched them, his heart aching with a longing he didn't understand. This was what they'd been once, before the chains and the cages. This was the truth that had been stolen from them.
The scene shifted, blurring like smoke caught in a sudden wind. He found himself in a grand hall carved from the heart of an ancient tree, its walls glowing with bioluminescent moss. At the center stood a figure that commanded attention without effort, tall and regal, with hair like spun moonlight and eyes that burned with emerald fire.
"Aelion," Nathan whispered, somehow knowing the name without being told.
The First Elf King stood before a council of robed figures, their faces obscured by shadow. But Nathan could feel their presence, heavy and oppressive, like storm clouds ready to break.
"You have broken the covenant," one of the figures said, their voice echoing with divine authority.
"You have defied the natural order we established. For this transgression, your people will suffer."
Aelion's expression remained calm, but Nathan could see the fire burning beneath the surface. "The natural order you speak of is nothing but chains disguised as law."
"My people deserve the right to choose their own path, to be more than what you've dictated."
"You created males among your kind," another figure accused, their tone dripping with disgust. "You disrupted the balance."
"Elves were meant to be servants, beautiful and eternal, existing to serve the other races. By giving them the power to rule themselves, to breed without our permission, you have committed the gravest sin."
Nathan's stomach turned. Elves are nothing, but servants. That's all the gods had ever seen them as, decorative pieces to be scattered among the other races like gifts.
"Then curse us," Aelion said, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade. "Strip away what you've given."
"But know this, the blood I've awakened will not die. It will sleep, yes, hidden and dormant. But one day, it will return. And when it does, your precious order will burn."
The divine figures raised their hands in unison, and the world exploded into light. Nathan felt the curse wash over the Elves like a tidal wave of divine wrath.
Male Elves began to fade, their bodies unraveling like smoke, their souls scattered to the winds. The females remained, but something vital had been ripped from them, leaving them hollow and vulnerable.
The forest began to wither. Cities crumbled. The proud race that had stood equal to gods was brought to its knees in a single, merciless act.
But Aelion didn't fall. Even as his body began to dissolve, he stood tall, his eyes fixed on something beyond the present.
"My blood will remember," he said, his voice carrying across centuries. "And when the vessel comes, the forest will wake again."
The vision shattered, and Nathan gasped as consciousness slammed back into his body. He was on his knees in the cell, his hands pressed against the cold stone floor, his whole body trembling from the intensity of what he'd just witnessed.
"Now you understand," Aelion's voice whispered through his mind, softer now but no less powerful.
"The curse was meant to erase us from existence, to reduce our people to nothing more than pretty slaves for humanity's amusement."
"But I hid a fragment of my essence, my bloodline, in the very fabric of our race. It took a thousand years, but finally, a vessel worthy of carrying it has been born."
Nathan looked down at his hands, still glowing faintly with that eerie green light. "Why me? I'm not even from this world."
"That's precisely why," Aelion replied.
"Your soul is untainted by this world's rules, unconstrained by its limitations. You carry memories of freedom, of a life where Elves were nothing but stories."
"That makes you perfect. You can become what I could not, a king without the burden of the old ways."
The green light pulsed brighter, and Nathan felt something shift inside him. It was like a door opening in his mind, revealing pathways he'd never known existed.
He could feel the energy flowing through the stone beneath him, the life force of the earth itself. The air around him shimmered with invisible currents of power, waiting to be shaped and molded.
Spirit Magic, Aelion had called it. The ancient art of the Elves, the ability to commune with and command the natural world.
Nathan closed his eyes, reaching out tentatively with this new sense. He could feel everything within a dozen feet, from the moisture clinging to the stone walls to the tiny insects crawling through cracks in the floor. It was overwhelming, like suddenly gaining a sixth sense he had no idea how to control.
"Easy," Aelion cautioned. "The power is raw, untrained."
"Let it flow naturally. Don't try to force it."
Nathan nodded, focusing on his breathing, trying to find some semblance of calm in the chaos. The green light began to fade, sinking back beneath his skin, though he could still feel it there, coiled and ready.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor outside his cell. Heavy boots against stone, accompanied by the jingle of keys and the scrape of metal on metal.
Nathan's eyes snapped open, his newly awakened senses screaming a warning of danger. Whoever was coming wasn't here to check on his wellbeing.
The lock turned with a grinding click, and the door swung open. Three guards stepped inside, their faces twisted with cruel anticipation. The one in front carried a short wooden club studded with iron spikes, and his grin showed several missing teeth.
"Heard you screaming earlier," the guard said, his voice rough as gravel.
"King wants you alive, but he didn't say anything about unharmed. Figure we can have a bit of fun before the scholars get their hands on you."
Nathan's heart hammered against his ribs. He pushed himself to his feet, backing against the far wall. "Stay back."
The guards laughed, a sound that made Nathan's skin crawl. The leader took a step forward, raising his club. "Or what? You'll beg? Go ahead. I like it when they beg."
He swung the club in a vicious arc aimed at Nathan's ribs. Nathan didn't think or plan to resist.
He simply reacted. The green light exploded from his body like a shockwave, filling the cell with blinding radiance. Nathan felt the power surge through him, wild and uncontrolled, reaching out to everything living within range.
The guard's scream was cut short as vines burst from the cracks in the stone floor, wrapping around his legs, his torso, his throat. They moved with terrifying speed, growing impossibly fast, their thorns digging deep into flesh.
The other two guards tried to run, but the vines were already reaching for them. One managed two steps before roots erupted from beneath his feet, coiling around his ankles and yanking him to the ground. The other made it to the doorway before a thick vine caught him around the waist, lifting him into the air.
Nathan watched in horror as the plants tightened their grip, squeezing with relentless force making their bones cracked, and bood splattered against the stone walls. The guards' screams echoed through the dungeon, growing weaker until they finally fell silent.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the power receded. The vines withered and crumbled to dust, leaving behind three mangled corpses and a cell that reeked of blood and death.
Nathan stood frozen, staring at his hands. They were shaking violently, still glowing with faint traces of green light. He could feel the magic retreating back into his core, coiling like a sleeping serpent.
"What have I done?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"You survived," Aelion said simply.
"You protected yourself. That is the first lesson of power, Nathan. Those who seek to harm you will learn to fear you."
Nathan sank to his knees, bile rising in his throat. He'd killed them. Three men, dead by his hand in a matter of seconds.
The logical part of his mind knew they would have tortured him, maybe killed him. But that didn't make the reality of their broken bodies any easier to stomach.
Shouts erupted from somewhere deeper in the dungeon. More guards, responding to the screams. Nathan could hear them coming, their footsteps thundering through the corridor.
He looked down at his hands again, at the fading green glow beneath his skin. The power was real. It terrifyingly uncontrolled, but real. And whether he wanted it or not, there was no going back now.