Spring always arrived in the village with a ghostly silence.
When Kael opened his eyes that morning, he was greeted by the soft melody of birds drifting through the open window. Outside, branches swayed gently in the breeze, casting pale, dancing shadows across the wooden floor. Everything felt familiar—simple, peaceful, and rhythmic.
His mother was already awake. The steam rising from the kettle on the hearth filled the room with the scent of fresh herbs and the faint, acrid tang of woodfire.
The breakfast spread on the small table was as modest as ever: a freshly baked loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and the honeyed herbal tea his mother prepared—a lingering habit from her days in the Eastern Kingdom. As Kael looked at her, he couldn't help but notice her growing pallor. Lately, she grew weary more quickly, and her cough lingered longer than it once had.
"Are you heading to the forest again today?" she asked, her hands trembling slightly as she set a bowl of warm soup before him. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an undercurrent of unspoken dread.
Kael nodded. "You said certain herbs are most potent this time of year, Mother. I need to find those purple-flowered stalks to soothe your chest."
His mother took a deep breath and sat across from him. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Kael's hands—fingers calloused from chopping wood. "Do not venture too far, Kael," she whispered. "The winds from the Northeast have been restless. Travelers from the Central Kingdom speak of troubling things. They say a certain... unease has taken root in the depths of the woods."
Kael offered a reassuring smile, brushing it off as one of her usual anxieties. "I know that forest like the back of my hand, Mother. No tree there would ever wish me harm."
"It is not the trees I fear, my son," she said, her gaze drifting toward the window, as if looking back at the magnificent Eastern cities she had abandoned years ago. "Sometimes, destiny uses the forest as a mere excuse to find you. Your father... he loved the woods too. But the forest does not always offer peace."
Kael's spoon hovered in mid-air. His mother rarely spoke of his father. "Won't you tell me more about him?"
A sudden fit of coughing cut her off. She stood up abruptly. "It grows late, Kael. Go, but see that you return before the shadows of evening take hold."
Kael nodded. His mother had taught him the secrets of healing plants since he was a child. She never spoke of how she came to this village from the East, but her knowledge was far from ordinary. She used no Light Magic, yet she could mend wounds, break fevers, and restore the body's balance with a grace that felt almost supernatural.
After breakfast, Kael stepped out.
The forest stood at the edge of the village, a familiar companion since his childhood. He knew every path, every shadow, and the secret haunts of every creature. He knew almost every leaf—until he saw it.
A purple butterfly drifted past his eyes.
Kael froze. He had never seen such a color in nature. The butterfly seemed to slow down intentionally, as if aware it had snared his curiosity. Without realizing it, he began to follow.
One step... then another.
He didn't notice when the familiar landmarks faded away. Here, the trees grew taller, their gnarled branches weaving a canopy that choked out the sun. The air turned cold, and the silence grew heavy.
Then, Kael stopped.
Sitting on a fallen log was a girl.
She looked to be about his age. Her ears were pointed, reminiscent of an elf's, but her skin and hair were unlike any elf he had ever heard of. Crescent moon tattoos shimmered on her face and arms. Her ash-gray hair fell over her shoulders, and her brown eyes sparked with a guarded flicker.
For the first time in his life, Kael was looking at someone not of his kind.
He took a small, hesitant step forward. "Hello," he said softly. "I'm Kael."
The girl startled, recoiling slightly. Kael stayed perfectly still.
"I don't mean any harm," he said. "I've just... I've never seen anyone with ears like yours before."
The girl remained silent for a long moment. Then, she inclined her head. "My name is Ashael," she whispered. "I am a Dark Elf."
The words echoed in Kael's mind. A people he had only read about in old dusty books, thought to be myths.
As the day progressed, they spoke. Kael spoke of his village; Ashael spoke of her people. He learned that the Dark Elves were nomadic, possessing ancient enchantments that allowed them to move like shadows. When the moon began to rise, Ashael's tattoos emitted a faint, ethereal glow.
Time lost its meaning.
As darkness fell, Kael stood up. "I come here every day to gather herbs for my mother. Could this... could this be our meeting place?"
Ashael hesitated, then nodded. A small, genuine smile touched her lips.
When Kael returned home, his mother was waiting at the door. "Why are you so late?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.
Kael told her everything. For a heartbeat, his mother's expression shifted—a flicker of something that looked like terror.
"A Dark Elf?" she whispered. "In these woods..." She trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.
That night, Kael did not sleep.
Days bled into weeks. Every day, they met in the heart of the forest. They played, explored, and shared silences. For Kael, the entire world existed only around that fallen log. Ashael showed him the "Shadow-Step" charms of her people—flickers of magic that turned their bodies into mist—while Kael shared stories of the simple, warm life of the village.
One afternoon, buried in the deepest silence of the woods, Ashael sat cross-legged on the log, reaching her hands toward the earth.
"Your world is so loud," Ashael said, closing her eyes. "The sound of axes in your village, the crackle of burning logs... In our world, everything speaks in whispers."
Kael laughed, confused. "Are you saying the trees talk?"
Ashael opened her eyes; a soft glow lived in her brown pupils. "They don't speak, Kael. They feel. Look." She took his hand and pressed his palm onto a layer of damp moss. "Clear your mind. Wait until you hear nothing but the blood rushing through your veins."
At first, Kael felt nothing but the cold dampness. But the moment Ashael's fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity surged through him. For a fleeting second, he heard a rhythmic thrumming from deep within the earth. It was like a heartbeat—ancient, primal, and vast. It was as if the spirit of the forest had recognized a hidden, dormant darkness within Kael and offered a salute.
Kael pulled his hand back, shivering. "That... that was strange. I felt something wake up inside me."
Ashael tilted her head curiously. "Usually, it takes humans years to feel that, Kael. You... you hear it much faster than the others."
That day, Kael realized for the first time that he didn't quite fit his mother's description of "ordinary people." And Ashael loved him for that nameless, strange part of him. In that moment, they believed this difference was a bridge that joined them.
Until the morning the sun rose colder than ever before.
When Kael reached their spot, the forest was deathly silent. Hours passed. The wind hissed, but Ashael did not come. One day... two days... a week.
Anxiety took root in Kael's soul like a poisonous vine. "Something has happened to her," he thought.
Finally, he could stand it no longer. Gripping his axe tighter than usual, he plunged into the "Forbidden Depths"—the place where the villagers said the trees swallowed the sky.
As midnight fell, the forest was no longer a friend. A chilling silence hung in the air. Suddenly, streaks of purple light surrounded him. Shadows, moving too fast for the human eye to track, drew a circle of death around him. Just as Kael crouched, ready to swing his axe, dozens of glowing brown eyes emerged from the darkness.
These were the Dark Elf warriors, power radiating from their very silhouettes.
"Tell us, human," one said, his voice as sharp and cold as a blade. "Why do you crave death so much?"
Kael's voice trembled, but his resolve did not. "I am looking for Ashael. She is my friend."
The warriors froze. Ashael... the daughter of their High Chieftain.
The name sent a shockwave through them. For a human to utter the name of the Chieftain's daughter so boldly was unthinkable.
They seized Kael and dragged him into the heart of the tribe. When he was brought before Vaelthar, the High Chieftain of the Dark Elves, Kael felt an oppressive aura that chilled his very marrow. Beside him stood Queen Lunarya, her gaze silently weighing Kael's soul.
"Our daughter," Vaelthar boomed, his voice like rolling thunder. "Did she truly spend her time with a son of man?"
Ashael entered the chamber, her eyes finding Kael's instantly. For both, it felt as if the world had stopped. But the laws of the Dark Elves were iron. For a human to know their location was an invitation to slave traders and royal armies.
The council proposed wiping Kael's memory. The price of such magic was heavy; often, the person forgot even their own name.
"I beg you, Father, don't!" Ashael cried out. "He never harmed me! He is my only friend!"
Queen Lunarya studied the aura within Kael. This boy did not possess the oily, black energy of the wicked; instead, she saw the erratic flickers of a massive, unawakened power. At the Queen's intervention, Kael's life and memory were spared, but the price remained: they were never to meet again.
As the time for parting came, Ashael pulled a silver ring from her finger—a band etched with an ancient moon seal—and pressed it into Kael's palm. "This was my grandmother's," she sobbed. "As long as you carry this, you are my friend, no matter where you are. Never forget."
With a flick of the Queen's spell, Kael was dropped at the entrance of his village in the blink of an eye. When he fell to his knees, the world was still spinning; the deep, mystic scent of the forest still clung to his lungs. He stumbled home. When he opened the door, he found his mother, haggard with worry.
Kael poured out everything—Ashael, the Chieftain, the forbidden friendship. His voice shook as he gripped the silver ring. Seeing her son so broken, his mother asked no questions. She simply pulled him to her chest.
"It's over now, my son," she said softly. "You are lucky to be home safe. Just sleep. Do not think of these things for a while."
She tucked him in and left the room, her soft expression hardening into deep dread. She looked out the window toward the dark forest.
"A tribe of Dark Elves... and so close," she whispered to herself. "Kael, as your half-blood begins to wake, destiny is pulling you right back into the world I fled from. May the Gods protect us, for I cannot hide you in this village forever."
In his room, Kael fell into a deep sleep, his hand resting on the moon-sealed ring beneath his pillow. That night, for the first time, he dreamt of six black shadows—fledgling wings that had not yet sprouted, but whose weight already crushed his very soul.