In the kingdom of Elyndor, where magic breathed through every leaf and stone, the first light of dawn kissed the land—and with it, the ever-weaving destinies of two souls began to unfold.
In the serene heart of the Elyndor Forest, where rolling hills flowed into glistening streams and ancient trees whispered secrets older than memory, Juniper was born beneath a canopy of emerald light. Her green hair lay soft against her light-tan skin, freckles already dusting her cheeks like scattered petals. She did not arrive beneath open sky or upon cold earth, but within a living treehouse nestled high among the branches of a great oak whose roots drank from hidden springs deep below. The structure had been grown rather than built, shaped gently by druidic hands so that wood, leaf, and spirit existed in perfect harmony. Soft light filtered through the leaves, and the air hummed with the breath of the forest itself.
Her family—revered herbalists and keepers of nature's oldest wisdom—welcomed her into the world with whispered blessings and sacred rites. Even in her first moments, Juniper's bright green eyes reflected the pulse of life all around her: the quiet stretching of vines, the heartbeat of roots, the distant call of birds greeting the morning. The forest recognized her as one of its own, and in return, she instinctively reached back, bound forever to the living world.
Meanwhile, beyond the forest's veiled edge, Pyrrha was born in a place of equal power, though of a very different kind.
Her arrival took place within a revered stronghold—a hidden sanctuary devoted to ancient knowledge and eternal vigilance. Her black hair lay like silk against pale skin as she took her first breath, her eyes already dark with silver-flecked depth. Carved from stone and veiled in enchantments, the fortress lay beyond the reach of ordinary eyes. Its halls echoed with the murmurs of long-forgotten scholars and warrior-guardians, and glowing glyphs shimmered faintly along its walls. The air itself was thick with lingering spells, layered one upon another across countless generations.
Pyrrha's family, sworn protectors of forbidden lore and sacred truths, gathered as she cried for the first time. In that instant, the stronghold itself seemed to stir, as though recognizing a new presence woven into its destiny. A quiet surge of power rippled through ancient stone, and unseen wards glowed in silent acknowledgement. Though she was but a newborn, Pyrrha was already wrapped in a legacy of knowledge, duty, and hidden strength few beyond those walls would ever comprehend.
Two girls were born beneath the same dawn—one cradled by the living forest, the other sheltered by timeless stone. Though distance and destiny separated their first breaths, the threads of their lives were already entwined, quietly weaving a story that would one day change Elyndor forever.