"To fight evil; you must first understand the dark."
From the blood of Dragons, a child shall rise,
Born of fire and fear, her fate sealed with lies.
For she is the chosen, the one who will bring
A reign of darkness, a world with its dark king.
...
As the sun set on the tranquil haven of Rivendell, Elrond led Anaynah through the winding paths of the Elven sanctuary. The air was heavy with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, for they were bound for a sombre encounter.
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Many hours Anaynah and her father had spent talking for she had just discovered the truth about herself. It was too much for her, the amount of information was too much to absorb. She could not comprehend. How could she? Everything she had known, everything she thought she understood about herself was a lie. But there was no point pushing it away for the truth had caught up to her. Elrond needed her to understand. He needed her to know the severity of the circumstance, she had to understand the damage she could cause.
Anaynah's steps faltered as they approached the healing chambers, her heart pounding in her chest. The sight that awaited them was a stark reminder of the consequences of her power. Her eyes fell on the dark-haired Ellon.
Elladan lay motionless on the bed, his once proud and graceful form now covered in bandages, a testament to the scorching flames that had engulfed him.
An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over Anaynah, threatening to consume her completely. She stood frozen, her eyes welling with tears as she took in the extent of the damage she had caused.
"Elladan?" Her voice quivered as she took a step closer, her legs trembling beneath her. She sank to her knees beside her brother's bedside, desperate for a response that never came. Slowly she reached out to grasp his hand between hers, repeating his name, "Why won't he wake?" Her words wavered, filled with fear and despair. Elrond, his heart heavy with sorrow, spoke from behind her.
"These wounds are no ordinary injuries. It is a magic. They bear the mark of Dovahkin flames, the fiercest fires in all of Middle-Earth."
"Is he... will he..." Anaynah's voice quivered as she asked the question that haunted her soul.
"No, he will be alright. Though he has yet to wake, the grace of Valar will guide his recovery."
Elrond, a pillar of strength and wisdom, reached out to offer comfort, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. But to his surprise, she flinched away, rising abruptly to her feet.
"I did this," Anaynah's eyes darkened, her voice filled with self-realization.
"Anaynah, no. You were not yourself. You were not in your own mind," Elrond's voice was a soothing balm to her troubled spirit. "You need not bear this burden alone. The power within you is both a gift and a responsibility. Together, we will heal Elladan and learn to harness your extraordinary abilities and you will be Middle Earth's saving grace."
Anaynah's head shook, her voice choked with emotion.
"No. No, this is evil, Ada. It can't be real." Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her hands clenched tightly in her hair. Elrond's eyes met hers, filled with unwavering compassion.
