Shadow of Mirkwood

Hope

True siblings are bound together by far more essential things than blood, while more times than many blood isn't thicker than water

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Breath.

Close the lids. Open the lids. 

Turmoil and void. 

Noise and silence. 

Sound of blood humming in the ears. 

Blindness, buzzing, darkness, void.

The forest around Lytharial seemed to close in, shadows entwined with the echoes of revelation. 

           "Your sister is alive"

As the words hung in the air, a surge of emotions overwhelmed her. It was a truth she had long ceased to believe, a fragment of her past she had buried deep within the recesses of her heart. She stared at the medallion in her hands, her sister's image etched into the metal.

Time stood still as Lytharial, overcome by a torrent of emotions, sank to her knees. The ground beneath her seemed to offer both support and resistance, a testament to the weight of the revelation. The medallion, once cold against her fingers, now radiated warmth as if infused with the essence of life itself.

Unable to process the reality before her, Lytharial traced the contours of her sister's image with trembling fingers. The portrait, once a distant memory, now held the promise of a connection long thought severed. Her sister, alive somewhere in the vast expanse of Middle-earth, breathed life into a narrative she had resigned herself to forget.

She chuckled; what nice timing she had to find both of her siblings or rather them finding their way to her. First time in her life, she was thankful to Valthor for keeping her alive. 

The forest watched a silent witness to her visceral reaction. The breeze, gentle yet laden with the weight of unspoken tales, rustled through the leaves overhead. The air, thick with the scent of ancient trees, seemed to cradle the moment, allowing her to confront the resurgence of a past she had thought forever lost.

Blood rushed in Lytharial's ears, a deafening symphony that drowned out the ambient sounds of Mirkwood. She was blinded by the realization, the revelation both a beacon of hope and a tempest of conflicting emotions. The medallion, a tangible link to her sister, became a lifeline in a sea of turbulent feelings.

Gently, as if handling a fragile dream, she cradled the medallion in her palms. The engraved image bore witness to the passage of time, a sister frozen in perpetual youth. A whispered apology escaped her lips, an acknowledgment of the years spent mourning a loss that now revealed itself as a mirage.

Lytharial's thoughts danced in a kaleidoscope of emotions — disbelief, joy, sorrow, and a profound yearning. She felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders, the quest to find and reunite with her sister now etched into the fabric of her journey.

As she cradled the medallion in her hands, the world around her came back into focus. The ancient trees, the muted sunlight filtering through the leaves, and the distant whispers of Mirkwood filled the air. She felt a surreal sense of awakening, a stark realization that her sister was not just a memory but a living, breathing entity somewhere beyond the shadows.

Before she could fully grasp the magnitude of the revelation, the figure moved with a fluid grace, placing its sword on her shoulder. Lytharial just roused from the trance of disbelief, looked up to meet the gaze of her mysterious guide. A raspy voice, laden with secrets and hidden truths, broke the silence.