In the heart of Orisia, a mystical realm shielded by magical barriers, seven colonies thrive with unique elemental powers. The Citadel of Elements, once the refuge of the last pure-blooded Enchanted, now houses their descendants and the wise spirit...
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The screech pierced through the air and brought me out of my head, causing my hand to go for the hilt of my sword. I was prepared to skewer any creature that appeared before me. That was until I heard Torin's voice echo through the cave I was currently squatting in.
"We have a problem," my best friend squawked at the entrance, shifting himself from side to side, looking like he was in need of a washroom.
Barely looking up from sharpening my knives, I shout back, "No. You have a problem; I have a magical idiot who keeps making my life more complicated."
His scoff of displeasure verberates through the small alcove, "Oh come on, Freckles, you know you would be lost without me." He coos as he plops himself next to me.
Realistically, I do agree with him, which I gather he knows based on the shit-eating grin plastered on his face. I've had Torin in my life for as long as I can remember, ever since his family greeted mine ages ago when we first migrated from Emberfell to Celestria. All it took for me to get stuck with a blonde-haired, light-wielding Enchanted was a fleeting couple of moments of unwanted eye contact and a flick to the nose. While I'm truly grateful for him, right at this moment, I wish that I didn't let him come on this retrieval with me.
Torin's golden locks gleam in the dim light of the cave as he smirks, his azure eyes dancing with mischief. "You're far too hard on me, Dalia. Besides, you love the excitement I bring into your life."
I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Lost with you? Excitement? More like chaos and unnecessary trouble."
Ignoring my sarcastic remark, Torin leans in, eyes narrowing with seriousness. "Well, I can't deny that, but I do feel that you're just perpetually more grumpy than usual this lumenday, so I'm not taking anything you say seriously," he chortles, still trying to get to the actual point of his previous screeching.
The dampness of the cave and the faint scent of moss hang in the air as Torin continues his attempt to explain the so-called problem. I sighed, setting down the knife I was sharpening and finally giving him my full attention.
"What's the problem, Tor?" I asked, brushing a strand of my copper hair away from my face. Torin, on the other hand, now that I'm actually getting a proper look at him, is like a dishevelled mess, his usually well-groomed blonde hair sticking out in odd directions.
"It's the Sylphs," he said, his tone hushed. "I might have accidentally trespassed into their sacred grove. They didn't take kindly to it."
My eyes narrowed at the mention of the Sylphs. We're currently in the colony of Fairwind, and while the ethereal beings are known for their child-like appearance, they're also very well known for their territorial nature and a penchant for tricks and illusions. "You trespassed? Torin, are you out of your mind?"
He winced. "I didn't know it was their grove! I was just exploring, and the next thing I knew, they were chasing me with storm arrows," he adds before turning to me and pointing a slender finger my way, "You're one to talk, Dalia! Your whole existence depends on sneaking out to places you're not supposed to be."
