A fantasy tale with divergent characters as protagonists who need to confront the power of angry mobs stirred on my malevolent forces in a world where magic and magical beings come to life.
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In the ancient lands of the ancient Ambiani people, an eerie stillness drowned out the normal sounds of life in a sacred grove of oak and rowan trees. A gray, overcast sky pressed heavily on the earth below. The silence was one warned of an impending storm, both natural and unnatural. The rolling hills and the dark, twisted trees stood like sentinels, witnesses to the unfolding of events long foretold.
Within the sacred grove, stood a towering, ancient oak tree with gnarled branches reached skyward, and its roots burrowed deep into the earth, intertwining with the very fabric of the land's magic. The tree was older than any living human. Beneath its protective branches, a small, stone altar rested, covered in intricate carvings and runes which told a story, a prophecy.
The air around the altar glowed despite the gray and oppressive sky which banished what little light made it to the forest floor. The golden light was a manifestation of the ancient enchantments. With the first drops of rain beginning to fall, the carvings came alive with a faint, otherworldly light.
A hooded figure approached the altar, moving with the quiet grace of one who was familiar with the secrets of this land. The figure's cloak was woven from the finest silken threads and it shimmered like moonlight on water. The cloaked figure's footsteps left no trace upon the earth. As the being's hood was drawn back, a cascade of silver hair framed the ageless face of a seer. Her eyes betrayed the weight of countless lifetimes.
The seer, known as Elowen, knelt before the altar, her hands resting lightly on the ancient stone. She closed her eyes and began to chant in a language as old as the hills themselves, her voice a whisper which mingled with a rising wind. The words of her incantation wove through the air, summoning visions of the past, present, and future.
As Elowen chanted, the carvings on the altar glowed with an intensity which cast shadows on the ground. With her invocations, visions took shape. She saw the rise of darkness, a malevolent force reaching out to consume all in its path. It was a darkness which had long been prophesied.
Elowen saw the figures of Morcar and Morgause standing at the center of the storm, their hate-filled eyes betrayed their hunger for ultimate power. Morcar's dark robes swirled around him like a living shadow. His staff was crowned with a pulsating crystal which crackled with sinister energy. Morgause's beauty was a mask for her treachery. Her cruelty and malevolence corrupted everything she touched.
The vision shifted, revealing the spread of darkness and despair. Villages and towns fell under the sway of Morcar and Morgause, leaving their inhabitants terrorized. Creatures of nightmares roamed the land, sowing chaos and destruction. The balance of the world was tipping, and the need for heroes had never been more urgent.
Elowen's chant grew more intense, her voice rising above the wind now howling. She saw the faces of those who would meet this darkness. There were five figures who appeared. The seer's vision showed these five souls coming together, their paths converging in the village of Long, nestled beside the Somme River. It was there where their journey would begin.
The ancient prophecy which had been passed down through generations, spoke of a dragon's aid and the guidance of mystical beings. She saw Draconis, a dragon, whose wisdom and power would become a beacon of hope. The trio of life-sized fairies; Aurelia, Lysandra, and Thalassa. The druid Eamon, with his deep understanding of the natural world and ancient magic stood with the fairies. Beside him stood Ciaran, a bard whose music held the power to heal and inspire. These allies, along with the youths who would meet in Long, would stand together as the last bastion against the darkness.
As the final words of Elowen's chant echoed, the vision began to fade. The carvings on the altar dimmed, their glow receding into the stone once more. Elowen opened her eyes. She had seen what needed to be seen, and she knew it was time. Rising to her feet, she pulled her hood back over her head and turned to leave the sacred grove. The path ahead was clear. The time for action had come.
