Chapter 1: The Slumber Curse

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Lysandra stood in the village square, the sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone path beneath her feet. Her mother’s breath had grown shallower by the hour, her pulse fainter until it was barely there. The healers had tried everything: poultices, potions, prayers to forgotten gods, but nothing could stir Eira from her deep, unnatural slumber.

The whispers began only a day after her mother collapsed.

“It’s the Silver Grove,” they said. “The curse from that forest. There’s nothing we can do.”

Lysandra clenched her fists, her breath quickening in frustration as the village council made excuses. All her life, she had believed that curses could be broken. Magic—though dangerous—was a tool to be understood, not feared. But the elders wouldn’t listen. They feared the Grove more than death itself.

“I’m going into the Grove,” she said, her voice quiet but unshakable. The words felt foreign on her lips, as though someone else had spoken them, but she knew their truth, even as fear gripped her heart.

A gasp rippled through the villagers nearby. Old men shook their heads, muttering prayers under their breath. Mothers pulled their children close, whispering warnings about “The Devouring Forest.”

It was Joren, her closest friend, who stepped forward, his brow creased with worry. His lean form stood tense, ready to stop her if needed.

“Lysandra, you can’t. No one who enters that place returns,” he pleaded, his deep green eyes searching hers. “You know the stories. You’ve seen what it does to the animals. If they come back, they’re not the same.”

She turned to face him, her heart aching with the weight of her decision. Joren had always been the cautious one, the one who kept her grounded when her curiosity led her astray. This time, there was no one else who could help.

“I don’t have a choice,” she said, her voice steady. “My mother’s dying. The curse that’s put her in that sleep—it’s from the Silver Grove. I know it. If I don’t go, she’ll never wake.”

Joren swallowed, his throat bobbing as he glanced around, searching for anyone who might offer a solution. But the village had already turned away, leaving Lysandra to face her impossible decision alone.

“Then I’ll go with you,” he said suddenly, his jaw tight with determination.

“No.” She placed a trembling hand on his arm. “This is something I have to do alone. The Grove… it’s calling me. I can feel it.”

His expression softened with concern, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and change her mind. Instead, he nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Promise me you’ll come back,” he whispered.

Lysandra forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “I’ll try.”

With that, she turned and began the long walk toward the edge of the village, where the towering trees of the Silver Grove loomed like giants, their silvery leaves shimmering in the late afternoon light. The wind whispered through the branches, carrying the scent of damp earth and something older, more powerful.

The stories spoke of the Grove's magic—how it twisted the minds of those who entered, playing tricks on their senses and luring them deeper with illusions of their greatest desires or darkest fears. Lysandra wasn’t afraid of the illusions. She had her mother’s life at stake, and no amount of trickery would stop her.

As she reached the tree line, the air grew cooler. The warmth of the sun faded behind the thick canopy, and shadows stretched longer and darker, as though the forest itself swallowed the light whole. Lysandra paused for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. She had never ventured this far before and never dared to step beyond the invisible line separating the village from the forest.

But now there was no turning back.

With a deep breath, she stepped into the Silver Grove, leaving behind the world she knew and venturing into a realm of magic and mystery, where her mother’s fate—and perhaps her own—would be decided.

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