Kingdom of Eldoria

Chapter 4

Elara's Pov

The forest whispered to her as it always had. It was in the way the wind rustled the leaves, the way the roots beneath the soil seemed to pulse with ancient energy. Elara had learned to listen long ago, when the old witch who raised her taught her that the forest was alive, that it spoke in ways most people couldn't understand. But today, its voice was louder, more urgent, as if it knew what was coming.

She could feel Lyria's unease beside her as they moved through the thick underbrush. The princess had tried to mask her fear, but the forest was not kind to those who hid their emotions. It would peel away their layers, strip them bare until nothing but truth remained.

Elara didn't look at Lyria, keeping her eyes trained on the path ahead. The trees grew denser, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, their shadows growing longer as the sun began to set. They had little time before nightfall, and if they weren't inside the sanctuary by then, they'd be vulnerable to far worse than the shadow beast.

"Why did you help me?" Lyria's voice broke the silence, tentative and full of questions. "You could have left me back there. I would have been easy prey for Morwen."

Elara glanced at her, seeing the flicker of uncertainty in Lyria's eyes. She could understand why the princess would be skeptical. In the courts of Eldoria, kindness was currency, traded for power and influence. But the forest had no use for such games.

"I didn't help you," Elara said simply, stepping over a gnarled root that stretched across their path. "I helped the kingdom. If what you say is true, then Morwen's magic is far more dangerous than anything we've seen in decades. It's not just your family at risk—everyone is."

Lyria frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line. "But why me? You could have left me to figure it out on my own. Morwen... she told me I have magic, but I don't even know what it means."

Elara stopped and turned to face Lyria fully for the first time since they'd left the clearing. Her green eyes, deep and piercing, met Lyria's with a steady gaze. "You do have magic, Lyria. I've felt it since the moment you stepped into the forest. The air shifts around you. It responds to you. But you've been suppressing it your whole life. The castle walls, your father's rules—they've stifled something inside you."

Lyria swallowed, her face pale. "What kind of magic?"

Elara studied her for a moment, sensing the raw energy lying dormant just beneath the surface. It was untapped, wild, but powerful. "You're a conduit," Elara finally said, her voice quiet. "You don't create magic like I do. You channel it. The earth, the wind, the fire—it will respond to you if you let it. But you need to learn control. Without it... you're vulnerable."

Lyria's expression shifted from confusion to something darker—fear. She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "I didn't ask for this."

"None of us did," Elara said softly, turning away and resuming the path. "Magic doesn't care what we want. It just is."

The forest's voice hummed in the back of Elara's mind, a constant reminder that they were not alone. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches felt like a warning. She could sense the presence of shadow creatures lurking just beyond their sight, drawn to the power that hung in the air between them. Morwen had sent more than just the beast.

As they pushed forward, the terrain became more treacherous. The trees grew taller, their trunks wider, and the underbrush thickened, making it harder to move quickly. The air smelled damp and earthy, filled with the scent of moss and decaying leaves.

Elara could feel the sanctuary getting closer. She had been here once before, guided by the old witch who had shown her the ways of the forest. It was a place hidden from the eyes of men, protected by wards as ancient as the trees themselves. But even the sanctuary wouldn't hold forever if Morwen's magic continued to spread.

"Elara," Lyria said behind her, her voice sharp with alarm.

Elara turned just in time to see something dart between the trees—a dark, shifting shape, low to the ground, too quick to catch. Her heart quickened. "Stay close," she ordered, her hand going to the pouch at her waist. She had few supplies left—only a handful of herbs and a charm blessed by the forest spirits. It wouldn't be enough if they were surrounded.

The shadows moved again, closer this time. Elara's grip tightened on her pouch. They were being hunted.

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled, and from the darkness emerged a figure—a woman cloaked in shadows, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Morwen.

"Going somewhere, my dear Elara?" Morwen's voice was a mockery of sweetness, dripping with malice. "I thought you might like some company on your little journey."

Elara felt Lyria tense beside her, and for a brief moment, she considered running. But there was no escape. Morwen's magic was too strong, too fast.

"You've overstayed your welcome," Elara said, her voice cold and steady. She couldn't show fear, not here, not now. "This forest doesn't belong to you, Morwen."

Morwen's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Doesn't it? The forest and I are old friends. You, of all people, should know that."

Elara clenched her fists. Morwen was twisting the truth, as she always did. She had once been a guardian of the old ways, but her hunger for power had consumed her, warping her connection to the natural world. Now, everything she touched was tainted by darkness.

"Let us pass," Elara demanded, stepping forward. "Or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Morwen interrupted, her laughter soft and cruel. "Use your little charms and herbs against me? You're no match for what's coming, child."

Lyria moved closer to Elara, her breath quickening. "Elara, we need to get to the sanctuary."

"I know," Elara whispered, her mind racing. Morwen was too strong, too dangerous to confront head-on. They couldn't win this fight—not yet.

Morwen took a step forward, her shadowy form elongating, twisting with dark energy. "You can't hide from me. Not here. Not anywhere."

Elara's heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm. There was one thing left to try—one last defense the forest might offer.

With a swift motion, she pulled the charm from her pouch and held it aloft. It was a simple thing—a small, carved stone wrapped in vines—but it thrummed with the pulse of the forest, an ancient magic older than any sorcerer.

The ground beneath them rumbled, and the trees around them shuddered. Morwen's smile faltered for the briefest moment, her eyes narrowing.

"Elara, no," Morwen hissed, her voice sharp with fury. "You don't know what you're doing!"

But Elara did. She wasn't just calling on the magic of the forest. She was calling on its will, its very soul. And the forest did not take kindly to those who corrupted its balance.

"Run," Elara whispered to Lyria. "Now."

Lyria hesitated for only a second before sprinting toward the sanctuary, her form disappearing into the thick foliage.

Elara stood her ground, her heart pounding in rhythm with the forest's pulse. She could feel the magic building around her, ancient and wild, and she knew that whatever came next would change everything.

Morwen's eyes flashed with rage as the forest rose up to answer Elara's call.