The Kingdom of Elvendor: Curse of the Forgotten

A Flicker Before the Storm

They were waiting. A full squad, armed and ready, surrounded the clearing. Some had bows drawn, arrows already trained on us. Others held spears, their sharp tips gleaming in the faint moonlight. My stomach twisted when I saw who stood at the center of it all.

Talanor.

His commanding presence made the space feel even smaller, his ornate armor glinting faintly with enchanted runes. His cold gaze locked onto me immediately, and I could feel the weight of his disappointment even from where I stood.

Bjorn let out a low whistle, his axe already in hand. "Well. This is cozy."

Freya reached for her dagger, her grip tense but steady. "They don't look like they're here to negotiate."

Eirik stepped forward slightly, his body a protective shield between me and the guards. His sword remained sheathed for now, but his posture made it clear he was ready to strike.

"Elowen," Talanor's voice broke the silence, smooth and unyielding. "I knew you would come here eventually. I suggest you surrender now. This doesn't have to get messy."

I clenched my fists, stepping forward despite the weight of his gaze. "Messy? You mean like locking me up because you're scared of me?"

Talanor's brow twitched, a flicker of something—anger?—crossing his otherwise stoic face. "You were protected. You should be studied to ensure your safety, Elowen. And everyone else's. And now you've jeopardized everything by running."

"Protected?" I shot back. "It was more like a prison, Talanor. Don't try to twist it."

Talanor exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "You don't understand what you are. What you could become. Running only proves how reckless you are."

I took another step forward, ignoring the way Eirik's fingers twitched at his sword hilt. "No, Talanor. I understand perfectly. I understand that you're afraid."

His jaw tightened. "I fear only what uncontrolled power can do."

Bjorn snorted. "Oh, give me a break. You lot fear anything that doesn't fit into your perfect little system."

Talanor's gaze flicked to him, assessing, calculating. "And you. You shouldn't be here. None of you should."

Freya bared her teeth in something between a smirk and a snarl. "Yeah, well. We don't take orders from you."

The tension stretched taut, the night air thick with unspoken threats. The guards adjusted their stances, their grips tightening on their weapons.

I had to make a decision—fast. Fighting wasn't an option. Not against this many, not here.

Think, Elowen. Think.

I turned my gaze back to Talanor, lifting my chin. "You're not going to kill me."

His eyes narrowed. "A bold assumption."

"You would have done it already if that were the plan." I glanced at the soldiers, noting their defensive postures. Not an ambush. A containment. "You want me alive."

Talanor was silent for a long moment, his fingers twitching at his side. A tell. He didn't like how close I was to the truth.

I took a slow breath. "I'm not going back."

Talanor's eyes darkened. "Then you leave me no choice."

A single flick of his wrist.

The archers released their arrows.

I barely had time to react before a blast of wind erupted from my palms, sending the glowing projectiles spiraling off course. They struck the ground, fizzling with residual magic.