The air smelled different in Aetherwyn that morning. A stillness blanketed the realm, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Elara stood near the edge of the crystalline lake, her reflection trembling in the rippling waters, distorted by the weight of what she now knew.
She had spent the night piecing together the fragments of her dreams, the mysterious scrolls she'd found in the archives, and the voice that had visited her mind more than once. All threads pointed to a single truth—her arrival in this realm had not been a mistake.
It had been orchestrated.
"Elara," Kieran's voice broke the silence, his boots crunching softly over the frost-bitten grass. "You disappeared last night. I looked everywhere."
She didn't turn. "I had to think."
"You went to the Elm?"
A pause. "Yes."
The Elm, sacred to the people of Aetherwyn, was not just a tree—it was a living relic of the old gods, and beneath its roots, it was said that the veil between worlds thinned. No one approached it lightly.
"What did it say?" Kieran asked, his tone softer now, almost reverent.
Elara finally turned, her eyes distant. "It whispered… memories. Not mine. A woman's face, golden eyes like mine. She stood in a storm, holding a child wrapped in starlight. She cried my name."
Kieran stepped closer. "You think it was your mother?"
"I don't know. But the Elm called her The Herald of Sundering. It showed me a vision of the portal I came through, but it wasn't random. It was opened—intentionally."
Kieran's brows furrowed. "Someone brought you here on purpose?"
She nodded. "And not just me. Others have come before. Lost souls, chosen vessels. I'm only the latest."
The wind picked up then, and with it came the faint scent of ozone and roses—a sign of the Fae's presence. Kieran's hand went instinctively to the hilt of his blade, though he made no move to draw it.
Elara raised a hand. "It's alright. I… I think they want to speak."
From the edge of the forest, light shimmered. A figure stepped forward—not tall, but impossibly graceful. Hair like woven moonlight cascaded over their shoulders, and eyes the color of shifting skies fixed on Elara.
"You have awakened," the Fae said simply. Their voice echoed as if sung through wind chimes.
"I don't understand what I'm awakening to," Elara replied. "I need answers. Why me? Why now?"
The Fae tilted their head. "Because you carry the last ember. The fragment of Luminae's breath. The spark that can unmake what should never have been."
Kieran stiffened beside her. "You mean the Sundering."
The Fae nodded. "Long ago, when the realms were split, a bargain was struck. A sacrifice, a rift, and a promise of return. The line of the Herald was meant to be extinguished. But fate, clever thing that it is, hid her child across the veil."
Elara's voice trembled. "You're saying I'm… descended from her?"
"Not descended. You are her reborn. The same soul, spun anew. The Elm knew this. That is why it called to you."
The words struck her like a lightning bolt. A hundred thoughts exploded at once—her dreams, her unnatural connection to the realm, the way magic responded to her even before she understood it.
"But I'm not ready," she whispered. "I'm not… a savior."
The Fae stepped closer. "You do not need to be. You only need to choose. There is a war coming, Elara of Two Worlds. And you will either open the gate… or burn it closed forever."
Before Elara could respond, a sudden tremor shook the ground. Birds scattered. The lake rippled violently. A distant horn echoed from the northern ridge.
Kieran's eyes went wide. "That's the signal from Highwatch. They're under attack."
The Fae's gaze darkened. "The Wretched have moved. Their queen knows you walk the realm."
Elara looked at the forest behind them, then to the hills beyond the lake. "I have to go."
"You're not a warrior," Kieran warned. "This isn't training or visions. This is real blood, real death."
"I know," Elara said, her voice steady. "But they're coming for me. If I hide, they'll burn everything in their path to reach me."
The Fae stepped back, fading slowly into light. "Then claim your fate, daughter of starlight. The portal shall open when your heart is ready. Until then, wield your will like a blade."
With a final whisper of wind, the Fae vanished.
Kieran let out a long breath. "Well. That was… a lot."
Elara allowed herself a shaky laugh. "Understatement of the century."
He offered his hand. "Then let's go. If we're going to defend Highwatch, we'll need to move fast. And I don't suppose you have any magic tricks that let us fly?"
Elara took his hand. "Not yet. But give me a day."
They ran.
Behind them, the Elm stood silent, but at its base, a single root curled upward from the soil—glowing faintly gold.