Violet Zereth was born in an age when dark elves were no longer considered a people. Once tied to an ancient civilization of shadow, spirits, and forbidden knowledge, dark elves were declared responsible for wars, fallen gods, and a shattered world. Kingdoms united not to understand them, but to erase them.
The Zereth clan was among the last to fall.
Once keepers of forgotten truths and scholars of old, the name Zereth gradually became associated with betrayal and calamity.
Whether these accusations were true or a fabrication of higher powers no longer mattered. Their cities burned, their bloodlines scattered. The few survivors were hunted, enslaved, or driven into cursed lands feared even by spirits.
Violet was still very young when she was captured.
Slavers who traded in "unwanted races" took her, stripped her of her name, and reduced her to an object. Passed between nobles, religious sects, and merchants, none saw her as a person—only a tool, a curiosity, or a life easily discarded.
What kept her alive was her ability to adapt.
When silence was the only way to survive, Violet learned to stay quiet. Knowing that words could spill blood, she observed, learned, and endured. She came to understand that fear ruled stronger than steel, and that cruelty was often mistaken for strength. Every physical and unseen scar hardened her resolve. She did not dream of rescue—she dreamed of endurance.
Freedom came not through mercy, but through chaos.
On the 17th day of the Cold Moon, far from the lands of any single kingdom, deep within the Dark Forest, a slaver group known as The Collar Guild had captured several slaves.
Among them was a dark elf girl named Violet Zereth, her eyes hollow and lifeless, a metal collar locked around her neck as she knelt inside an iron cage with the others.
That night, The Collar Guild chose to camp within the Dark Forest.
Each slave was chained by the collar, bound tightly to the cages. Two guards stood watch near Violet Zereth's cage, keeping the night watch.
One of them, a middle-aged man named Johnny, let out a yawn.
"Hey, Biorn… don't wake me up if you start dreaming about fooling around with an elf again," he muttered.
"We're deep in the Dark Forest tonight. No one's coming here."
Biorn snorted.
"Yeah, probably. Still… lately all the kingdoms have been obsessed with capturing one group," he said.
"Hawk Hollows, was it?"
At those words, Violet Zereth's ears twitched. She remained motionless, silently listening.
"Hawk Hollows…" Biorn continued. "They say they're dangerous. Two months ago, they wiped out two royal nobles. And their leader—Eryx Hollowmark. No one's ever seen his face. They say only his name is known."
Inside the cage, Violet whispered to herself, barely moving her lips.
"Eryx… Hollowmark…"
Out of the corner of her eye, Violet noticed something shift between the trees—a shadow moving where none should move. She stiffened, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her.
Then—
A horn sounded.
Johnny and Biorn froze.
"What the hell was that—?" they began, drawing their swords in panic.
Before either could finish the thought, arrows burst from the darkness, slicing through the air. Blood sprayed as both guards collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The slaves gasped in terror. Panic spread through the cages.
The soldiers of The Collar Guild rushed to arms, shouting in confusion, weapons raised.
From the darkness emerged a banner bearing the sigil of a hawk's skull, rising alongside shifting shadows.
Violet covered her mouth, whispering in disbelief.
"…Hawk Hollows."
They came fully masked, cloaked in black. From among them stepped a man who radiated authority. His face was hidden, only his eyes visible beneath dark garments.
He raised a hand.
Without a word, the members of Hawk Hollows surged forward.
What followed was slaughter.
Within the Dark Forest echoed only screams, the clash of steel, the sickening sounds of breaking bone and tearing flesh. Then—silence.
Moments later, every member of The Collar Guild lay dead upon the forest floor.
The slaves trembled, fear gripping their chests. Violet felt it too—raw terror, helplessness, her heart pounding as if it would burst.
A man—clearly their leader—approached her cage.
Violet shrank into the corner, covering her eyes like a frightened animal.
Then she heard the sound of metal breaking.
A calm, gentle voice spoke.
"Can you walk?"
Slowly, Violet lowered her hands and opened her eyes.
The man stood before her.
"If you can move, go stand with the others," he said—his tone soft, yet unmistakably commanding.
Still stunned, Violet stepped out of the cage and joined the other weakened slaves.
The man turned to face them all and spoke loudly.
"Listen carefully.
We are Hawk Hollows.
And I am its founder and lord—Eryx Hollowmark.
"You are free now.
Free to return to your friends, your lovers, your families, your homelands. That freedom is yours.
"No one will ever chain you again."
As he spoke, within the hearts of Violet Zereth and the freed slaves, the crushing darkness of fear slowly gave way—
and a faint light of hope began to rise.