𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

A sharp gust of wind whisked through the trees, sending a chill raking its gelid fingers down the young woman's spine. The vibrant leaves of autumn, once brilliant in hues of gold, amber, and crimson, were now beginning to make their final descent, signaling the end of the season.

As these vibrant remnants spiraled gracefully to the ground, the atmosphere grew heavier with the anticipation of winter's arrival. At the twinkling of an eye, the mystical land would be cloaked in a pristine blanket of snow, transforming the enchanting landscapes of Mënwelen into a tranquil, wintry landscape of white. The air was thick with the scent of impending frost, hinting at the magic and serenity that would soon engulf the mystical realm, leaving behind only whispers of the vivid autumn days.

The meandering roads twisted and turned as they climbed the hills, vanishing into the horizon, where the sky transformed into a breathtaking palette of honeyed gold and vibrant orange. This captivating light bathed the landscape in warmth, illuminating the lush greenery of the surrounding hills.

As the roads continued their ascent, they entered enchanting woodland realms filled with towering trees, their leaves whispering in the gentle breeze. These mystical forests stretched far beyond the limits of human imagination, daring the adventurous to explore the secrets hidden within their ancient depths.

After the collapse of the alliance with Centralis, the High Elves retreated into their secluded domains, choosing to isolate themselves from humanity for centuries. This decision stemmed from a deep-seated distrust of humans, whose loyalty proved to be inconsistent and unpredictable.

The High Elves, valuing their traditions and heritage, focused on preserving their culture and strengthening their magical practices while remaining wary of human influence and the chaos that often accompanied their presence.

Amara tucked a loose strand of silvery white hair behind her ear, a gesture that revealed the sharp curve of her jaw. Her heterochromatic eyes, one a stormy gray reminiscent of a brewing tempest and the other a vibrant deep emerald green, were intensely fixed on the path ahead.

The landscape stretched out before her, unknown and ancient, as she remained undeterred by the challenges that lay in her way. It had been two weeks and three moons since she began her arduous journey from Northern Centralis. Before setting out on her journey, she labored as a mercenary in Northern Centralis, the Borealands. It did not provide her much, but she managed to scrape by with her earnings.

Amara watched as a caravan of Yuyian Elves, known for their affinity with nature, emerged gracefully from the thick, shadowy woodlands just a short distance away. The air around them shimmered with an enchanting energy, emphasizing their ethereal presence.

They were cloaked in rich, deep brown fabrics that blended seamlessly with the ancient trees surrounding them. Each Elf carried a slender, elongated bow slung across their backs, and quivers filled with gleaming steel arrows hung at their sides, ready for any encounter.

Yet, amidst this group, one figure captivated Amara like no other. This Elf stood out in striking attire: robes of silvery-white that seemed to catch and reflect beams of sunlight, adorned with soft summer blues and hints of creamy beige that flowed elegantly around her. The colors blended together in a way that evoked the gentle transition of dawn.

As the caravan drew nearer, Amara was entranced by the Elf's enchanting gaze. Her eyes sparkled with shades of deep blue lapis, flecked with glimmers of gold that reminded Amara of stars twinkling in a twilight sky.

The presence of this mesmerizing Elf completely absorbed Amara's attention; she felt as though the world around her had faded into a soft blur, leaving only the striking figure and those captivating eyes in focus. Amara's heart raced, caught between wonder and awe, almost as if she were spellbound, unable to tear her gaze away from the extraordinary being before her.

"How did you come to enter the land of Mëneva, mortaling?" The High Elf's voice was both alluring and stern, her piercing gaze scanning Amara intently as if weighing her very soul. With her regal features set in a hard expression, the Elf's aura radiated both intensity and caution.

Amara couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness rise within her as she stood under the intense scrutiny of the elven woman. The warm sunlit glade around them felt suddenly stifling, and every heartbeat echoed in the charged silence, making her painfully aware of how out of place she was in this ancient land.

Even though a pit of anxiety churned in her stomach, Amara took a deep breath and composed herself, determined to project an air of confidence. She met the Wood Elf's curious gaze with a steady look of her own and said, "My business is my own," her tone cool and unwavering. The words rang true; she had no obligation to divulge her private matters to this stranger, no matter how intriguing or persistent they might be. Or an Elvish ruler, even.

The Wood Elf arched an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of frustration and disapproval. "That is a clear violation of the Treaty of Nalguard," she stated sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument. As she advanced, her presence seemed to grow more imposing, and she fixed Amara with a piercing glare that made Amara's heart race with a sense of impending dread.

The air around them felt heavy with tension, and Amara couldn't shake the feeling that her fate was hanging in the balance. "Now," the Elf continued, her voice steady but laced with solemnity, "I shall ask you one final time: how did you manage to infiltrate Mënwelen, mortaling?"

Finally, Amara took a deep breath and relented. The last thing she wanted was to provoke a conflict with the Wood Elves, a fierce and formidable race. They had spent hundreds, and in some cases, even thousands, of years perfecting their archery, illusions, and survival dexterities, while Amara had only a mere decade of experience in survival. The differences between their histories weighed heavily on her; she felt like a novice standing before seasoned warriors.

Furthermore, she knew that the Yuyian Elves were known for their hot tempers, contrasting sharply with the High Elves, who were celebrated for their patience, wisdom, and composed demeanor. The thought of escalating tensions filled her with nervousness. If she continued to push her thinning luck, she feared the consequences could be dire—perhaps resulting in a grim fate, with a corpse lying forgotten by the side of the road.

With a determined yet sincere tone, she finally spoke up, "I have been selected to attend the prestigious University of Venëficiom. It's taken me a long and arduous journey so far, and I aim to further my studies there," she explained, her voice steady as she hoped to earn their understanding.

Her response appeared to take the ethereal Wood Elf by surprise. With a calm demeanor, she raised her hand, signaling to her companions, and the sharp glint of knives was quickly sheathed, their threat dissipating into the still air. Amara felt a wave of relief wash over her as she gulped nervously, her heart still racing from the moment's tension.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even registered the stealthy movements of the Wood Elves around her as they had unsheathed their blades. The remarkable skill and precision with which they had drawn their weapons without making a sound left her both in awe and on edge, heightening her awareness of the danger that had lingered so close at hand.

"I am Lady Eirian of the Wendriggcyl Woodland Realm," she declared, her rich and melodic voice instantly capturing Amara's attention. As she spoke, her expression softened just enough to reveal a glimpse of warmth beneath her otherwise regal demeanor, yet she retained an undeniable air of authority that commanded respect.

Amara's heart raced; she had not anticipated encountering a Yuyian ruler while traveling through these ancient woods. The encounter felt surreal, for she was exceptionally beautiful before she stood, with flowing hair that shimmered like polished silver and eyes that gleamed deep blue with power.

"Being selected for the war, I presume," Lady Eirian mused aloud as she studied Amara meticulously. "I can find no other reason for selecting a mortal in such hours of desperation in Mënwelen," she remarked. Her words felt like a sharp slap across the face for Amara. Even with the tensions between the two High Elf races of the Mëlduian and Vharkûn, it was still a high honor to be selected to attend Venëficiom.

Lady Eirian's ethereal presence was both enchanting and intimidating as she gazed at Amara with an intensity that suggested she knew more than she let on. "You will come with me," she insisted, her voice firm yet inviting and posing a position of authority. Amara felt a thrill run through her—a mix of curiosity and apprehension—as she contemplated the path ahead.

Amara crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she faced Lady Eirian. "What benefit does my presence offer on your peregrination to Thalûmwe?" she inquired, her voice sharper than initially intended. The weight of her words hung in the air, revealing her unease about being brought along. Lady Eirian, with her striking lapis-colored eyes that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of Amara's thoughts, narrowed her gaze, contemplating the significance of Evelyna's question. The tension between them thickened as they stood in the dim light, the looming adventure ahead filled with uncertainty.

"I do not explain myself, mortaling. If you do not proceed with me as I have ordered, I will have your head severed from your body and taken with me. I shall present it to the Headmaster of Venëficiom for your insolence against me," Lady Eirian hissed in a sharper and quieter tone, where only the two of them could register the harsh exchange. Her expression softened into a cordial one, yet underneath that blanketed smile hid a danger like a viper slithering through tall blades of grass that resulted in her guard rising and her stare hardening toward Lady Eirian.

She exhaled sharply but nodded. "I understand now, my lady," Amara responded between gritted teeth. Despite her obvious agitation, Lady Eirian lifted her soft pink lips into a smile.

"Wonderous," Lady Eirian responded, then ducked her head as she slipped into her carriage, which was made of mahogany and silver swirled and tailored on dark wood. When Evelyna followed behind her to enter her carriage, she felt sharp steel press against her throat quicker than wind, their footsteps lighter than a feather.

She glanced at her side to notice one of the Yuyian elves in a cloak had their curved short swords pointed directly at her and at least four archers with their arrows already at the quiver, prepared to shoot her down.

Lady Eirian chuckled airily from inside of her carriage. "As much as I took delight in our conversation, you will walk with the rest outside. I must admit, I do admire your audacious nature," she told the mortal woman with a patronizing smile.

"I have a name, you know," Amara said bluntly. She retreated from the steps to the carriage, and the steel swiftly retracted from her throat. "I am Amara Sylvester. If we are still doing introductions, my lady," Amara presented herself and satirically fell into a deep bow.

The regal Wood Elf huffed and slid the window to her carriage shut. "Continue forth!" Lady Eirian ordered from within her carriage.

A Yuyian woman clad in supple leather with braided noirette hair nodded and began ordering the others in Mëlduian Elvish. The words flowed like a placid river despite her strict tone of voice. The Yuyian woman turned her attention to Amara and narrowed her dark brown gaze at her.

"You will travel with me, mortaling. I have been tasked with keeping an eye on you. Do anything out of line, and I will not hesitate to dispose of you," the Yuyian warned her grimly.

"Well, I don't plan on arriving to Thalûmwe in pieces, so if I must, I shall," Amara quipped while wearing a sardonic smile.

Despite her attempt at humor, it landed flat as the Yuyian woman scoffed dismissively, leaving the joke devoid of any impact. With a graceful yet intimidating air, the Yuyian woman strode closer, locking eyes with her in a way that felt simultaneously challenging and unyielding.

As their gaze met, she noted the intricate scars that marred the woman's rich, dark skin—each mark telling a story of survival and resilience. The woman's thick hair was meticulously woven into long, intricate braids, accentuated by golden clasps that glinted in the light and pale white gems that dangled delicately, a symbol of her valor and fierce participation in battle.

The woman introduced herself with a voice that held both authority and a hint of threat. "I am Aesira," she stated firmly, her tone leaving little room for dialogue. The weight of her words settled heavily in the air. "You would be better off keeping your mouth shut and moving on, mortaling." Each syllable felt like a blade slicing through the tension, delivered with a swift and unhesitating resolve that made it clear she was not someone to be trifled with.

After Amara nodded begrudgingly in agreement, she joined the caravan of Yuyian Elves as they gracefully traversed the serpentine road leading to the fabled city of Thalûmwe. The air was filled with the enchanting sounds of their melodic voices and the rustling of leaves, creating a symphony that echoed through the lush landscape. With each step, Amara felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation, her heart racing at the thought of what lay ahead.

"How long have you served Lady Eirian?" Amara inquired. Direct and straight to the point, as swiftly as an arrow shot by a Yuyian.

"None of your concern, mortaling," Aesira shot back with a steely look to warn Amara- she treads on newfound territory, and it is advised to be wary. Yet, despite the heeded warning, Amara disregarded it and pushed the conversation forward.

"Amara," she reminded Aesira. "That's my name if your pointy ears didn't catch it the first time. Now you know, and you can use it from now on," she said.

Aesira threw a glare her way. "I will dispose of you if you continue to irk these pointy ears of mine, Amara," she riposted with a sneer to her name, a slight smirk curving her full lips, then returned her attention to the slithering road ahead of the caravan.

Little did Amara know that within the vibrant walls of Thalûmwe, a significant figure awaited her arrival—someone whose presence would change the course of her life forever. The sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the path, illuminating her journey toward destiny.