The Seeker furrows his brow upon sensing a surge of dark magic, disturbing the quietness of the ancient willow tree. He quickly heads down the hallway towards his study, his flowing robe gliding across the smooth wooden floor.

As he approaches his study, the ominous sense of darkness grows. At the end of the hallway, he comes to a halt and fixes his gaze on the wooden door frame. In the midst of heavy silence that seems to stretch on for an eternity, the sudden sound of a door bursting shatters the stillness. The force of the blast sends wooden splinters flying in every direction. With a powerful motion, Seeker channels the ancient magic of the willow. A bright blue aura fills the air, halting the flying splinters in their path.

A feminine voice punctures the night, laced with dark magic and twisted allure. It curls around the Seeker's body and worms its way into his mind. Through the cloud of dust and debris, a dark figure emerges, elegantly swaying out of the shadows into the moon's light.

Her raven hair cascades in waves down her shoulders, adding to her beauty. Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of purple that seems to entice and draw you in. The thick, dark magic in the air feels suffocating when you're near her.

"Oh, how long it has been." The woman stretches her long arms in the air. Her gaze then returns to the Seeker, who stands guard. "Seeker? My, my, it has been a long time. Time has aged you." She briefly admires her appearance in the window's reflection before snapping her attention back to the Seeker. "Perhaps you should try being trapped in a book that will save you a few centuries!". Purple lightning flickers from her fingertips; she gazes coldly at him.

Seeker watches the lightning, his hands prepared for whatever may come at him. "Though darkness may break, light will always find a way to shine through again.". His tone is fierce, with a hint of heartbreak in his voice.

His eyes widen as the enchantress giggles, starting slowly and building to a chilling crescendo that makes his blood run cold. Worry carves on his face as he realizes there is no warmth or light in her voice.

She mocks him, pressing her fingers together to show his mouth moving. "Though darkness may... Blah, blah, blah". She approaches him, gracefully gliding across the floor; her hips sway to the rhythm of his racing heart. "Your pretty lights and rhymes cannot hide the truth, Seeker. I am awake at last! And I shall finish what I started all those years ago!"

With a sudden movement, she raises her arm and unleashes a powerful lightning bolt towards Seeker. He quickly evades the attack and jumps to the side of the wall. The lightning bolt hits the wall with tremendous force, causing debris to scatter around the area.

With his hands pressed against the willow, he closes his eyes and starts speaking in an ancient language. She watches him, laughing at his prayers.

"Do you think this old chunk of wood can protect you?" She slaps the wall of the willow.

As he speaks louder and louder, the willow tree emits a gentle blue light, which gradually grows stronger and brighter. The enchantress relentlessly hurls bolts at him, but he is protected by a radiant shield that repels the attacks.

She stops and smirks from the corner of her mouth. "Your pretty little tree cannot protect you forever, Seeker; we have unfinished business to attend to." She exams her nails and sighs. "I suppose we will have to wait till next time. My powers need some refreshing anyway; it has been a while since I strolled through a page that did not confine me."

She turns to walk away, then stops and whispers to him in a vicious voice. "I will be back, Seeker. You and I will finish what we started long ago."

She blows him a kiss; he watches her walk away, still chanting to the willow his prayers.

Suddenly, a cloud of purple mist appears, and the enchantress gracefully glides through it, vanishing into the darkness of the night.

Seeker falls to the floor; sweat drips from his face, his eyes drooping with exhaustion.

He has failed to find a way to confine her to the book. He sits there through the night, worrying about the trials that are about to come.

---------------

After a restless sleep, Lyra heads to the Seeker's office. The story she heard kept playing in her mind, and she felt a sense of gloaming lingering around the willow. She dismisses it, thinking it is just her imagination but chooses to speak with him about it.

As she arrives at the Seekers Hall, she is taken aback by what she sees. Her eyes widen as she notices wood splinters protruding from the walls of the willow. She approaches the tree, examines the shards, and then whispers a healing prayer over it. Glancing upwards, she realizes that the study door is missing, and the hall is filled with the scent of smoke and musk.

She walks towards the Seeker's study and notices him frantically pulling books and scrolls off his shelves and throwing them on the floor. She knocks on the door frame softly.

Seeker turns around quickly and asks in a hushed tone, "Are you alone?"

She looks behind her; the hallway is empty. "Yes, Seeker."

"Follow me." He grabs a book and a golden quill shaped like a tree from his desk. He stops beside her, "We must move quickly, my child. There is no time to waste."

Lyra wrinkles her brows and tilts her head, but she obeys and follows him. They exit the willow and head across the stone bridge toward the falls.

As they approach the fallen gazebo, Seeker gestures for her to sit in front of him on the moss. She spreads out her dress and glances around, but she doesn't see any of the woodland critters. She also notices there is no wind, and the birds aren't singing their usual melodies.

Seeker puts his finger over his mouth, signaling for quietness. He takes a brown leather book and places it on the ground before opening it, revealing empty pages. After studying the book briefly, he looks at the quill in his hand.

"What is this about?" she asks; he remains silent.

He extends his arm, opening his palm to reveal the gleaming golden quill. With a soft and encouraging nod, he prompts her to take it. She hesitantly reaches out and grasps the quill, feeling its weight in her hand. As her fingers close around it, she senses a strange and unfamiliar energy emanating from it, sending shivers down her spine.

"Write a word." He slides the book towards her. "Something small that you can hold in your hands."

"But sir, we are not allowed to..." Lyra's words were cut off as the Seeker silenced her with a finger pressed against his lips. She understands his unspoken command and remains quiet, waiting for further instructions.

"Write..." He looks from her to the quill, then down at the empty page. Lyra stares at the quill momentarily, debating what to scribble on the page. She looks down at the book and begins to write carefully.

F - L - O - W - E - R

Seeker watches intensely at the word, his gaze not leaving the page. She feels eager about writing her first word. As her excitement grows, the letters begin to shine a bright, smooth golden hue.

His eyes widen, and the beaming light shines onto her face; she looks down at the letters. The page starts to flutter, and a flower grows from the center of the word.

A perfect red rose blossoms in front of them; leaves sprout from its stem; soon, it stops growing in front of their faces.

"Pull the flower from the book."

Lyra does as instructed and holds the flower in her hand. Cradling it softly, bewildered by its beauty and what just happened.

She looks up at the Seeker; he throws his hands up, rejoicing, "You did it!" He clutches her shoulders. "You did it, my child!"

"What is this?" Her eyes fixed on the rose.

"I will explain everything, but for now. Pull us a cup of tea from the book." he laughs.

She looks down at the empty page, picturing a perfectly blended tea. She begins to write; once she finishes, the pages flutter, and a porcelain pot emerges from the page—an aromatic tea sweet with the smell of ginger.

Seeker breathes the sweet smell in. "A fine blend you have chosen!".

She then crafts them two teacups and fills both cups with the brew. Seeker takes a sip and smiles warmly, shutting his eyes to enjoy the flavor.

Moments pass in silence until he whispers, "WordWeaver."

"WordWeaver? Like the story?" Her voice quivers.

"Hm. Yes. The story I told was, in fact, true."

"The battles between Seeker and WordWeaver... That was you?" Her eyes shift with her racing mind.

"Yes, and unfortunately, my dear... Past predictions have come true. She has escaped her bindings and walks among the pages again." His voice becomes hollow. "So, now we must take action."

"We? We? I do not understand. We, as in all the Keepers?" She studies him closely.

"No, we as in you." His eyes fill with sorrow.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, touching her chest.

"I will instruct you as much as possible, but I fear we have little time. We only have this moment now to prepare you."

Lyra gazes deeply into Seeker's eyes, desperately hoping for a glimmer of humor or a hint that he's kidding. However, his expression remains unchanged, causing her shoulders to droop as the reality of his words sinks in.

"What should I do?" she asks.

"Go behind the falls, gather your favorite books. The ones that speak of unlikely heroes," he says, pointing towards the glistening water.

Lyra stands up from her seat and makes her way towards the majestic waterfall. She skillfully navigates behind the cascading water, the mist gently brushing against her skin. After a few moments, she reappears carrying six beautifully bound old books.

"Very good. Now I will explain." He pauses and adjusts his seat; his gaze drifts around the forest again for prying eyes. "Writing with the quill is not harmful unless used to conjure items and creatures of darkness." He takes the quill from her hands and sits it beside the book. He continues. "These will be your tools for your quest." He closes the book, lays the quill on top of it, and then hands it to her.

"Who is she?" She asks.

He hesitates momentarily, "I shudder to speak her name, but she is called Lavinia. She intends to finish what she started long ago; to do this, she has begun to steal heroes from their books. Leaving villains in control so that when the time comes, the villains will join her in battle."

"Battle!?" Her eyes grow wide, and her voice cracks at the word.

"It started this morning; a few Keepers noticed a change in the writing that fell from the tree. Villains ruling the stories, no heroes to be found." He pauses. "Luckily, she knows little about your hidden trove of unfinished tales. So, we shall use that to our advantage." He glances over the books that she has brought to him. "Are you sure these are the ones you want?". She nods. "Good, Lyra, these must be heroes. Recruiting evil will only build darkness inside you."

"How do I recruit them?"

"You will travel into the pages. Be aware each travel will drain your light. Your light will be restored once you have returned to the willow tree with your heroes." He takes her hands into his. "I cannot express to you how important it is that these heroes are indeed as such. For one, a villain can tarnish your heart and blacken your magic. I cannot tell you how to recruit them; that is your journey." Lyra nods at him in understanding.

Her attention is drawn to a distant rumble, nudging her to glance upwards. She notices a large, ominous cloud moving across the sky like a crashing wave.

"Storm clouds?" she stares at the sky in wonder.

"It has begun; the fabric of our realm is beginning to tear. The great willow has already begun to drain from the lack of joyous emotions. Things are beginning to change, and soon, we will all be affected by it. I am afraid we are out of time. Select a book, my child."

Lyra gazes at the books in front of her; she takes her hand and rubs the spines, shutting her eyes and allowing her new magic to decide for her. When she stops on the one that feels right, she pulls it from the stack—a red book with a wolf silhouette on the cover.

"Azure," she says quietly with a smile. "How do I enter it?"

Seeker falls silent, his hands resting flat on the ground as if the very realm is confiding its secrets to him. The stillness of his body and the peaceful expression on his face suggest that he is deeply attuned to the world around him. It's as if the realm itself is whispering its secrets, and he is the only one who can hear them.

"Seeker?"

He looks at her, fear growing stronger in his eyes. "Place the quill on top of the book, whisper to it. Ata Hummera Elda. To return to the willow, you must say this spell backward!".

A sudden downpour drenches the surroundings as a dark cloud rumble in the sky. She glances up and feels the cold raindrops hitting her face, her expression twisting with discomfort and amazement.

"You must go now!" Seeker shouts at her as the storm grows stronger. "Here, take the other books; you can only travel in and out with what is on you, what you touch. GO!".

She positions the quill on the cover and then chants, "Ata Hummera Elda!".

As Seeker looks on, Lyra suddenly radiates with a bright light. Suddenly, a flash of illumination emerges, and she vanishes before his eyes.

Seeker sat in the rain, his mind filled with thoughts of Lyra's journey. He whispers an elven prayer of safety, hoping it will bring her protection. As the rain pours down on him, he stands up and removes his coat, feeling the cold droplets run down his skin. Without hesitation, Seeker sprints back to the Windrun Willow, weaving his way through the dense trees of the forest.