Elora Danan, the girl who had spent her life as "Dove," the kitchen maid, looked at her hands. They were trembling. Only hours ago, she had been captured by the , agents of a darkness she barely understood. She had escaped, but the woods felt like a cage. Every snap of a twig sounded like the clicking teeth of the Lich , the terrifying sorcerer-assassin hunting her through the brush.
"Elora! Now!" Willow shouted, his face contorting with the effort of holding back the darkness. "The spark is in you! Use it!" Elora Danan, the girl who had spent her
"He's coming for us," Elora whispered, her voice cracking. "I can feel him in the air." She had escaped, but the woods felt like a cage
Suddenly, the forest went silent. The birds stopped mid-chirp. From the darkness, a figure emerged—tall, skeletal, and draped in tattered black silks. The Lich. He didn't speak; he didn't need to. The ground beneath Elora’s feet began to wither, the grass turning to ash in a perfect circle around the dark sorcerer. "Protect the girl!" Silas roared
Elora closed her eyes. She didn't think of queens or prophecies. She thought of the kitchens—the warmth of the hearth, the smell of fresh bread, the feeling of safety she used to take for granted. She reached for that warmth and pushed it outward.
The silence returned, but this time it was peaceful. Elora sank to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Willow walked over and placed a small, weathered hand on her shoulder. "You did it," he said softly. "I just wanted him to go away," she replied.
"Protect the girl!" Silas roared, charging forward. But with a casual flick of a withered hand, the Lich sent Silas flying into a cedar tree, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.