Fragment

Ellmanora, 1440
The memories come unbidden now, as if the years have folded in on themselves and time itself has loosened its grip. I see it all again—the war, the fire, the faces of those I loved and those I lost. It feels like a lifetime ago, though it was only yesterday in the way memory distorts.
Ellmanora was not always the sanctuary it is now. Once, it was a land shared by humans and supernatural’s alike—elves, witches, and Lycans living alongside men and women who walked without magic but with hearts just as fierce. But that peace was fragile, a thin glass that shattered under the weight of fear and hatred.
The war began with whispers. Rumors of witchcraft blamed for crops failing, Lycans accused of attacks on villages, and elves accused of meddling in human politics. The humans, led by their king and queen, grew restless and fearful. We, the supernatural’s, knew that fear was a seed that would grow into a storm.
King Theodas, my husband, was a proud and unyielding leader of the elves. His resolve was iron, his blade swift, but even he could not quell the rising tide. Alpha Kainne Oakheart, fierce and loyal, rallied the Lycans with a howl that echoed through the mountains. The witches, fewer in number but no less powerful, cast spells both to protect and to strike back.
The battles were brutal and unrelenting. Forests burned with unnatural fire, rivers ran dark with blood, and the skies roared with thunder from spells unleashed. I remember standing beside Theodas on the battlefield, the weight of our people’s survival heavy on our shoulders. Our enemies were once our neighbors, our friends, and my own kind since I was a human amongst the supernatural —now turned into foes by the cruelty of war.
For years, the war consumed us. Each victory was tainted by loss. Each defeat carved deeper into the soul of Ellmanora. The humans fought with desperation, wielding weapons forged for a war they barely understood. We fought with magic and might, but even that was no guarantee.
As the years dragged on, it became clear that the war would never end if left unchecked. Theodas and I, with Alpha Kainne and the last witches, gathered in the heart of the ancient forest, beneath the oldest trees whose roots tangled with the very essence of magic itself. There, we forged a pact—a barrier spell that would divide our worlds forever.
The magic we wove was unlike any before. It was raw and ancient, pulling from the earth, the sky, and the stars. The barrier rose like a wall of shimmering light, a veil that separated Ellmanora from the rest of the world. Humans were cast out, forced beyond the boundary, unable to cross unless they bore one of the enchanted relics we created—tokens of passage, fragile as hope.
The barrier was meant to end the war, to protect our kind and preserve what remained of Ellmanora’s magic and life. For a time, it did.
But Annabel was no ordinary queen. She was a witch of fierce will and cunning mind. Exiled though she was, she would not accept the loss of her people and her land so easily. In the shadows of the forest, she wove a curse—a trap that would bind the very soul of Ellmanora’s woods.
I remember the day the curse took hold. The air grew thick and heavy, the leaves whispered warnings in a tongue only the oldest trees understood. The ground beneath our feet trembled, and the shadows deepened, twisting into shapes that moved of their own accord. The curse was not just magic—it was a wound, festering and dark.
The forest itself became a prison, its paths shifting and closing, its creatures twisted by the curse’s dark touch, Lavex swallowed by the silence and becoming a shadow. Even the witches who had once tread its paths with confidence hesitated, feeling the weight of Annabel’s vengeance.
I was forced to leave my husband behind carrying my baby as I left. our people became afraid. I as a human was in danger my people no longer trusted me and our empire was in danger of collapsing. so we sacrificed our love for our people.
Now, as I sit by the fading light of my final days, I feel the memory like a living thing inside me. The pact we made, the barrier we built, and the curse that lingers—these are the threads that bind my life’s story.
And I wonder—was the barrier truly a shield, or merely a cage? Did we protect Ellmanora, or condemn it to a slow death, strangled by the curse that waits like a coiled serpent beneath the trees?
The war was over, yes. But the darkness was far from done.
Somewhere, deep in the cursed heart of the forest, something waits. Something ancient and hungry. And as my breath grows shallow, the last thing I see is the flicker of movement—something watching, patient and unyielding.
The story is not finished. Not yet. ×