The world of Erlathia moved with a quiet magic most people never noticed.
The mountains breathed mist at dawn.
The rivers glowed with silver light when the moon rose.
And beneath the ancient Heart Tree, where roots twisted like the veins of the earth, Elira often came to escape the weight of her own loneliness.
Tonight, she only wanted silence — a place to breathe, away from the noise of people who never truly saw her.
She knelt by the glowing river, plucking moonpetal flowers. Their soft light brushed her skin, calming the ache in her chest that never fully went away.
But then the river… stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The silver current froze mid-flow as if trapped inside a spell. Even the night insects fell quiet, leaving the world suspended in a breath that felt wrong.
Elira stood slowly, her heart trembling.
That was when she saw him.
A man knelt at the river's edge, half-hidden by the shadows of the towering roots. His silver hair shimmered faintly even in the dim light, but everything else about him was frighteningly still — except the trembling of his hands as he clutched his chest.
Dark smoke curled from his skin, like something inside him was trying to escape.
Elira's first instinct was fear — the kind that clutches your throat and warns you to run.
Everyone in Erlathia had heard the tales: cursed wanderers, outcasts touched by ancient spirits, walking disasters that brought ruin to anyone foolish enough to pity them.
Yet, when she looked at him… the fear melted.
There was something painfully human in the way he struggled to breathe, in the quiet, desperate sound he made — the sound of someone fighting a battle he had already lost too many times.
And the loneliness in his posture… it mirrored hers.
Without thinking, Elira stepped closer. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Are you hurt?"
His eyes snapped open.
Storm-gray, sharp, full of a sadness so deep it felt like looking into a wounded world. His breath hitched when he saw her, as though he recognized something in her face — something he had been searching for.
"Elira…" he breathed.
Her heart stopped. "How do you know my name?"
He didn't answer — his body tensed as if he were in pain too great to speak. Veins of darkness crept across his arms, spreading like black lightning beneath his skin.
And then the sky broke.
A loud crack split the air like a shattering mirror. Stars flickered violently, shrinking into dim sparks. Clouds churned in spirals, pulled inward by a force Elira could not see.
The ground trembled beneath her feet.
"Elira—run."
His voice was a rough, urgent plea.
But her legs refused to move. Fear pinned her in place, wrapping cold fingers around her spine.
"Please," he begged, grabbing her wrist. His hand was cold—too cold. "You shouldn't be near me. The curse… it's awakening."
"What curse?" she asked, her throat tightening.
Before he could answer, a shadow rose from the river.
It had no face — only a tall, twisting figure, made of darkness thicker than night. It moved like smoke underwater, silent and hungry.
The man staggered forward, shielding her with his body.
Dark marks shot up his neck as the curse reacted, tearing through him with violent force.
Elira reached for him without thinking.
"Let me help—!"
He caught her hand.
The moment their skin touched, a burst of white light exploded between them — warm, pure, and alive. The shadow lurched back with a shriek that stabbed the air.
Elira gasped, staring at her glowing hand.
"What… what's happening to me?"
His expression broke — a mix of disbelief and relief so powerful it made her chest ache.
"It's you," he whispered, breath shaking.
"You're the one… the only one who can break this."
"I don't understand—"
"You're not meant to." He smiled weakly — a sad, heartbreaking smile meant to comfort her even as he suffered. "Not yet."
The shadow surged forward.
With a hoarse cry, he shoved Elira away, taking the full force of the darkness into his own body. He collapsed instantly, the curse tightening around him like chains.
His breaths came out as white frost.
"Elira…" His voice trembled, fragile as cracked glass. "Don't… leave… me…"
She dropped to her knees beside him, tears blurring her vision.
She didn't know him.
She shouldn't have cared.
And yet she cared too much — as if some invisible thread had tied her heart to his long before this night.
"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please don't die. Please."
The shadow reared up to strike again.
Elira flinched—
—and the Heart Tree awakened.
Its roots burst from the ground, glowing brighter than the moon, forming a living barrier around them. The shadow slammed into it, let out a furious hiss, and dissolved into nothing.
Silence crashed down.
The man lay unconscious, his hand still locked around hers, as if even in sleep he feared losing her.
Elira pressed her forehead to his, her tears falling on his cold skin.
"I don't know who you are," she whispered shakily,
"but I won't let fate take you from me."
Under the earth, the Heart Tree pulsed with ancient magic — the kind that only awakens when destiny is at work, and somewhere deep in the roots,a prophecy whispered softly:
Two hearts bound by sorrow.
Two souls cursed together.
Their love will save or destroy the world.
Elira didn't know it yet.
But her life — and his — had just become one.