We turned around and realized that a strikingly beautiful woman, approximately our age, was standing behind us. Her hair was an exact replica of Edmund's —auburn with long soft waves, and her eyes were a shade of darker green than his. Her facial features were sharp and well-defined, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and full lips. Her makeup was impeccable. She was wearing a black leather jacket over a dark purple blouse, and her black skinny jeans paired with stilettos highlighted her figure. She shifted gracefully, allowing her body to find comfort as she leaned into one leg, the other slightly bent at the knee.
Edmund's eyes were wide and unblinking; he was as still as a statue, horrified. In an instant, he let go of my hand and got up from the table we were sitting at; the silver pyramid shining from the sun rays that filtered through the café windows. Eva wore a playful expression, rather pleased with herself for having caught us unawares.
"Eva, what are you doing here? We're... us…" Edmund tried to explain, but the words were frozen in his throat.
"Well, well, looks like the little brother isn't so little anymore. Keeping secrets now, are we? Don't worry, your scandal is safe with me... for now," Eva interrupted, her smile lopsided; she seemed to be enjoying this.
"Hi!" I said, raising my hand in greeting, "My name's Levi. I'm… well, it doesn't matter what I am, just please don't make this harder for Ed," I implored her, seeing how devastated he looked; his gaze was down, his shoulders hunched ever so slightly and, worst of all, he was profusely blushing. Eva suddenly turned to look at me, her impish expression remaining.
"Ed? Now that's endearing. He calls you that?" She asked Edmund, while pointing at me with her index finger. He made no response. "I see my brother doesn't have bad taste himself, huh," she said, approaching me closer than I was accustomed to. I didn't have room to step back, so I looked away and she giggled.
"Eva, leave him alone, please. We'll speak at home," Edmund defended me, his voice tone resolute. Final.
"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds. I look forward to meeting you more, Levi. For now, it'll be our little secret. Au revoir, bébé," she chuckled as she said that, winked at me, and turned around elegantly. We followed her with our eyes until she exited the café. We were completely shaken by this exchange. She was a dazzling and intriguing woman, but mischievousness was in her soul. My heart, once steady and sure when I came, now fluttered erratically in my chest, a wild bird trapped and seeking escape. Probably Edmund's was the same, if not worse.
"Edmund, do you trust me?" I asked him. He looked at me, his expression puzzled, as if to say, "Haven't I demonstrated that I do?"
"What do you mean? You know I do," he replied. Only after hearing his response did I extend my hand, which he grabbed. I led him out of the café, across the zebra crossing, towards the Apartment's Gate. I was uncertain how well this would work out, but I wanted him to feel happy, loved, and content with himself, and most of all, with us. He had a strong partner by his side, ready to be with him in sickness and in health.
"Levi! Where are you taking me?" he pressed.
"Just trust me," I replied, my face spreading with joy. We crossed the Apartment's Gate and soon were enveloped by the school campus parks. I led him a few miles in, then veered off the road into the wilds. "Levi, I don't think that's very wise," his reluctance was palpable, but I pressed on, knowing he needed to see and be shown, and this was the only way. I stopped mid-track, without saying a word, and kissed his cheek. Immediately afterward, I created a few feet of distance between us, playfully dodging him. He soon caught on and tried to approach me. I dodged him once more and started running through the forest. "Don't stay behind," I shouted back.
He soon began chasing me, trees racing past us. The wind was dancing its way out of our faces. Noticing him gaining ground on me, I sped up. For an instant, he matched my speed, and we were side by side, our arms stretched out to touch each other's hands as we ran. Our fingers brushed against each other, but we both had to pull away quickly as a tree came between us. The sunlight caressed his face, making his dark red hair glitter; my tide eyes otherworldly in beauty and majesty. We ran until our Blessed Grove came into view from the opposite side than usual. The snow had completely melted in these days, the sun shone more brightly than before, aided by the luminescence of the golden and silver leaves of the Tree. The grass was immaculately green, untouched by winter. We both heaved, trying to catch our breath. Tranquility and peace crept in, making our past problems seem petty and small. Edmund looked breathtaking, his blue-green eyes shining with life. The Grove was reinvigorating us.
"Don't you think this Grove always finds us, rather than the other way around?" I asked Edmund, after catching my breath. There was something definitely interesting about this particular place in the whole park – the Great Tree in the middle, its leaves, the Pond surrounding it, the way we always found it by chance. I craved more answers.
"It is rather odd, I'll give you that. It's just chance, I guess," he replied, though I doubted that skepticism was the answer. He approached me and extended his hand, leading me towards the Great Tree. We stepped on the rocks breaking the surface and crossed the quiet Pond. Edmund rested his back against the immense Tree trunk and slid down. Once he was on the ground, he patted it, indicating for me to join him. So, I did, soon finding myself in his warm embrace, listening to his heart under the Tree's shade. A sense of protection and safety enveloped my entire being. I knew, without any doubt, that I was as safe here as I would ever be in my life, safer than at home, for some reason.
"You'll work it out with your sister, Edmund. So, what if she knows our secret? I'm sure that if you ask her, she won't tell a soul. She might be bold and cheeky, but from what you've told me, she seems like a good person," I told him, sensing his heart rate increase. Thud, thud, thud, in rapid succession. I immediately reproached myself for bringing up the topic again.
"I'll handle it, but I know her; she has a big mouth and might slip up. I'll owe her big time if I want to keep her quiet. It won't be cheap, but I don't want you worrying about anything. I know how to deal with my sister," he emphasized on the last 'you', assuring me that I had nothing to worry about. Only time would tell. For now, we were safe and sound. However, I tried to protest.
"But, if she…" I began, but Edmund's right fingers covered my mouth. "Shh shh, everything is going to be fine. Just pay attention to your boyfriend, and he will take you far and wide," he assured, lowering himself, closing his eyes, and planting a full kiss on both of my lips, soothing me slowly as I mirrored his motions. Slowly, I remained quiet, the purity of the place assuring me that there was truly nothing to worry about. I found shelter in Edmund's chest as his pulse slowed, so I started counting his heartbeats until I lost consciousness.
"LEVI! WAKE UP!" Edmund's shouts jolted me awake. I glanced around to find everything in perfect stillness, a chill in the air, yet the sun was shining. Edmund's chest heaved with agitation, the reason for which I was soon to discover.
"Why did you have to wake me up like that?" I groggily asked, the remnants of sleep still clinging to my eyes, which I rubbed away with my sleeves.
"Because it's 11 am, dummy, and we were supposed to be in school since 9 am!" He exclaimed, suddenly getting up as I sat upright, crossing the Pond, and pacing up and down the Grove. "What are you waiting for? Hurry up!"
"Jeez, I didn't realize we'd take such a long nap. It felt nice with you, though," I said, tousling the back of my head and rising from the ground. Quickly, we crossed the Grove, exiting through the western border, and briskly made our way to the nearest road. We dashed toward the Humanities Department building, soon greeted by its Romanesque facade. We ascended the stairs and headed toward our next class: Statistics. For better or for worse, this class was shared with the Computer Algorithm course that Jacob (my best friend) and his friends were taking —yes, the ones who had bullied me a few months ago. This was our first class together, and I was both excited and apprehensive. I hadn't told Edmund about my history with his friends. I doubted he would take it lightly, and I didn't want problems with my best friend or these people, including Edmund. I anticipated his reaction. We reached the classroom door; Edmund opened it and entered first, glancing back at me. I took a deep sigh and followed. "Everything alright?" he whispered. I nodded, soon noticing Jacob and his friends—Mark, Ethan, Caleb, Scott, and Chase—seated in the bottom left corner of the room. Jacob noticed me and waved; I returned the gesture and looked away. "Let's sit in the right corner, Ed," I suggested, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
"Did something delay your arrival to class?" the professor inquired, his tone strained and marked by annoyance.
"Excuse us, professor. It won't happen again," Edmund responded with his impeccable accent.
By then, we had found two seats for ourselves and settled in. We followed our routine: setting our laptops on the table and, after a while, seeking each other's hand beneath it. This time, Edmund patted my leg, and taking the cue, I soon gave him my left hand. Distracted, I paid little attention to the class. However, I mustered all my willpower to turn my body away from the bullies, not granting them even a short glance —and unfortunately, that included my best friend, who was now with them. I also noticed other familiar classmates, such as Scarlett Johnson, the model-like girl who always drew stares; Noah Carter, a somewhat cool guy and a good student willing to share anything college-related; and Tyler Skywalker, seated nearby—he was the guy Edmund had rejected for the group work, and I suspected he had shown some romantic interest in me. Just thinking about it made me slightly fuzzy, embarrassment and an icky feeling creeping up my chest.
"Alright, class, I want you to remember that statistics is not just about numbers and data; it's about understanding the world around us," Mr. Archer began. "Today, we're going to explore the concept of probability and how it applies to everyday life." He concluded the lesson, took attendance, and briskly exited the classroom, seemingly in a hurry.
"Did you catch his name?" I casually asked Edmund.
"Levi, where were you? It was on the whiteboard. He's Mr. Archer," he replied, his brows now subtly creased with worry.
As we gathered our things, I noticed Jacob leaving his friends behind and coming towards us. Mark's voice rang out mockingly, "Jake, what are you doing going over to the faggot? We've told you to stay away."
"Shut up, Mark," Jacob retorted.
Edmund's face suddenly contorted with rage, his beautiful features twisting into an expression of fury. "What did you call him?" he uttered in a barely audible voice, advancing on Mark until they were inches apart. Edmund matched Mark in height, intensifying the tension.
"I called him what he is, as I already have before. And he knows this," Mark sneered.
Edmund, seething with anger, retorted, "You already have?" A wicked grin spread across his face. "I'll wait for you outside. Someone's gotta teach you a lesson."
"Count me in. Me and the boys will leave you unrecognizable, cutie," Mark taunted, his friends cheering him on.
Jacob interjected, "Guys, this is going too far. Mark, back off!" I remained silent, processing the escalating situation.
"You don't know who you're messing with," Edmund spat, his expression demonic.
As noon approached, signifying lunch break, Edmund declared, "I'll be in the forest, right outside school. I'll meet you there," and left the classroom.
I addressed Jacob, my eyes swirling with agitation. "Look what your friends are doing," I said before rushing to follow Edmund. "We'll wreck your boyfriend," the bullies' jeers echoed behind me.
Catching up to Edmund, who had stormed down the steps outside the Humanities Department, I called out, "Edmund, wait!" He slowed down, allowing me to reach him. His expression was still one of uncontrollable rage.
"They have no idea who they're messing with. I'll have to control myself. Distract me while I'm here, so I calm down before they arrive," he said as we reached the forest. The dense canopy blocked the sunlight, creating a secluded area. We were a good distance away for the authorities to hear the upcoming commotion.
"Edmund, I don't think this is a good idea. Let's just go home. We can snuggle in bed, do something fun," I suggested, trying to defuse his anger.
He laughed at my suggestion, replying, "There'll be plenty of that."
Soon, we noticed the bullies' gang approaching, hooting and laughing, with Jacob trailing behind. Whether Jacob intended to intervene for better or worse was unclear, but I knew he had a good heart.
"So here we are," said Mark, while Edmund remained quiet, keeping a distance between them, observing who would approach him first. Scott and Chase flanked Mark, while the rest stayed behind with Jacob. It was Chase who first ran towards Edmund. Being the biggest of them all, he seemed the most foolish as well, as speed was not his forte. Edmund gracefully shifted and dodged him, his left hand swiftly going to Chase's nape, then he danced out of his way. Chase grunted and fell numb to the floor. Seeing his friend unconscious, Scott became enraged and approached Edmund with stealth and care. Edmund sized him up until they were close enough for Scott to throw a punch. He missed, and Edmund hurled a fist with the force of a tempest, smacking him squarely on the left side of the face. The noise of his nose cracking was deafening. He, too, bit the dust, leaving Edmund unscathed. Mark remained motionless, fear shading his facial expression. He knew there was no escape now. Edmund was a demon, and now, he was alone to fend for himself as the rest of the group remained still as statues, frightened. With a speed that only a feline could achieve, Edmund was right next to Mark. Mark tried to land a blow to his upper arm, and for a moment, it seemed he had succeeded. I gasped, but Edmund appeared untouched, as though a butterfly had just alighted on his shoulder. With his hand open, between his index finger and thumb, he struck Mark's throat squarely. Mark fell to his knees, grasping his throat, gasping for air. The scene was shocking, impactful. Edmund leaned close to his ear and said, "I tried hard not to kill any of you. I had to measure my strength. Next time, I won't be so careful. Value your breath, if you intend to keep it," he whispered, audible only to me, as I approached him to try to calm him down and take him home. The rest of the group was shaken. Ethan and Caleb helped Chase and Scott up, while Jacob assisted Mark, who was still gasping for breath. "I'm sorry, Levi," Jacob said, his voice constricted. "We'll speak at home, Jacob," I replied as the bullies fled. Edmund burst out laughing. Clearly, he was deranged, but I highly doubted they would mess with us again.
"Ed, are you alright?" I asked him, my tone strained. This day had been a wreck. I knew nothing good was going to come from having those morons in a class together. I had already figured Edmund would not react lightly to their bullying, but I never thought for a moment it would escalate to this level of aggressiveness.
"You're asking me if I'm alright, love? I'm perfect. I taught those dimwits a lesson. They're never going to disrespect you again," he replied as we approached a lonely bench by the side of the road. "But they're so big and intimidating, weren't you even afraid for a moment?" I asked him as I hugged him with my right arm, and he embraced me with his left.
"Levi, Levi, Levi, when are you going to learn that brute strength is not the point? Do you want to know what is?" He asked, and I nodded in response. "Knowing how and where to hit," he added.
"Oh, Edmund, you had me so worried. I thought they were going to mess you up so bad that I was going to have to spend days in the infirmary as you healed. And when Mark hit your arm, I almost fainted, no kidding. How are you feeling about it? Does it hurt?" I pressed, worry winding its way through my mind like ivy creeping over an abandoned building.
"That?" He asked while making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "That was nothing; he barely scraped me. I grew overconfident after the two fell to the floor with just one blow. In truth, it was no worse than when you're walking, and you bump into something. It doesn't even hurt anymore," his answer made me sigh in reaction; I had been so worried this whole morning about this upcoming class that I knew was going to be rough. I became very stressed about the repercussions of today's event. What if the bullies reported Edmund to the police for assault? What if instead they just reported him to the authorities and got him expelled? I couldn't begin to consider how my life would turn upside down if that were the case. I concluded I couldn't leave him, no matter what happened to him. If he was going down, I was too. All this happened because he defended me. Maybe I'm the problem.
I retracted my arm, put my elbows on my knees, and covered my face with my hands. Soon after, I felt Edmund rubbing my back. My eyes, now seeking refuge in the sanctuary of the darkness my hands provided, avoided Edmund's piercing gaze. Each beat of my heart throbbed in my ears, a drumbeat of mortification that seemed to drown out the world around me. I inhaled and exhaled a few times until the knot finally subsided, and I lifted my head, noticing Edmund looking at me, full of apprehension.
"I am more worried about you, love. You don't seem to be okay, and I want you to be okay. I did this because I love you and because I can't tolerate anyone disrespecting you like that. You're my heart's keeper, and your job is to take care of it. On the other hand, my job is to take care of you," he said while grabbing my chin and kissing my lips softly. Then, he placed both his hands around my head and kissed each of my cheeks, followed by my forehead, and then each of my eyes. I giggled, and he continued until he said, "I'll kiss you until I make it better."
"I love you much more, Ed," I replied and embraced him deeply. We remained like that for a while longer until we let go, yet our hands were still firmly clasped. "What do you want to do now, Ed? Do you want to head back to class? After all, lunch break must be over," I asked him, debating in my mind whether I wanted to go to class or back home, to lay in bed and cry for a while until the world seemed like a better place. Even if it was just in my head. Delusional, I concluded.
My reverie was broken when Edmund decided to head back to class. Fortunately, we were not sharing any more classes with the bullies for the rest of the week. As we approached the classroom, I noticed Tyler Skywalker waiting outside it. The professor hadn't arrived yet, it seemed.
"Hey, Tyler," I said as he looked up. "What's up?" He replied. Edmund merely nodded and looked at me with a puzzled expression. We had stopped holding hands once we had left the privacy of the road, and the Humanities Department's entrance was becoming crowded. For once, I respected it. We would go at our own pace; we could already see what the repercussions of being out in the open could bring us. I also concluded that I wanted to be a friendlier and more open person towards my classmates; maybe we couldn't be friends, but things could be on good terms with them. Who knows?
"Hey, Ed, would you like to go to the library to do our assignments after today's classes?" I asked him before the professor arrived for class. More students were gathering around the classroom door, waiting.
"Of course, lov… Lev," he quickly corrected himself. In a "friendly" gesture from my part, trying to offer some degree of comfort before he could feel embarrassed, I playfully pushed him.
After a while longer, the professor, Ms. Smith, arrived, and we spent the remainder of the school day attending classes and interacting with classmates. I found myself incessantly glancing at the clock, especially during our last class, which I didn't share with Edmund. Out of the four classes, we shared three. In that last class, I was alone, except for a few familiar classmates like Scarlett Johnson, Tyler and his buddy Noah Carter. As soon as the clock signaled the end of the final class, I hurried towards the exit. Edmund had become essential to me, as vital as breathing itself.
I briskly walked through the classroom corridor, passed through the hall of the Humanities Department adorned with the capybara mother and her babies, descended the stairs, and found myself on the road. I quickened my pace towards the library. When the imposing structure of the Pantheon library came into view, I saw Edmund's striking figure. "Edmund!" I exclaimed, as if it had been months since our last encounter. He bent down to his knees as if greeting a child and opened his arms. I ran into his embrace, nearly causing us both to tumble to the ground, but we managed to stay upright, snuggled into each other's shoulders. His familiar scent filled my senses as I exhaled deeply. "I love you," he whispered in my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some bystanders glancing our way, but they quickly moved on, and I didn't give it much thought.
We ascended the stairs to the library, where we were greeted by sunlight streaming through its crystalline dome. Selecting a table, we settled down. "Did you decide which subject you're going to work on first, Ed?" I inquired, driven by curiosity.
"Yes, love," he replied.
Suddenly, I heard a whisper behind me, "Levi." It sounded ethereal, originating from somewhere nearby. I turned, expecting to find its source in the bookshelf behind me. Approaching it, I found nothing but thousands of books. Was it possible the books were speaking to me? I wondered, acknowledging my own incredulity. Turning back towards our table, the whisper came again, "Levi" this time more distant. Intrigued, I followed the sound, leading me to the library's back wall. The area was lined with hundreds of bookshelves, standing side by side. I scanned the area to the right: nothing. Glancing back, I noticed Edmund approaching. Then, to the left: "LEVI," the voice called urgently. I began running down the aisle, following the insistent call. "Levi, where are you going?" Edmund's voice reached me, a loud whisper in the quiet of the library. I persisted, racing through the labyrinth of shelves, each turn revealing the voice further away. Finally, I entered another circular hall, its walls adorned with elaborately designed books reaching towards the ceiling, complete with library ladders.
In the middle of this room stood a single book, prominently displayed on a dark, wooden lectern. I found myself contemplating this puzzling hall in awe for a few minutes until Edmund reached me. "What are we doing here? What is this place?" he whispered in my ear. "I don't know. I thought I heard something. Once again, I'll have to ask you to trust me," I replied. With caution yet determination, I began approaching the book that drew me the most—the one in the middle. As we reached it, I saw that it was closed, encased in brown leather, with the form of a tree engraved on its cover. Edmund, remaining silent, stood behind me, gripping my hand. I opened the book to the first yellowed page which read, "The True History as told by the Elders." As I continued to turn the pages, I half-expected them to crumble under my touch, until I finally reached the beginning, where it read:
"In the midst of an era lost to time, before the reign of kings and the birth of legends, there existed a blackness so vast and mystical that its very existence has been etched into the annals of the universe. Our realm—spoken of in such terms only by the Elders—holds secrets and truths far beyond the reach of mortal beings. The world you know is but a shadow of what once was, a mere reflection in the mirror of existence."
Edmund, standing silently beside me, gripped my hand tighter as I read aloud from the aged tome. It continued:
"In the midst of nothingness, there emerged a blinding light, unparalleled in its brilliance, never to be seen again while Time himself endures. Suddenly, a Tree sprouted forth. Branch by branch, root by root, it grew, asserting its presence. As its roots spread, it brought forth the earth around it, and thus the Great Tree took form, its roots burrowing into the heart of the newly formed Earth. As the Tree matured, the world quaked around it; earthquakes unfolded, mountains rose in cataclysmic upheaval. Over aeons, the Tree grew colossal, its leaves of gold and silver casting luminance upon the barren earth, yet no life stirred.
From its roots, the spirit of the Tree clothed itself in earthly elements. Its form was humanoid, skin gleaming with the hue of its golden leaves, hair of silver mirroring its other foliage. It beheld its primal creation: a world in chaos. Then, the One God spoke, a voice without form, 'The light you have birthed within Earth is your charge to maintain. Your existence is sanctioned so you may foster all life, fulfilling My plan for them on Earth. You shall forge every creature as I decree. Yet heed my words: You will create them and put them to slumber for ages. A mistake, by My children in another realm, will usher darkness into this world. Fear not, your light is Eternal; you are, have always been, and will forever be, My son, until My purpose in this realm is achieved. Prepare the way for My creation. I am ever with you.' With these words, the One God's presence receded, and the physical form of the Great Tree dispersed like leaves in a tempest.
Once more, the Tree gathered its will into form, not to behold—but to begin. It first brought forth plant life, adorning mountains with a lushness now lost to time. Continents, oceans, deserts, forests, jungles, plains and rivers – all were the Tree's handiwork. With a golden leaf, it bestowed a blessing and flung it into space, creating the ever-shining sun. With silver leaves, each imbued with a soul, it formed stars, casting some near and others far beyond the sun. A rock, akin to Earth and infused with the sun's reflected light, received the Tree's blessing, becoming the moon, ever close to Earth.
Once the stage was set, the Tree blessed the earth for the advent of living beings. Seeds planted by the Tree birthed magical and non-magical creatures alike: Elves, fairies, dwarves, dryads, naiads, muses, forest spirits, centaurs, satyrs, dragons in volcanic lava, alongside humans and animals. Surveying the finished work, the Tree found it good, yet the advent of evil was imminent.
For ages, the Tree slumbered, awakening only when an ominous presence neared. Shining brighter than ever, alongside the Sun, it repelled the Great Enemy, Valakkar, who fled in horror to the world's southernmost reaches, far from the Tree's influence. Though filled with malice and might, he found himself unable to challenge the Tree, its ancient light too steadfast, its radiance blunting his power in this world. Seething yet restrained, he retreated, forced to lurk beyond the Tree's reach.
Having fulfilled the One God's request, the Tree assumed form for the third time and awakened every creature, both magical and non-magical. 'Be vigilant, my children,' it warned. 'You awaken to a world where evil already lurks. Stay near, and you shall be shielded; no malevolence can approach me.' With this counsel, the Tree faded once more. Great Elven and Human Kingdoms of peace flourished around it, but those with malevolent hearts, disdaining their rulers, journeyed south, where Valakkar, the Great Enemy, sowed his seeds of lies and discord among the Free Folk.'"
As we stood before the ancient tome, immersed in its narrative, a sense of awe enveloped us. The book, proclaiming itself a record of 'history', unraveled tales so vivid and enthralling that it felt as though we were transported through time and space to a realm where magic was a tangible reality. Our time was dwindling, the closing hours of the library fast approaching, so with a sense of urgency, I leafed through the pages. Then, a heading caught my eye: "This is a love story, unlike any the world has ever seen."
Intrigued, I turned to Edmund, suggesting, "Hey, this looks captivating. How about we delve into this tale?" He nodded, his attention still firmly anchored to the book, too absorbed in its mystique to utter a word.
"When the world was still in its youth and magic—known then as the Elderforce—held sway over the land, the Great Tree brought forth creation, its radiant presence infusing the Earth with life and light. Beneath its roots, amid the beauty of the sacred Grove, a single stone absorbed a fragment of this pure radiance, becoming something unique. This stone, known as the First Jewel, was not crafted with intention but came into existence spontaneously, as if the Tree's mere presence had left an indelible mark upon the Earth. When the Tree prepared to shape the heavens, gathering its will into form, its hand brushed lightly against the Jewel—a graze of power, no more than a passing touch, yet enough to awaken a radiance unlike any other.
Though its light now surpassed all others in purity, the Tree chose a larger stone to become the Moon, casting it into the skies with its blessing. The First Jewel remained, resting unknown in the sacred Grove—a blessing left behind, glowing quietly beneath the roots. Ages passed, and as the Tree completed its work, it sowed seeds for creatures both magical and mortal. These beings lay in slumber, awaiting the dawn of life. But then Valakkar, the Great Enemy, was cast into the world, an exile from realms beyond, bound in shadow and filled with malice. When he arrived, he found himself in the Sacred Grove, a place radiant with the Tree's lingering light. Disoriented yet drawn by a strange allure, Valakkar ventured deeper into the Grove, his essence recoiling from the overwhelming purity around him.
And then, as if by fate, he saw it—the First Jewel, shining with an ethereal light, a beauty so pure it seemed to defy his very nature. Though he had not come seeking it, the gem's brilliance captivated him, filling him with a profound envy and a desire to possess it. In the depths of his dark heart, he sensed that this jewel held a potency he could exploit, perhaps a power that would grant him strength in this strange new world. However, the Tree's light blazed around the Grove, repelling him whenever he tried to approach.
Desperate to escape the Tree's radiance and seize the jewel, Valakkar shed his physical form, becoming a formless essence that drifted closer. His dark spirit wrapped around the First Jewel, clutching it as he fled southward, far from the Tree's reach. Yet the light within the gem resisted him; its purity clashed violently with his essence, an unyielding flame that weighed upon him like a burning burden. The deeper he traveled into the shadows, the more unbearable the gem's light became.
Finally, when he reached the southernmost reaches of the world, beyond the Tree's most potent influence, Valakkar could bear the First Jewel no longer. Its light, so opposed to his own nature, burned within him like a wound that would not heal. Driven by this relentless agony, Valakkar drew upon the depths of his power to protect the gem from any who might one day seek its light. Investing a dark fragment of his own being, he began to mold the land around it. Where his hands passed, shadowed vines twisted and barren trees rose, creating a living barrier of darkness that reflected his own malice.
The forest did not merely come into being but was born from his very essence, a part of himself embedded within every branch and shadow. This act of creation tied him ever closer to the world, his presence permanently marked by the darkness that now veiled the First Jewel. And so, the Dark Forest was born—not as a conjured illusion, but as an extension of Valakkar's own essence, an enduring prison for the light he could not bear.
From that day, the First Jewel became known as the Forbidden Gem, its light hidden within the heart of the Dark Forest. Though its purity remained intact, it lay surrounded by shadows, a hidden beacon of hope and danger.
As legends of the Forbidden Gem spread, the prophecy became a tale both alluring and ominous. It was said that if unlocked, the gem's light would grant eternal life and unfading youth. Yet the critical warning was lost to time: only one with an untainted spirit could truly unlock its power. Those who sought it with darkness in their hearts would find its light a path to ruin.
Unaware of the Gem's true nature, a witch devised a plan to retrieve it—yet she did not go alone into the shadows. Instead, she sent the child she had stolen long ago, a boy she called her own.
She had taken him from his true parents, lured not only by the prophecy that promised eternal life, but by a deeper hunger she would never name aloud—the hunger for a child who could never leave her.
The village mourned the loss of the boy, and search parties scoured the forests. But the witch's command of the dark arts kept him hidden, bound by spells, by fear, and by the quiet, broken kindness she sometimes showed him—the kind that confuses a child's heart.
Years passed. The boy grew strong, clever, wary. On the eve of his sixteenth year, the witch set him to the task she had long prepared: "Go, my sweet. Seek the Gem in the Black Forest. Beware the Dark Elves and the foul things that serve the Enemy. Bring the Jewel to me, and prove your love."
Her voice was soft. But when he turned to leave, her laughter followed him, sharp as a blade, echoing through the trees.
And so Leon set forth, a donkey at his side, toward the world's southernmost reaches, where the shadow of Valakkar loomed large.
During his travels, which spanned deserts and jungles, he encountered cavernous mountains where a colossal dragon, Harnax, and its rider emerged, scourging the mountaintops with fire as a warning to any who dared approach. Leon extinguished his fire and sought rest. He was abruptly awakened by a sword at his neck.
"Who art thou, stranger?" demanded the dragon rider.
"No one of consequence. My name is Leon, and that is all you need know," he retorted with defiance.
"In no position art thou to make demands, stranger," the knight retorted, dragging him toward the dragon. Harnax roared, flames flickering in its maw, radiating intense heat. In a surge of fear, Leon divulged, "I am on a quest to steal the Forbidden Gem from Valakkar."
Terror gripped his heart, his eyes widening. The knight released him, cautioning, "Speak not his name in these forsaken lands. Here, even the utterance of his dark name harbors danger. I am Edren, prince of the Northern Kingdom, on a quest akin to thine. Henceforth, we journey together."
"You wish," Leon scoffed.
"Thou hast no choice in this matter," Edren replied firmly. Harnax's roar, followed by its ascent, convinced Leon that their destinies were now entwined until their quest's end. Animosity gave way to camaraderie as they shared meals and traversed countless miles, Harnax and the donkey their constant companions. On one occasion, Edren even let Leon mount Harnax alongside him, soaring over the Andwyn mountains, alighting upon its snowy peaks, then returning to camp. Their bond deepened into a brotherhood, Edren teaching Leon swordplay, while Leon imparted lesser spells of healing and fire to the dragon prince.
Together, they traversed the Dark Forest on foot and released the boy's donkey, so he would not suffer the terrible dangers the Forest posed, for even the prince's dragon shied away from flying near its shadowy bounds. They tread carefully, mindful not to alert the Elves serving the Enemy to their presence, slipping through concealed paths known to the Prince.
Evading Venomortis, the colossal basilisk known as the mother of all serpents, they journeyed through endless days and nights, deprived of sunlight and sustained only by their provisions, for all else was tainted with poison. At length, they reached the forest's heart, where the Gem was kept, ensconced within a great rock, carved for its protection.
"Be cautious," Leon warned. "Potent dark magic guards it. I can feel it."
Ignoring the caution, Edren approached the rock. "We have come too far to turn back now," he stated resolutely. As his hand touched the stone, a chilling hiss echoed through the clearing.
Venomortis emerged from the shadows, her massive form coiling around the trees. "Intruders," she spat. In an instant, the serpent ensnared Leon; his cries for help echoed as Edren drew his sword, the Gem still clasped in his other hand.
"Release him!" Edren demanded.
"Yield the Gem, or your companion perishes," Venomortis hissed.
Emerging from the forest's depths, Dark Elves surrounded them, their arrows trained on Edren. Without warning, Harnax descended, engulfing the Elves in flame. With mighty hind legs, the dragon seized Edren and soared away.
Edren's protests to remain, and fight faded into the distance. "Leon, no! I vow to rescue you!" he shouted, his voice filled with anguish.
Leon watched as they disappeared into the sky. "Edren!" he called out, despair gripping his heart.
Bound hand and foot, Leon was dragged toward Morthrond in the southern mountains known as Gasharbrûm, raised by Valakkar to enclose his fortress. Starved and parched, his journey was marked by untold suffering. In the distance, the sight of Edren and Harnax laying waste to the Black Forest stirred within him a sliver of hope. "You are bound for our master," hissed a Dark Elf, his visage a terrifying blend of beauty and malice. "Valakkar will decree your fate."
Upon reaching the Plains of Morthrond, the fortress loomed—vast, unyielding, a monolith of darkness that stood not as stone alone but as a living wound upon the world. Its towering walls swallowed the horizon, and the very air before its gates was thick with dread, bending sound and light beneath its weight. No horns greeted their arrival, no guards called warning. The drawbridge lowered in silence, creaking as though under the strain of some unseen force, and the northern gate yawned open like the maw of a beast that need not roar to inspire horror.
Leon, in chains, was dragged through the gate and into the throne hall—a chamber so vast it defied sense, its arches vanishing into shadow, its pillars carved with the history of horrors unspoken. Around him stood the assembly of the damned: men of cruel lineage, Dark Elves with eyes like embers, Dwarves forged in treachery. But all their presence was as ash before the one seated at the hall's end.
Valakkar Valkareth.
The Dark Lord did not rise. He had no need. Clad in robes that drank the light, each thread woven of shadow itself, his figure seemed at once slender and immense, ethereal and terrible. His skin gleamed pale as moonlit bone, flawless and cold, and his hair fell long and black as the void, drifting faintly as if stirred by winds that touched no other. His ears, sharply pointed, framed a face of haunting beauty—inhuman, flawless, unmarred. But it was his eyes that held dominion over the hall: pits of searing light, blue-white as dying stars, their gaze not fierce but absolute. They did not burn with hatred—they declared their own twisted truth.
Leon's breath caught. His heart faltered. The weight of Valakkar's presence pressed upon him until his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, shivering, his teeth clattering uncontrollably. Fear, pure and undeniable, rooted him where he fell.
Valakkar's voice, when it came, was a low resonance that did not echo, but instead devoured the space around it.
"So. This is the thief."
No anger. No hate laced his voice. Only the finality of fact.
"Cast him below," Valakkar commanded, and at once Leon's chains jerked taut, dragging him backward toward the yawning black of the dungeons. "I shall see him in due time."
The words lingered long after the chamber had emptied, etched into the silence like the echo of a bell that had never been struck.
Down into the depths Leon was taken, through corridors where no torch dared burn, where the stone itself wept with damp and decay. His cell was not made to hold men, but hope—for no hope could survive its walls. Shackled to the cold stone, his arms wrenched high, Leon hung in darkness, the weight of his body gnawing at his joints, his breath shallow beneath the choking damp.
Footsteps approached—measured, unhurried. The door creaked open, and there entered the shadow of Valakkar. Not the full might of the Almar revealed above, but a shadowed semblance, his shape reduced though no less terrifying. His eyes alone remained bright, terrible stars in the dark.
"Where is my Gem?" the Fallen Almar asked, each word sliding like steel beneath Leon's skin.
Leon met his gaze for the briefest moment—and looked away. He hated himself for not being able to hold it.
Valakkar tilted his head, studying the boy as one might study a curiously defiant insect. "You mistake mercy for weakness," he murmured. "But you will come to know the shape of my will."
With a mere flick of his hand, the chains tightened, pressing Leon's ribs until his breath fled him, until pain became a song sung in every nerve. Still, Leon held his silence.
"You will not break me," he rasped, voice raw.
Valakkar smiled then—soft, sad, patient.
"You are already broken. My will shall be done," he announced ominously. "I shall let you carry my mark, little thief. Let your pain be the herald of my coming."
"No," Leon gasped, defiant, as Valakkar's laughter coiled through the shadows, rich and slow, like thunder rolling beneath the earth. From the Dark Lord's lips spilled a vapor black as midnight, a cloud of smoldering malice that slithered through the air and encircled Leon where he hung. The smoke touched his skin, and where it touched, it burned—not with flame, but with a deeper, gnawing corruption that invaded his flesh, his lungs, his very soul. It pressed through his eyes, his ears, his mouth, filling him with an agony that could not be screamed away.
Leon convulsed, every breath a ragged flame, as the darkness ignited him from within. An internal inferno. Yet somewhere beyond the searing haze, Valakkar's voice remained calm, almost gentle: "Go now. Let your pain remind the world whose will endures."
And the blackness overcame Leon's senses. When next faint awareness stirred within him, rough hands dragged his limp form across the dirt, shackles clinking faintly against stone. Dark Elves, eyes like embers, hauled him toward the gates of Morthrond—not in mercy, but in contempt.
"The master says to let him live," one spat. "Let him crawl back if he can." Another laughed, kicking Leon's ribs as he lay motionless.
Overhead, a roar tore through the sky. Harnax descended, the gale of his wings scattering dust and debris, violet fire flickering at the corners of his maw. Edren dropped from the saddle before the drake's talons even met the ground, his sword already in hand.
"You will die for that kick," His voice cut like steel through the gloom.
One Elf raised his blade in challenge, too slow. Edren's sword found his throat before the breath of defiance could leave it. Blood misted the air as the body fell, lifeless. The others turned to fight—but Harnax was faster. The dragon's jaws snapped shut around two, crushing bone and flesh in a single motion. Another was burned down as he tried to flee back into fortress, screaming while his body crumpled down in ruin.
The last fled, vanishing into the dark, their courage broken.
Edren knelt, gathering Leon into his arms. The boy did not wake, but his chest still rose, shallow and weak.
Wordless, grim, Edren mounted once more. With Leon cradled close, he signaled to Harnax. The dragon lifted into the storm-heavy skies, bearing them away from the shadows of Morthrond.
For days they journeyed north, pressing on through bitter winds and biting rain, stopping only when Harnax's strength demanded it. Leon's condition worsened with each passing hour. Fever consumed him, his skin graying to a sickly pallor, his cough raw and unrelenting. His eyes, once bright with defiance, dulled beneath the weight of the poison seeded within him.
'Arras, Harnax!' Edren urged, desperation sharpening his voice as the great drake's wings faltered. But the dragon, wearied beyond measure, could carry them no farther. They crash-landed near the sacred Grove where the Great Tree stood eternal, its roots winding deep into the earth's heart.
Edren dismounted swiftly, cradling Leon in his arms as he brought him to the waters of the Sacred Pond. "Drink," he pleaded. Leon's lips touched the water, but the healing that Edren hoped for did not come—the water soothed only his thirst, leaving the rot within untouched.
Gently, Edren leaned Leon against the trunk of the Tree. The boy's hand rose, trembling, to Edren's face, fingers brushing his cheek. His voice, barely a breath, whispered: 'I love you.'
Edren's eyes shone with tears. He bent low, pressing a kiss, tender and broken, to Leon's withered lips. But Leon could not return it. His gaze drifted upward toward the sky, softening, then fading as the last breath left him.
'I love you, too,' Edren choked, laying his head upon Leon's chest. His voice cracked as he turned to the towering Tree above them. 'Great Tree, hear the plea of your child. Help me, I beseech you.'
Silence hung heavy—until the leaves above stirred, though no wind blew. From the depths of the Tree's ancient core, a voice rose, vast and sorrowful: 'I hear thy plea, O Child of the Forest,' it intoned. 'Yet beyond my aid, he now lies. Rejoice, for I decree that thine paths shall intertwine once more, bound together for all the ages to come, so long as Time himself endures.'
At the word, the Grove blazed with a light fierce as the first dawn. Branches reached down, tender yet mighty, encircling Leon's lifeless form, drawing him into the Tree's embrace. Edren, watching, his heart torn open, felt both loss and hope as the sacred union took hold.
His grief became resolve.
'Harnax! Harnax!' Edren cried, his voice sharp as a blade cutting through the heavy air. From the heights, the great dragon answered—wings stirring the ground as he descended, the earth trembling beneath his landing. Without hesitation, Edren mounted, the Forbidden Gem at his chest blazing, its fierce light casting long shadows across the field.
Together they soared southward, back toward Morthrond, where shadows reigned. Harnax's roars split the skies open as they neared, a torrent of violet fire raining down upon the fortress below. Above the crackle of dragonfire, Edren's challenge rang clear and unwavering:
'Valakkar, thou coward! Emerge from thy dark hold and face me!'
The ground groaned beneath the weight of that call, the gates of Morthrond creaked open. From the shadowed archway stepped Valakkar—not hastily, but with the slow, deliberate stride of one certain of the outcome. His form towered, hammer of war held loosely in one hand, more a symbol of dominion than a weapon. The stars above seemed to tremble.
Edren stood ready, helm set, sword raised, the Gem's radiance pulsing at his chest—defiant against the encroaching darkness.
Valakkar's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in the cool curiosity of one observing the final flutter of a moth against the night.
And the battle began.
The earth shuddered beneath Valakkar's presence, time itself seeming to slow with each step the prince took toward him. Edren's breath grew labored, the weight of inevitability pressing upon him as the seconds stretched unbearably long.
With a cry born of grief and fury, Edren pushed forward. The Gem's light surged with him, empowering each stride, sharpening his resolve. His sword swung down—swift, sure. But as the blade neared Valakkar, its steel unraveled, dissolving into ash before it could find flesh.
The Dark Lord did not move. His hammer remained lowered. Only his will spoke, and the world obeyed.
From above, Harnax's roar echoed, violet flames cascading toward the Almar—but they froze mid-flight, suspended, then folded inward and vanished. Not even the air stirred near Valakkar.
"You were never meant for this fight," Valakkar's voice drifted softly across the space between them. His hand rose—not in anger, but in calm dominion—and with a mere gesture, Edren's body locked in place, suspended by the tightening fabric of reality itself.
But the Forbidden Gem flared, resisting the crushing force, its brilliance blinding. For the first time, Valakkar's head turned—not with fear, but with the faintest recognition. Edren's feet touched earth once more, his frame trembling beneath the strain, yet his gaze remained unyielding.
"I was never meant to win," Edren said, voice steady. "Only to stand my own."
The Gem's radiance surged, encircling him in a halo of searing light. The ground split beneath him, light lancing upward, defying the suffocating dark. Raising the remnants of his blade, Edren hurled himself forward again.
Valakkar's hand did not rise in defense—it rose in claim. As Edren leapt to meet him, the Dark Lord's fingers closed around him, halting his charge before it met its mark. And there, caught between the might of a god and the fire of the Gem, the prince was broken.
The prince struggled, the Gem's light flaring violently against the Almar's grip, searing at his fingers—but Valakkar's hold only tightened. His fingers curled around Edren's body, squeezing with relentless force. Bone cracked, breath fled, and life was crushed beneath the merciless strength of an ancient will.
"Bold," Valakkar murmured, his voice low, reverent. "But still only a prince."
In that last breathless instant, the Forbidden Gem flared brighter than ever before, pouring its agony into the Dark Lord's flesh, burning deep into his palm. The light clawed at him, a final defiance that rattled the very stones of Morthrond. With a sharp hiss, Valakkar recoiled, casting Edren's broken body aside as the searing brilliance blackened his hand to the bone, the unbearable sting of the Tree's untainted light marking him even as his will endured.
The Gem, still bound to Edren by love and sacrifice, clung fast against his chest, its glow sorrowful and unwavering.
Above, Harnax shrieked—a howl of anguish and rage. Diving swift and sure, the dragon swept low, seizing Edren's fallen body along the Gem before Valakkar's grasp could close upon them again. Wings pounding the storm-heavy skies, Harnax soared northward, bearing the prince away from the shadow of Morthrond.
Valakkar stood unmoved, watching their retreat. His hand smoldered, seared by the light—but as the dragon vanished into the northern skies, the charred flesh began to mend, knitting itself back together beneath the weight of his will, leaving no mark but the memory of defiance.
In the years that followed, the Gem remained a treasured relic, safeguarded by successive kings—a royal jewel stained with the blood of a Prince."
Thus concluded the poignant tale of Edren and Leon, a love story etched in the annals of time, entwined with the origins of the Forbidden Gem and the malice of Valakkar. The legend of the Gem continued to be both alluring and ominous—a beacon of hope and danger, bound by fate to a prophecy that tested the hearts of those who sought it.
"Wow," Edmund and I both exclaimed in unison, utterly captivated the story. It definitely left us thinking deeply about our own romance and the adventures we've had. As we read about Leon's escape from Valakkar's dungeon, without even realizing it, our hands had become intertwined, so engrossed were we in the tale.
Suddenly, a grave voice pierced the silence, accompanied by the sound of footsteps. "Who's there? This place is off-limits for students," the voice said sternly. We gasped, looking at each other with wide eyes.