Elira's heart thundered in her chest, louder than the distant storm.
The Beast of Nithara stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shrouded in mist.
His form was both terrifying and regal—a hulking creature of clawed limbs and twisted horns, fur bristling like the shadows had taken shape.
Yet something in his stance was... still. Measured. He did not attack.
Not yet.
"I came to ask for your help," she said again, her voice steadier this time.
The Beast's eyes flickered—twin embers glowing in the fog.
"They all come for help , Or glory , Or foolish answers."
"I seek healing," Elira said.
"For my father. He's dying."
The Beast circled her slowly, his heavy steps soundless on the forest floor.
"And you think I can save him."
"I know you can."
He paused behind her, silent.
Then—he laughed.
It was not a cruel sound, but hollow.
Tired. "Mortals. Always so certain of what they do not understand."
Elira turned to face him fully.
"Then help me understand."
The Beast's eyes narrowed.
"No one enters the Heartwood without giving something in return,
" he said. "It is law.
Older than you. Older than me."
"What do you want?"
"Your time."
"My—?"
"Your life.
In part.
One moon cycle.
You stay here.
You obey the rules of this forest.
You do not leave unless I allow it."
A full moon cycle.
Thirty days.
Her breath caught.
"Then I'll do it," she said, surprising even herself.
The Beast studied her for a long moment.
His expression—if he had one—was unreadable beneath the fur and horns.
"You accept my terms? Without knowing the cost?"
"I've seen the cost of doing nothing," she said.
"It's lying in my father's bed right now."
A breeze passed between them, rustling the leaves with a whisper that sounded almost like approval.
"Then speak your name, mortal," the Beast said, stepping closer.
"And enter the pact."
"Elira Vane," she said.
The Beast bowed his head.
"Then welcome to the Forgotten Realms, Elira Vane.
Your bargain is sealed."
The wind shifted.
Somewhere far above, the clouds broke—and for the first time, faint moonlight poured through the forest canopy.
And far beneath the roots of the Elderwood, something stirred.