Forgotten Realm

Lyra sat in the small, dimly lit room above her herb shop, her mind racing. The air felt thick with magic, the kind she had only ever read about in the old books her grandmother kept hidden away. She stared at the man across from her—Kieran, his silver hair now tied back in a loose ponytail, his wound carefully bandaged.

"You said I was the Keeper," Lyra whispered, her voice barely a breath. "What does that mean? And why me?"

Kieran's gaze softened as he leaned back against the wooden chair. "You are the chosen one, Lyra. The Keeper's power is passed down through generations, waiting for the moment it is needed most. It is the only force that can stop the coming darkness. But I fear the journey ahead will be more difficult than you imagine."

Lyra looked out the window, her thoughts a whirlwind. "I don't understand. All I've ever wanted was a quiet life. What if I'm not strong enough for this?"

"You're stronger than you know," Kieran replied quietly. "But there are things you must learn before the darkness finds you. You're not alone in this."

The sound of muffled footsteps interrupted their conversation. Lyra's heart skipped a beat. The village was never this loud at night. Kieran immediately stood, his hand on the hilt of his blade, eyes narrowing toward the door.

Before Lyra could speak, the door burst open, and Arlen, a local blacksmith and childhood friend, rushed in. His face was pale, eyes wide with panic.

"They're coming," Arlen gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "The Duskwraiths—they're not far. I saw them in the woods."

Lyra's blood ran cold. She had seen them, too, in her visions. The creatures from her nightmares, their hollow eyes glowing with malice.

"We don't have much time," Kieran said, his voice firm. "You need to come with me, Lyra. The stone in the forest will help you understand your power. But we must move quickly."Lyra looked from Kieran to Arlen, her mind racing. She had no choice. The safety of her village—and the realm—was at stake.

Without another word, she grabbed her cloak and followed Kieran out into the darkening streets of Velmora. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the faint, eerie sounds of something unnatural—something watching.

As they reached the edge of the forest, the mist seemed to grow thicker, the trees looming like silent sentinels. Kieran led her to a secluded glade, where a massive stone altar stood, ancient runes glowing faintly in the moonlight.

"This is the Heartstone," Kieran explained. "It is here that the Keeper's power is bound. Touch it, and you will learn what lies ahead."

Lyra hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. But as her hand brushed the surface of the stone, a surge of energy coursed through her, filling her veins with warmth and light. Visions flashed before her eyes—scenes of a long-forgotten war, of a world once bathed in light now being swallowed by shadows.

And then, she saw it: a figure cloaked in darkness, with eyes burning like coals—the true enemy.With a gasp, Lyra pulled her hand away, her breath ragged. "Who... was that?"Kieran's expression hardened. "That was Malgorath, the one who once ruled the darkness. And now, he is waking again."

Just then, a distant howl pierced the night, followed by the unmistakable rustle of creatures moving in the trees.

"They're here," Kieran said, drawing his sword. "Lyra, it's time to fight."

As the Duskwraiths emerged from the mist, their hollow eyes glowing brighter than ever, Lyra felt the weight of her destiny settle upon her shoulders. The Keeper was no longer a myth—it was her reality. And the war for Eryndale had just begun.To be continued...