The Tale of Aven and the Wraith of Stars

In the land where the ancient whispers sigh,

Lies the hidden realm where secrets lie.

Under moonlit trees, where shadows play,

Young Aven walked the Wildwood Way.

His heart was bold, his spirit free,

A hunter of stars and mystery.

With firelight eyes and a cloak of green,

Aven was a lad both fierce and keen.

For tales were told by the flickering flame,

Of a Wraith of Stars with a whispered name,

Who held the power of sky and sea—

Magic to bend all fate’s decree.

The Oracle’s Warning

One evening bright with an eerie glow,

To Aven came an owl, wings low.

Its voice was ancient, fierce, and wise,

With secrets hidden in its amber eyes.

"Beware the Wraith of Stars," it cried,

"For the price of power is dark and wide.

Seek not the path that mortals fear,

Yet seek you must, or doom draws near."

And so with a map of fates foretold,

And the spark of the young, the daring, the bold,

Aven set forth on a journey vast,

To find the power none could grasp.

The Crossroads of Kin

Through mountains high and valleys low,

He wandered where no others go,

And met strange kin by ancient trees—

Sprites and shades and mystic bees.

An old man waited by a forked trail,

His voice was frail, his face was pale.

“Choose well, young lad, for each path binds,

And shadows cling where light unwinds.”

The leftward road led to dreams unknown,

Of riches and crowns and glittering stone.

The rightward way was darker still,

Yet called to Aven, against his will.

So he chose the right, with a steely grin,

And the forest swallowed his fears within.

For courage guided, though shadows lay,

On the winding, binding Wildwood Way.

The Realm of Shadows

At the heart of night, beneath starlit skies,

He beheld a figure with silver eyes.

The Wraith of Stars, in robes of night,

Held power ancient, dark, and bright.

It spoke in rhymes both sharp and cold,

Of a prophecy forged in tales of old.

"Three riddles to answer, a spell to break,

And only the true of heart may stake

Their claim upon this ancient lore,

Where mortal men tread nevermore."

Aven's heart raced, his courage high,

But his voice was calm, his gaze was wry.

“Ask your riddles, and mark me true,

For none shall turn from what I pursue.”

The Riddles of the Wraith

The Wraith’s voice rose, a song of dread,

Its hollow eyes on Aven’s head:

“In halls of kings where secrets hide,

What blooms in shadow none abide?”

Aven paused, his thoughts so keen,

And answered firm, “A flower unseen.”

The Wraith hissed low, then asked anew:

“What sings at dawn yet breaks in two?”

With steady voice and a daring grin,

Aven answered, “The morning wind.”

One last riddle, its voice a gale,

Cold and fierce as a midnight wail:

“What binds the light yet leaves no trace,

When dusk descends upon this place?”

With words like steel, both fierce and fine,

He answered, “A shadow’s line.”

The Power of Stars

The Wraith fell silent, then began to fade,

Its silvery form to mist unmade.

And there, where it vanished, a light appeared—

A starbound flame, bright and clear.

Aven reached forth, his heart alight,

As magic flared through the starlit night.

With power thrumming in his veins,

He glimpsed all fates, all joys, all pains.

He saw his home, his kin, his friends,

And the fragile line where the mortal ends.

With humbled heart and open eyes,

He vowed to guard the starbound skies.

Return to the Wildwood

Through morning’s mist, through dawn’s first glow,

Back to his village Aven did go,

With tales of stars and a strength unknown,

Bearing the light he’d earned and grown.

And though the power called his name,

To wield its strength for glory and fame,

He let it rest in his humble heart,

For Aven knew it was just the start.

He’d tread again the paths that bind,

For truth and courage entwined his mind.

And legend tells, if you walk the Way,

You may see his star on a misted day.

The End