After weeks of routine checkups and rehab, Raven was finally allowed to see the world beyond the white hospital walls. The contrast of white and green outside the hospital was astounding. The world outside sparked a fire in her chest. It was breathtaking but she felt no sense of belonging to it.
Maybe it was because she was hurt!
Her memory was broken with the only thing left being a shard of clean white glass with her name alone engraved unto its glittering surface.
Erik had said it was only temporary and soon enough, she would remember who she was and where she came from.
He had also told her where she was found hoping it would spark a memory; Because she had been found by the border scouts lying directly upon the glowing chasm that separated Alvea from the rest of Brusselie above. She raised her head to the glimmering sky of gold and light dazzling purple hues. Up there was where she was found. Curiosity boiled in her blood but she had to suppress it. First understand where this was!
This realm, known to its inhabitants as Alvea, existed entirely within the continental borders of Brusselie, yet it was completely hidden from the rest of the continent above by an ancient, impenetrable golden boundary. down here, the air tasted sweeter, the trees grew to the size of mountains, and the sky was a perpetual canvas of shimmering gold and dazzling purple light. Erik took Raven to his family's villa at the heart of Alvea; the Fyor Mansion. They provided her with soft robes of woven silk and a quiet pavilion near the main house, but the hospitality came with a heavy layer of scrutiny. The pavilion was surrounded by an array of green and golden armored soldiers from the palace, changing shifts all day.
Deep within the hollowed center of the Great White gold Palace, the council meetings between the elven elders revolved entirely around her.
"She was found on the chasm," one elder argued, his long golden brow furrowed as he leaned over a map of the boundary. "The energy lingering on her garments belongs to the factions of the surface. She could be a scout, or worse, a weapon sent to breach our isolation."
"She carries no malice in her aura" Erik, who also sat on the council as a royal physician and the Queen's twin brother, countered calmly. "Her mind is completely blank like a newborn pixie vine. To figure out her true origin, we can only wait for her to naturally regain her memories. Forcing her mind open could destroy her sanity permanently."
The debate lasted for days. Ultimately, the high council decided that her true threat level could only be measured by the psychic elf of the Tree of Life.
This specific elf did not live a normal life; she lived, fed, and existed in absolute, symbiotic unity with the ancient Tree of Life that anchored Alvea's magic. She was the tree, and the tree was her. Her name was Algar, and her visions had guided the elven race through millennia of isolation.
The night of the ritual arrived, characterized by an oppressive, heavy stillness that settled over the sacred grove.
The elven elders, along with the high priests, formed a wide circle around the central crystal pond of the Water of Life. At the center of this glowing, perfectly clear pond, Raven was laid gently upon a bed of thick, vibrant green moss that floated on the water's surface. Her long hair fanned out around her, her breathing soft and even as the ambient magic of the grove washed over her skin.
At the base of the massive, glowing roots of the Tree of Life, Algar stood motionless. Her arms tightly held unto a green emerald staff. She was tall and thin. Dressed in hand woven silk. She looked just like a fairy, covered in silky white, it made no contrast with her skin only highlighting the unnatural paleness. Her hair was green like the leaves of the towering tree she stood under.
Slowly, the psychic elf raised her sparkling green eyes toward the sky. The eyes were beautiful, yet you could tell instantly that she saw no physical light; her pupils were entirely glassy, looking inward at the complex threads of fate rather than the physical world, Her lashes were green and long casting shadows on her smooth cheeks. Above them, the sky began to shimmer with heavy brushes of pulsing gold, responding to the ritual's invocation.
Algar stepped forward, her bare feet pressing into the water but there was no ripple. she began to look deep into Raven's fate and her potential connection with the future of the elves. Her ancient chants filled the ears of the other elves. The priests stood tall with ancient glowing books and chalices filled with the crystal looking water of life.
Algars green eyes glowed with faint golden light as they remained glued to Raven's face.
Raven's eyes were shut tightly, her lashes fluttered lightly like butterfly wings. Raven looked peaceful but also with an ingrained vigilance. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as time passed.
Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere of the sacred grove shattered with silent violence.
The emerald leaves of the Tree of Life began to sway and rustle violently, despite the complete lack of wind. A piercing, high-pitched phoenix cry cut through the air, so loud and sharp that it broke the silence and caused several elders to cover their ears in pain, blood oozing out of their damaged ears. The phantom of a burning red phoenix materialized in the air above. The glowing chasm trembled violently as it was under visible suppression. Buy that wasn't all... In the next instant, the shimmering golden sky of Alvea darkened into a bruised, stormy purple. Deep, catastrophic peals of thunder sounding less like natural weather and more like the terrifying, roaring fury of an ancient dragon echoed from the upper boundary, breaking the sound barrier of the elven world with a deafening BOOM. The chasm trembled violently again as visible cracks covered its surface. It was barely holding on.
The Water of Life beneath Raven began to ripple violently as the very foundations of the hidden world began to shake.