THE ELF THE MAGICAL OWL AND THE BLACK DRAGON CHAPTER 1
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please be aware that the characters, events, and locations in this story are entirely products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. This work of fiction is intended for entertainment purposes only.
WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, EXPLICIT LANGUAGE AND DEATH
SUMMARY
An elf, An Owl, a powerful mage, and the formidable Black Dragon embark on a perilous journey to stop a malevolent enemy from bringing their homeland to ruin.
Bound by fate and desperation, the trio ventures through treacherous landscapes—ancient forests whispering with forgotten magic, towering mountains where the wind howls with warnings, and cursed ruins where shadows move of their own will. Each step they take is haunted by the knowledge that failure is not an option.
The elf, swift and deadly with the bow and arrows, carries the weight of her people’s survival on her shoulders. The mage, wielding forces beyond mortal comprehension, battles not only external foes but the darkness creeping into their own soul. And the Black Dragon, an awe-inspiring force of nature, soars above with eyes that have witnessed both the rise and fall of empires.
Their enemy is no ordinary foe—it is a being of pure malice, an ancient force long thought to be sealed away, now clawing its way back into the world with an insatiable hunger for destruction. Cities crumble in its wake, rivers run black with corruption, and the very sky darkens as its power grows.
As they press forward, their bond is tested by betrayal, sacrifice, and the ever-looming shadow of doom. But even in the face of despair, they refuse to surrender. With courage burning in their hearts and destiny guiding their path, they must make a final stand before their homeland is swallowed by darkness forever.
THE ELF
The first light of dawn painted the sky in breathtaking shades of gold, orange, purple, and blue, casting a soft glow over Orennia Grove. The forest was still, cloaked in the hush of early morning, with only the occasional rustling of leaves as animals began to stir from their slumber.
Elysia, an Elf crouched low, her muscles taut as she steadied her breath. Just a few feet ahead, a magnificent buck grazed in the clearing, completely unaware of the predator lurking in the shadows. It was the perfect kill—enough meat to feed her family for a week. She tightened her grip on the bowstring, her fingers steady despite the growing ache in her arms. The wind picked up, rustling golden leaves that fluttered between her and the buck. Thankfully, she was downwind—the deer wouldn’t catch her scent.
For a brief moment, the animal lifted its head, ears twitching as it scanned the area for danger. Elysia held her breath, willing herself to be invisible. Satisfied that it was safe, the buck returned to grazing. Sweat trickled down her dark skin as she narrowed her silver eyes, and listened closely with her pointed ears, then released the arrow.
The whisper of the bowstring was followed by a dull thud as the arrow struck true. The buck collapsed instantly. A small smirk played on Elysia’s lips as she rose to her full height—towering at six feet four inches. Slinging the bow over her left shoulder, she ran a hand through her low-cut curls before stepping toward her kill.
Then, the wind shifted.
A pungent, acrid scent burned her nostrils, making her cough. Smoke. Thick, black smoke curled into the sky from the direction of her village. Panic surged through her veins, drowning out all thought.
Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the source, leaping over fallen trees and skirting jagged rocks. Her heart pounded wildly as dread settled deep in her gut.
She skidded to a halt behind a massive tree, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Peering around the trunk, she spotted them—five towering creatures stalking the forest. Seven feet tall, with light green skin stretched taut over bulging muscles and dark veins snaking across their bodies. Their glowing red, cat-like eyes flickered with hunger. Long, sharp fangs jutted from their mouths, and each of their clawed hands gripped a weapon—mostly axes.
Elysia’s pulse thundered in her ears. She had never seen creatures like these before, but every instinct screamed that they were dangerous.
She needed to get to her family.
The suffocating stench of smoke and death clawed at her senses, but she forced herself to stay hidden. As one of the creatures moved closer, sniffing the air, she quickly scaled the tree, her nimble hands and feet making it look effortless. From her vantage point, she finally had a clear view of her village—and what she saw made her blood run cold.
The village was burning.
Bodies littered the ground—her kin, her people, all lying motionless among the flames.
Grief clenched her chest like a vice. She wrapped her arms around herself, willing her tears not to fall. There was no time to mourn, not yet. Below, the creature sniffed again, lingering beneath her tree. She tightened her jaw. If she wanted to reach her village, she had to act.
Slowly, she pulled her bow from her shoulder, nocked an arrow, and took aim. Her hands were steady despite the turmoil inside her.
The arrow flew true, piercing the creature’s skull. It let out a shriek as its body convulsed, black mist pouring from the wound before it disintegrated into nothingness.
Elysia’s breath hitched. What in the gods’ names…?
There was no time to ponder. She climbed down swiftly, making sure the body—what was left of it—was truly dead before reclaiming her arrow, there was nothing left behind but clothes. Another creature lurked to her left. She drew and released without hesitation. Another kill. Another swirl of eerie black mist.
Something about this was deeply unnatural.
She moved quickly now, her heart hammering. The closer she got to the village, the more creatures she took down, each one vanishing into mist upon death.
Then, finally, she reached the village.
Flames roared hungrily, devouring homes. The stench of burning wood and flesh made her stomach churn. Her silver eyes swept across the devastation, her heart breaking with every lifeless body she passed. Elders. Warriors. Children. All gone.
She ran straight for her home at the edge of the village, hope battling against the crushing weight of despair.
Her house was on fire.
Her younger brother lay outside, his lifeless hand still gripping his sword. A few yards away, her father had fallen, his weapon drenched in blood.
Her mother—where was her mother?
A strangled cry tore from Elysia’s throat as she collapsed to her knees, sobs wracking her body. Why? Why had this happened? Who could have done this?
Then she heard it.
A weak, almost imperceptible sound—a cry.
Elysia’s breath caught. She forced herself to listen. There. Faint, but unmistakable.
From inside the burning house.
She shot to her feet, bolting toward the inferno. Heat licked at her skin as she barreled through the entrance, shielding her face with her arm.
“Mother!” she called, frantically searching through the smoke.
Then she saw her.
Face down in the kitchen, barely breathing.
Elysia wasted no time. Ignoring the flames licking at her clothes, she scooped her mother into her arms, carrying her outside and laying her gently on the ground.
“Mother, wake up! Please!” she begged.
Her mother coughed weakly, blood trickling from her lips. Burns marred her hands and half of her face. Elysia’s throat tightened.
“Who did this?” she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
Her mother’s eyes fluttered open, filled with pain but also something else—urgency.
“The Grimor… is coming,” she rasped.
Elysia froze.
“You must leave this country… child…”
“No! Don’t speak, Mother, please! You’ll be okay—I’ll get help!”
Her mother shook her head weakly, gripping Elysia’s arm with the last of her strength.
“Protect… your…”
A violent cough wracked her fragile body. Blood splattered against her lips.
Then, her grip loosened.
Her hand fell away.
Her eyes remained open, but the light in them was gone.
“Mother?” Elysia whispered.
Silence.
Pain—raw, unbearable pain—ripped through her chest as she let out a soul-wrenching scream, cradling her mother’s lifeless form.
She didn’t know how long she stayed there, but eventually, she forced herself to move.
Through sheer will, she buried her family with the care and respect they deserved. Her father, her brother, her mother—side by side beneath the ancient trees they had once called home.
Then, she turned to her fallen people, the fires finally out.
It took days, exhausting every ounce of her strength, but she buried them all. One by one, she laid them to rest.
By the end, her body was broken. Her spirit shattered.
She stumbled under the ancient trees, where she collapsed on her mother's grave, exhausted, trying to get some sleep.
Sleep would not come.
How could it, when everything she had ever known had been reduced to ashes?
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