CHAPTER 42

In that moment of profound remorse, Eolande understood the true cost of her wrath. She could not undo what she had done, and her spirit was forever tainted by the blood on her hands. In her sorrow and guilt, she made a solemn vow to the spirits of the fallen and the forest itself.

With one final, mournful song, Eolande ceased to exist.

Her essence scattered like windblown leaves, returning to the very nature she had once vowed to protect.

The forest remained, scarred but resilient, a testament to the consequences of unchecked anger and the price of vengeance.

Eolande's name faded into the mists of time, her story whispered only by the wind through the ancient trees.

Her tale served as a somber reminder of the power and responsibility that came with being the guardian of nature, and the tragic consequences that could arise when that power was wielded without wisdom or compassion.

8

"—the Forgotten art".

In a world of vibrant landscapes and breathtaking vistas, there lived a traveler named Elowen.

His heart beat with a relentless wanderlust, driving him to explore the farthest corners of the Earth.

Yet, unlike most travelers who sought to capture memories through photographs or writings, Elowen had a unique passion—he painted the world as he saw it.

Elowen's artistry knew no bounds.

He carried his beloved easel, canvases, and paints wherever he roamed. From the towering peaks of snow-capped mountains to the tranquil shores of secluded lakes, he painted the world with the vividness of his soul.

His works were masterpieces, each stroke of his brush imbued with the essence of the places he visited.

But Elowen's artistry held a quiet melancholy. He cared not for fortune or fame.

Instead, he sought something far more elusive—a kindred spirit who could understand the world through his eyes, who could see the beauty he painted and feel the emotions he poured into each piece.

Years turned into decades, and Elowen's artistry blossomed, filling countless canvases with the awe-inspiring landscapes he had witnessed.

He would display his works in small, hidden galleries along his travels, hoping that one day, someone would be touched by the colors and the stories they told.

However, Elowen's art remained undiscovered by the world.

While his paintings were revered by a select few who chanced upon them, they never garnered the widespread recognition he yearned for.

His works remained hidden treasures, adrift in the vast sea of undiscovered talents.

As the years wore on, Elowen's loneliness grew.

He had roamed the world, witnessing its wonders, but he longed for a companion who could share in his journey. He yearned for someone who would see the world as he did and appreciate the beauty he unveiled on his canvases.

Alas, fate remained cruel. Elowen's travels took him to remote corners of the world, places where few ventured.

His works became his sole companions, echoing with the memories of his solitary adventures. Each brushstroke he applied was like a cry into the void, a plea for someone to understand his vision.

In his twilight years, Elowen's health began to falter. His body, once robust and filled with the vigor of exploration, grew frail. He knew that his days were numbered, and his dream of sharing his art with the world was slipping away.

One cold, winter night, with his hands trembling from age, Elowen completed his final masterpiece—a breathtaking sunset over the tranquil waters of a hidden lake. The colors danced on the canvas, capturing the essence of his lifetime of travels.

With tears in his eyes, he placed the painting on an easel in a secluded corner of his small, dimly lit home. He knew that he would not live to see the world's reaction to his magnum opus. As his vision dimmed, he whispered his final wish into the quiet darkness.

"May someone, someday, find my art and know the world as I did."

And with those words, Elowen, the lonely traveler who had painted the world's beauty, closed his eyes for the last time.

Years turned into centuries, and the world continued to spin, oblivious to the treasure hidden in the corners of Elowen's home.

His paintings remained untouched, waiting for that elusive someone who could unlock the stories they held.

Elowen's name faded into obscurity, but his art lived on, a testament to the passion of a traveler who had longed for one thing—a kindred spirit to share his journey through the colors of life.

9

"—Emotiog."

In a realm that existed at the fringes of the human world, there was a peculiar and enigmatic creature known simply as "Emotiog."

Emotiog was a monster, an entity that possessed a form but lacked a soul, an empty vessel that roamed the human world in search of something it could never truly possess—emotions.

Emotiog was not like the creatures of myth and legend, nor was it a fearsome beast. It was a curious, almost pitiable entity, driven by an insatiable desire to understand what it meant to feel.

It started its journey by observing the humans from the shadows. It watched as they laughed, cried, expressed anger, and shared love.

The emotions they displayed were like distant stars in the night sky, beautiful but infinitely out of reach.

Emotiog yearned to experience these emotions, to understand the depths of joy, the warmth of love, the sting of sorrow, and the fire of anger. It believed that by consuming the humans, it could absorb their emotions and finally fill the emptiness within itself.

With that intent in mind, Emotiog ventured forth, silently stalking its prey. It chose its victims carefully, selecting those who exhibited the most intense emotions.

It would strike swiftly and silently, leaving no trace of its presence except for the sudden emptiness in the hearts of those it devoured.

But as Emotiog consumed human after human, it found itself disappointed.

No matter how many it ate, it felt nothing. It remained an empty shell, devoid of the emotions it so desperately craved.