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The Crimson Elf

Silax a young elf struck by a mysterious illness that takes away his ability to get stronger, yearns for a cure and a way to get stronger. Legend whispers of the World Tree, a mythical entity rumored to hold the key to ultimate power and unmatched healing. Reaching it promises not only a cure but also a chance to reclaim what was taken from him. Driven by ambition and a thirst for strength, Silax leaves home. He spends years searching until one day his efforts bear fruit. What he finds is not the blessing he anticipated, but a curse. It requires a sacrifice, a darkness that must be embraced to wield its might. A power fueled by darkness and life force absorbed from others. This dark power grants him immense strength but test his morals. Torn between ambition and morality, he must make a choice. Embrace his monstrous nature and achieve his goals at the cost of everything or give up on this power to protect the world from its danger. This is a story of the corrupting nature of power, the sacrifice and the cost of achieving ones goals, and the blurred lines between ambition and self-preservation. It's a tale that explores the lengths one might go to in the face of mortality.

kynikoiTDM · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
106 Chs

The Assembly Hall

A sliver of sunlight, cold and sharp, speared through the intricately woven curtains of Silax's room. He stirred as he cracked open his eyes, the remnants of a dream clinging to his thoughts.

He threw back the covers and got out of bed, his movements precise and efficient. He glanced at the clock on his wall, it was just past sunrise, yet the city seemed to hum with a tense energy.

The normally cheerful chirping of the songbirds was subdued, replaced by a watchful silence.

Today was the day. The Triarchs who rarely addressed the city, were convening an assembly. It wasn't a festive gathering.

He had meticulously planned his morning. A quick breakfast of Moonbeam bread and Glowpetal tea would fuel him.

His cloak, the emerald green a stark contrast to his red attire, lay neatly folded at the foot of the bed. It held not just warmth, but hidden pockets filled with vials of blood rich in Radix and a slim, sharp dagger for emergencies.