The storm had passed, but the rain lingered, a cold drizzle that soaked the forest floor and whispered through the leaves like a lament. Elara sat by the flickering fire she had conjured beneath a thick canopy, its warmth battling the chill that clung to the air.
Across from her, the girl huddled in a damp cloak, silver embers casting soft shadows across her pale, dirt-smudged face. Her hands trembled as she clutched a warm mug of herbal tea Elara had brewed from forest herbs.
“What’s your name?” Elara asked gently, breaking the silence.
The girl hesitated, then lifted her gaze. “Seren,” she said, her voice hoarse from screaming and crying. “My name is Seren.”
Elara gave a small nod. “Tell me what happened, Seren. All of it.”
Seren’s lips quivered. She stared into the fire as if trying to draw courage from the flames. “I was just a normal girl. I lived with my family in a small village near the eastern hills. My father was a woodcutter… my mother tended a herb garden. I had a little sister. Her name was Mira. She was only ten.”
Her voice cracked at the name.
“I didn’t know I was different. Not until one day, when I got angry at the village boys for throwing rocks at Mira. I screamed, and the wind listened. It picked up and knocked them down. People saw. They called me a witch.”
Elara said nothing, only listened, her crimson eyes fixed on the girl, patient and quiet.
“My parents... they didn’t abandon me. They hid me. Told the village I’d run away, gone mad. They kept me in the cellar, fed me in secret. And Mira… Mira pretended to be me. She even dressed like me sometimes, told people she'd learned her lesson and was safe.”
Seren choked on the memory, covering her face with her hands. Elara moved to sit beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Then the hunters came,” Seren continued after a long pause. “Three of them. They questioned the whole village, threatened people. When they found nothing, they… they set our house on fire. I watched from the woods. My family was still inside.”
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks now. “Mira ran, led them away. I followed her trail, hoping… hoping she got away. But then I met a mage. I thought he might help.”
Her voice darkened. “He told the hunters I wasn’t a witch. Said I didn’t have a ‘sufficient magical core,’ whatever that means. They left. But I knew they’d come back. And when they did… I ran.”
Elara’s jaw tightened. Her fingers twitched slightly, the forest spirits around them responding with quiet rustles in the trees. “You’ve been hunted, deceived, and left alone. You have every right to be afraid.”
Seren looked up at her, eyes wide and desperate. “Please… I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do. You saved me, but I don’t want to run anymore. I’m tired of hiding. Please… help me.”
Elara stared at her for a long moment. She saw in Seren the same fear, the same confusion, the same spark she once carried when she awoke in a world that wanted her dead. But more than that, she saw potential—a flicker of power unshaped, raw and vulnerable.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Elara said at last, her voice quiet but firm. “I will protect you. Teach you. Just as someone once did for me.”
Seren’s eyes widened. Hope bloomed faintly in her expression, fragile but real.
Elara turned to the dark woods, her voice low. “And if the hunters come again… they’ll learn what happens when they chase fire into a storm.”
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