Who are you? — the thought emerged from Alex's mind on its own, as if it didn't need words.
Instead of an answer, images appeared in his mind. Not words, but memories—fragmented, chaotic, blurred by time. First, a hazy vision of a city. Magnificent, vibrant, situated on the border between forest and desert, cut through by a blue ribbon of river that shimmered in the sunlight like liquid silver. Though powerful and grand, the city wasn't a place of miracles—magic was rare, and those who possessed it studied for years in the only magical academy. Mages were few, respected, and reclusive—their presence inspired awe, but also unease.
The image shifted. It showed people in everyday life—elves with proud faces, dwarves trading weapons and ore, human children running through the streets. Everything was blurred, indistinct, like a dream that refuses to be fully remembered.
I... I don't remember exactly, came the voice of the Guardian, piercing through Alex's mind. Too many years have passed. So many thousands of dreams... so much silence. I only remember fragments.
The visions sped up.
Darkness. Chaos. Screams.
Demons.
He didn't know when they came. No one did. Not even the Guardian. But he remembered fragments. Horrifying flashes that burned into his memory like scorched runes.
A man's body twisted in unnatural convulsions. Blood dripped from his mouth. His skin cracked open as if something inside was trying to break free. His spine arched, bones snapped, and his eyes turned black—deep as the abyss. When the transformation was complete, the creature lunged at its former companions, roaring in an inhuman voice.
Some of us tried to fight, said the voice. But we fell quickly… and became what we fought. Once heroes. Now monsters. Their souls were burned away, their bodies consumed by darkness. Some… mutated, becoming things I can no longer name. Too close to humans to call beasts… too monstrous to call men.
A vision of elves battling shadowy beings appeared. Some creatures had black wings, others had shapes too twisted to describe—bodies bent inward as if something inside wanted to tear them apart. Then came the escape.
I was the one who buried us here, the voice said, quiet and full of pain. I gathered them—elves, a few humans, several dwarves—and led them into the underground city. I hid them there, sacrificing my body and magic, believing the sealing magic would protect them. But then… their presence vanished. Silence filled the city. They stopped speaking. They stopped moving. They... time was merciless to them. There was no food, and the supplies ran out faster than I had hoped. One by one, they died, leaving me alone. I heard their final words. I saw their light fade. They couldn't leave—the place was sealed. Some tried anyway, trying to break the spell, begging to be released—but the seal held strong. Without food, without hope, they perished one after another, leaving behind only silence and lifeless gazes.
The Guardian had heard their whispered curses, seen their pain-filled eyes—but he could do nothing. The seal was unbreakable.
Some cursed me for trapping them here. They looked at me with hatred, blaming me for sentencing them to die. But I couldn't take the risk... If I opened the seal, the darkness would have consumed them too. And I could only watch. Though power still flickered within me like embers, I could not move—I had fused with the tree, to protect them. I was their guardian… and their tomb. For centuries, I was alone, and saw no sign of life. I don't know if any of my kin survived. No one tried to reach me. When I sealed the entrance, I cut myself off from the world… and from hope.
The vision showed the last survivors disappearing into the dark tunnel. The Guardian closing the gate. A rune lighting up. Then—silence.
At first, I could still feel their presence. Magic. Life. But in time, only emptiness remained… and the runes. For centuries, no one touched them. Until you… touched one of the runes I once created. That allowed me to feel your power and reach you in your dream.
You called me? Alex thought.
No. You awakened me. Your blood… your presence. They reminded me that not all is lost.
A final vision appeared. The Guardian—once an elf with bright eyes and a proud face—kneeling over a fallen companion. Then solitude. Time stretching like eternity.
I don't know if anyone of my race still lives. But my time is coming to an end. Opening the seal consumed most of my power. The magic that binds me to this place is strong… but exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can endure in this state. I've given you all I could. Now let me pass into oblivion.
His voice was calm, yet still carried the weight of countless years—as if every word brought him one step closer to his end.
But before that happens, I will share with you what remains of what I once was.
Cut the tree, the Guardian said, his voice a whisper from the past. Let its sap flow—and any who drink it shall gain the power to wield the magic of nature.
To you, however, I wish to pass on the power of my ancestors. Know this: the first use of this magic will come with pain. You must learn to control it before it becomes your strength, not your doom. My magic will awaken the secrets of the beast and bring it forth within you. You will have to face your wild nature, buried deep inside. This power will not spare you, but it will be effective against demons. It can wound them. It can destroy them. It is a power without mercy—but it can save your life, if used wisely. Are you ready to receive this power and bear its burden?