"To fight evil; you must first understand the dark."
From the blood of dragons, a child shall rise,
Born of fire and fear, her fate sealed with lies.
For she is the chosen, the one who will bring
A reign of darkness, a world with its dark king.
...
Weeks it had been since young Anaynah left Rivendell, her journey taking her through winding paths and across sprawling plains. She had passed through several small villages along the way, each one offering a brief respite from her solitary travels. In one village, she had traded some of her belongings for a sturdy horse, a loyal companion that had carried her through the rugged terrain with unwavering dedication, she did not want to take her Elven horse away from its home, for she knew not where she ventured.
As she rode further away from Rivendell, the weight of her past mistakes pressed heavily on her mind. The memory of the night of the Emergence, the accident with her brother Elladan, the prophecy that spoke of her doom, all was a constant shadow, a reminder of the danger her abilities posed to those she cared about. With each passing day, the pull of the Grey Mountains grew stronger, drawing her towards the solitude she sought.
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The rugged beauty of the landscape captivated Anaynah as she ventured deeper into the heart of the mountains. Towering peaks loomed overhead, their snow-capped summits glistening in the sunlight. The air grew cooler and crisper, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. Wildlife thrived in the remote wilderness, and Anaynah often found herself accompanied by the distant calls of eagles and the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
As she ventured deeper into the mountains, the air grew colder, and the landscape more rugged. Snowflakes danced in the wind, swirling around her as she rode through narrow mountain passes and dense pine forests. The solitude she sought was both comforting and daunting; the vast expanse of the mountains was a stark reminder of her isolation.
________
The nights were bitterly cold, but Anaynah found shelter in secluded caves or beneath the sheltering branches of ancient trees. The cold was unforgiving so, she'd light a fire, its flames casting a warm glow against the surrounding darkness, and there, she'd sit, lost in thought. That was when she noticed, she felt no cold seeping into her bones. Puzzled, she glanced down at the dwindling flames flickering in front of her. The fire was dying, the embers barely glowing.
A sudden, inexplicable urge surged within her—a deep-rooted instinct she couldn't ignore. Her gaze fixed on the dying embers, and with a soft exhale, a tiny spark ignited at her fingertips.
She inhaled a gasp.
Almost mesmerised, she focused on the spark, willing it to grow. Slowly but steadily, the spark danced into a small flame, breathing life back into the dying fire.
A rush of warmth spread around her, not just from the rekindled flames but also from the realization of what she had just done. The fire was not from the wood but from within her—a manifestation of her dormant magic. A mixture of awe and fear swirled within her as she stared at her hands, now alight with an otherworldly glow.
