The Bond of Flame and Flesh

In the twilight woods of Eldermere, where moonlight shimmered through whispering leaves and ancient magic lingered in every breath of wind, lived a warrior named Aelira. She was not fully elf nor wholly orc, but born of both bloods—a union that made her feared by many and trusted by few. Her pointed ears bore the lineage of the forest, while her strength and scars whispered of battles survived.

By her side fluttered a creature of legend: a fae-drake named Thistle, as bright and fierce as the violet storms that brewed over the Witchpeaks. Their bond was not forged in taming but in trust. Years ago, Aelira had saved the hatchling from a burning trap set by poachers. Since then, Thistle had never left her side.

One dusk, Aelira stood at the edge of the Emberfall Clearing, a place known to only a handful of warriors. Her eyes glowed with gold fire, not from enchantment, but from purpose. Thistle hissed a quiet warning and arced around her shoulder—danger loomed near.

The Bone Clan had returned.

They sought the Heartstone amulet that Aelira wore around her neck—a relic of her mother’s people, said to grant passage between realms. But Aelira would not let it fall into hands that would twist its power.

As the enemy approached, Thistle’s wings flared violet fire, and Aelira gripped the blade hidden at her thigh. With a nod, warrior and drake turned to face the shadows.