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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

Benjamin's Proposition

The vast chamber, usually echoing with murmurs and jostling, held its breath as the Triarchs, three figures of immense power and presence, ascended the dais at the far end.

Their movements, cloaked in a heavy silence, carried the weight of authority.

Archon Celebrian, arguably the most stoic of the three, settled onto his central throne. His gaze, a sharp blue that seemed to pierce the very air, swept across the assembled crowd.

Human and elf sat segregated, divided by a low, engraved wall that ran down the center of the hall. As Celebrian's eyes traced the line, a flicker of something akin to disapproval flickered across his face.

A heavy sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips. Then, he spoke. His voice, though measured and controlled, resonated like a low rumble through the chamber. Every syllable held the weight of years of leadership and an undercurrent of simmering anger.