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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
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106 Chs

The Banquet

Silax arrived at the Archivum and stepped out the carriage. He told the coachman that they'll be waiting for someone who would give him the address to their next destination.

He still had about thirty minutes before it would be seven o'clock. He had decided to get here thirty minutes earlier than the predetermined time, even though he would have to pay the coachman for the time he spent waiting.

A few minutes past seven, a horse drawn carriage arrived at the front of the Archivum.

As the carriage door swung open, Yvonne stepped out with the grace of a dancer on a moonlit stage. Her gown clung to her curves like a second skin, a shimmering emerald that matched the wings she had unveiled to Silax the night before.

The fabric was a marvel of silk, it was so light it seemed to breathe, flowing down her form in a cascade of gentle folds. It clung effortlessly at her waist, then fanned out into a skirt that trailed behind her like a rippling emerald sea.