In a world known as Ludra, torn by conflict and shrouded in centuries of tension, the fragile harmony between humans and elves had long since crumbled. War had become a constant rhythm, each side locked in an unending struggle for dominance. The humans, fueled by ambition and fear, pushed deeper into territories the elves had guarded for generations. In return, the elves, though fewer in number, fought with magic and precision born from centuries of connection to the land.
As cities burned and forests wept beneath the scars of battle, the elven elders gathered in desperation. Their numbers were dwindling, their defenses faltering. Amidst the chaos, ancient scrolls were unsealed, rituals long forbidden for fear of what they might unleash. Yet desperation knows no restraint. From deep within the sanctum of the forest, the elves began the Rite of Invocation.
The ceremony, old as the stars, called not for soldiers or sages, but for a hero, one born from mana, summoned through time and space. As the ritual reached its peak, the forest itself pulsed with luminous energy. Leaves glowed silver, roots trembled beneath the earth, and the sky above cracked open in a blinding surge of light.
And then, she appeared.
Lucretia.
An elf unlike any seen in Ludra. Her silver hair shimmered with otherworldly luster, and her golden eyes, though wide with confusion, held a timeless depth. She wore a light, celestial armor unfamiliar to those around her, and her presence alone stilled the air. The forest quieted. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Though she was summoned into war, Lucretia held a legendary elven bow, its limbs adorned with ancient runes that shimmered with a soft glow. Despite this, she did not exude the aura of a seasoned warrior. She did not speak immediately. Instead, she listened.
"O great hero, we beg of you, hear our plea. Our lands are under siege, our people hunted. The humans march upon our sacred forests, leaving only ruin in their wake. They slaughter our kin without mercy. Please, noble one, lend us your strength. Save us from this devastation."
The elders told her of their plight, of the years lost to bloodshed, and of the dying hope of their people. Something within her stirred. Though she remembered nothing beyond her name and race, a deep instinct compelled her. She could not abandon them.
And so, Lucretia fought.
With grace and uncanny precision, she turned the tide of many battles. Her bow, conjured from mana itself, sang with each release. Arrows never missed. Her movements were like whispers in the wind, unpredictable and swift. Where she walked, morale bloomed. Children who had never known peace began to hope. Elders who had lost faith found comfort in her presence. The humans, once emboldened, now hesitated in fear.
But all light casts shadows.
"How is it possible that a single elf has driven us to the brink? This defies all reason. Perhaps... it's time we abandon restraint and invoke the forbidden magic. Taboo or not, we cannot let this continue."
The humans, unable to match her prowess, turned to a forbidden magic, a spell buried deep within the ruins of an ancient civilization. A circle of their most powerful mages formed under a blood moon. They chanted in tongues long forgotten. The spell, designed to unravel divine beings, twisted the very fabric of reality.
Unaware of her misstep, Lucretia stepped into the heart of the forbidden spell's grasp. In an instant, glowing tendrils of magic erupted around her, encasing her in a lattice of light and runes. Her body lifted from the ground as if seized by unseen hands. There was no time to cry out, no chance to resist. She vanished, not with the stillness of death, but in a violent ripple of arcane transference.
The spell, unstable and immense, faltered at its climax. Something, a will greater than the magic itself, intervened. Its purpose was never fulfilled. Instead of annihilation, Lucretia was torn from the fabric of Ludra and flung into the yawning void between realities. A place beyond death. Beyond life.
Time ceased.
Lucretia drifted through that formless place, a boundless sea of silence, untouched by light, unclaimed by darkness. There was no up or down, no sense of direction or time. The void held her gently, as though even the laws of gravity bowed before her presence. Her body, suspended in the timeless ether, neither breathed nor aged. It was as if the universe itself paused to watch.
She lay in deep slumber, unmoving, unfeeling. Her mind adrift, dreaming of memories she no longer possessed. Yet within that sleep, something subtle stirred. A flicker of essence, a whisper of identity. Not enough to awaken her, but enough to ripple across the stillness, like a stone cast into an unmoving lake.
Yet, something began to stir.
Unconsciously, a gentle stream of her mana began to drift from her sleeping form, as if responding to a dream not yet dreamed. It coalesced in the air near her, a small orb of shimmering white light, delicate and pulsing like a heartbeat. Slowly, steadily, the orb grew, expanding in quiet defiance of the void that surrounded it. Layers of glowing essence wrapped around its core, accumulating mass and shape until it began to resemble a tiny world of pale sand. It hovered in stillness, a newborn planet birthed from unconscious will and divine instinct.
A world.
It began as a speck of light, a thought barely formed. Then, it grew. White sand stretched from her feet in all directions. A breeze began to whisper, soft and curious. The sky remained blank, a canvas awaiting stars. Still, it was a beginning.
When Lucretia awoke, her feet sank slightly into pale sand. All around her was silence. She stood alone, her silver hair rustling in the still air, though no wind blew. She could not feel thirst. Hunger did not gnaw at her. She breathed, yet felt no pain, no fatigue. The only sensation was the faint hum of mana that thrummed beneath her skin.
"Huh...? Where am I...?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper, swallowed instantly by the empty expanse. Lucretia clutched her head, eyes scanning the endless dunes with growing unease. Her mind was a blank canvas, her memories scattered like dust on the wind. All she knew was her name, and that she was an elf. The rest, the battles, the world of Ludra, the reason she had been summoned, was lost to the void. The war, the plea of the elders, the light that brought her forth... all of it was gone.
She wandered.
The landscape was empty. No mountains, no rivers, not even a single tree. Just dunes of pristine white, unmarked by any presence. Each step left no trail. Each moment felt eternal.
And yet, she hoped.
Lucretia did not understand this world, nor did she know why she was here. But something within whispered that she was not finished. That she was not alone. Her memories remained locked away, yet her resolve held firm. If she could summon even a single star into this void, perhaps she could summon more. Life, companionship, meaning.
The solitude was overwhelming. Yet she did not despair. Instead, she looked to the invisible sky and spoke aloud her first words in this new world:
"Is anyone there?"
Only silence answered.
But deep beneath the sands, the pulse of creation stirred.
---
To be continue.