The evening breeze swept softly across the wildflower meadows as the sun Quintra began her slow descent towards the horizon. Across Eonil, golden light faded, and the sky gradually filled with deeper, richer shades of blue. The world seemed to hold its breath, caught between the last warmth of day and the hush that came with night. On the far side of the world, the blue moon Denday would soon rise—full and bright, ready to cast her mysterious light over the land.
A young adult high elf slipped quietly from the stone steps of the temple of Quintra. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the last rays of sunlight, and her platinum-blonde hair was tied into a side braid that hung loosely over her shoulder. Her robes, in soft hues of cream and gold, marked her clearly as a novice priestess—a servant of the goddess of Light. She moved with a careful grace, every movement deliberate. Before stepping off the temple grounds, she paused, casting a nervous glance behind her to make certain she was unobserved. Satisfied that the evening was hers alone, the young high elf made her way across the fields, her path traced by the faint glimmer of dew on grass.
With each step away from the sanctuary of the temple, Neri’Va felt her heart thudding a little faster. The warnings echoed in her memory, words spoken countless times by elders and fellow priestesses: Never enter the forest after sunset. Especially not alone. Darkness in the woods was a different kind of dark—one that belonged to old things, things best left undisturbed. Yet here she was, clutching a small wicker basket, her resolve bolstered by desperation. Tonight was not about rules. Tonight, someone’s life depended on her.
As the fields gave way to woodland, Neri’Va paused beneath a tall ash, breathing in the cool, earthy scent of moss and fallen leaves. She could already feel the difference: the woods held their own magic, quieter and more ancient than anything she had ever felt in the temple. Here, the wind moved differently, and every shadow seemed to flicker with secrets. She pressed onward, letting the hush of twilight settle around her like a second skin.
Denday, the blue moon, was just beginning to rise. Her first rays filtered through the trees, turning the world into a place of silver and shadow. The novice priestess followed a faint path between roots and brambles, her sandals muffled on the loamy ground. She could hear the chirr of night insects and, somewhere far off, the high keening cry of a night bird. The forest was alive in ways the sunlit world never was.
Neri’Va kept her eyes low, scanning for the distinctive shape of the berry bushes she needed. At the base of a great old oak, she finally found a cluster of small white berries, each one round and pale as milk. Kneeling, she plucked a berry and held it up towards the blue moon, letting Denday’s light spill across her palm. Under the moon’s gentle rays, the berry began to glow—a faint but unmistakable blue shimmer. Relief loosened her shoulders. Denday berries. She could only be certain of their power under the full moon’s gaze; by day, they were just white fruit, easily mistaken for something useless or even poisonous. But now, with the moon full and bright, the true berries all but called out to her.
As she reached to gather more, the forest seemed to lean in around her, silent and watchful. Every rustle and sigh made her nerves prickle. Neri’Va tried to focus on her task, but her mind flickered back to the reason for this night-time errand: a young stable hand, his face pale and lips blue, felled by a venomous bite. The priestesses of Quintra had few remedies for such poisons—yet an elder healer whispered that the right preparation of Denday berries could save him. The trouble was, such berries were rare, and could only be found on nights like this.
A sudden sound snapped her from her thoughts—a sharp crack of a twig, then the quick rustle of leaves. Neri’Va’s heart leapt into her throat. She rose quickly, scanning the gloom. Moonlight danced on the bark of trees and glinted off wet leaves, but there was no sign of anyone—or anything—nearby. She held her breath, listening. For a moment, all was still. Perhaps it was nothing more than a fox or a hedgehog, roused by the scent of fresh berries. She tried to calm herself, but her hands shook as she hurried to pick a few more berries, determined not to leave without what she needed.
But the forest was not finished with her yet.
“Go back now!” A voice, low and rough, suddenly rang out—a distinctly female growl that seemed to vibrate through the roots beneath her feet: “You are not welcome here!”
Neri’Va flinched so violently that a berry slipped from her fingers and landed in the moss. Her breath caught. She turned, peering into the moonlit gloom. “I mean no harm,” she replied, her voice wavering but still gentle. “I only need to pick some Denday berries.”
“Denday berries are not for you, Light worshipper! Go home to your light temple!” The voice was nearer now, harsh and edged with old anger.
Neri’Va tried to steady her nerves. She drew herself up and spoke again, her tone pleading: “Please… someone has been poisoned. I can make anti-venom to help him, to heal him. I just need a few more berries.”
Silence. The forest seemed to wait, holding its breath. The novice priestess glanced anxiously about, searching for the speaker, but all she saw were shadows cast by the blue moon.
There was nothing for it but to continue. She spotted another bush ahead and edged towards it, her hands trembling as she reached for more berries. But even as she picked them, her ears strained for the slightest sound.
Suddenly, ahead of her in the darkness, a pair of eyes appeared—eyes shining with an unnatural, deep blue light, almost luminous in the gloom. The voice came again, threatening, close: “Go away! You shouldn’t be here!”
Neri’Va stumbled backwards, the basket jostling in her hands. “I… I’m going now.” Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath came quick and shallow.
But the forest would not let her go so easily. A bush behind her shivered violently, and from its shadows came a wisp of black smoke, curling like a living thing. Then a low, guttural growl echoed, so deep it seemed to shake the ground.
Neri’Va’s eyes went wide with fear. She spun and bolted, running blindly through the trees, the basket clutched to her chest. Branches whipped at her arms and face, roots threatened to trip her, but she ran on, driven by pure instinct.
Behind her came the unmistakable sound of pounding paws—a creature in pursuit. A bestial snarl sounded, far too close, and Neri’Va pushed herself harder, lungs burning. The world shrank to the narrow circle of moonlit ground before her and the looming, hungry darkness all around.
Suddenly, the trees thinned and she burst into a small clearing at the foot of a steep, rocky slope. The mountainside was too sheer to climb, even if she had the courage. Wild grass and scattered Denday berry bushes dotted the base of the cliff. She was trapped.
A monstrous creature emerged from the shadows of the forest. It might once have been a wolf, but its body was grotesquely twisted and swollen by corruption. Its fur was patchy and smoked with greasy, black mist; its eyes burned with a sickly, unnatural red. Muscles rippled beneath its mottled hide, and every movement seemed wrong, unnatural, as if some force had broken and reassembled it for evil purposes.
Neri’Va felt the weight of dread settle in her stomach. She had heard tales of Ghor’s beasts—corrupted creatures, tainted by the dark god’s influence, prowling the night in search of prey. She pressed herself back against the stone wall, desperately searching for something, anything, that might save her.
The corrupted wolf lowered its head, lips pulling back in a snarl. It prowled closer, smoke curling from its jaws. Neri’Va’s mind raced. In a final act of panic, she hurled her basket at the beast. The berries scattered across the grass. The wolf did not even flinch.
Before the creature could leap, another figure exploded into the clearing—a tall, powerfully built elf, skin dark purple and hair cropped short in a wild, dark blue mane. The night dweller wore blackened leather and carried a sword, moving with a speed and ferocity that seemed almost inhuman.
The two clashed in a storm of movement. The corrupted wolf lunged, but the night dweller met it head-on, sword flashing. Neri’Va shrank against the cliff, watching as the beast rammed the other elf, hurling her into the rock with bone-jarring force. The night dweller grunted in pain but rolled aside, coming up sword in hand as the wolf turned its attention back towards the terrified high elf.
Neri’Va cowered low, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving in a frantic prayer to Quintra—words she barely remembered. She knew she had no hope against such a creature.
The wolf tensed to leap.
A rock flew from behind, striking the beast in the flank and sending it sprawling. “Come on, you useless sack of smoke!” the night dweller spat, rising to her feet with a grimace. “Did you really think I’d be finished so easily?”
The wolf whirled, jaws snapping. It lunged at the night dweller, catching her arm in its maw. With a shout, she rammed her sword deep into the creature’s belly. Both howled in pain, but the night dweller pressed her advantage, hacking at the beast again and again, sword flashing in Denday’s light, until the wolf finally collapsed in a heap of fur and smoke.
Silence returned to the clearing. The only sounds were the ragged breaths of the two elves and the distant chorus of night insects.
Slowly, the night dweller turned towards Neri’Va, blood trickling down her arm. In the moonlight, her features were stark: dark purple skin, luminous dark blue eyes that glimmered almost cat-like in the gloom, and an expression that was fierce and strangely noble. She was taller and more powerfully built than Neri’Va, a living shadow and a rumour made real.
Neri’Va stared, trembling, as the night dweller approached. She tried to gather her wits, but her mind swirled with stories—the legends whispered among the priestesses of Quintra about night dwellers, those loyal to the exiled goddess Denday. She had been taught to fear them, to avoid their kind. Yet here was one, kneeling beside her, alive and breathing, real and solid, her presence both intimidating and oddly reassuring.
The night dweller’s voice was stern, but not without concern. “You cannot be here,” she said, looking Neri’Va up and down, as if checking for wounds. “Come, you need to get out of here. Are you hurt?”
Neri’Va stared at the other elf, still lost for words. Her gaze fell to the night dweller’s injured arm, where blood welled from the wolf’s bite. “You’re hurt! Let me help you—I… I am a healer,” she said, reaching out tentatively.
But the night dweller snatched her wrist before she could make contact, holding it in a grip that was strong but not cruel. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, eyes narrowed. “I don’t need your help, Light worshipper.”
She rose in a fluid motion, pulling Neri’Va to her feet with ease. The night dweller stood even taller now, her shadow stretching long across the clearing. She retrieved her sword, then stooped to gather the scattered Denday berries and returned them to the basket, careful and methodical despite her injury.
For a long moment, Neri’Va stood, uncertain, clutching her hands together, eyes fixed on her basket. She wondered if the night dweller would keep it, but after a moment the other elf pressed it firmly into her hands. “Let’s go. Move.”
She gestured towards the trees, and Neri’Va obeyed, following her through the undergrowth. The forest seemed changed now—no longer a place of promise, but a dark, unfamiliar maze. The night dweller moved with sure, silent steps, always glancing over her shoulder to make sure the novice priestess kept up.
At last, the forest thinned, and the lights of the fields were visible beyond the trees. The night dweller stopped and pointed towards the open land. “Off you go,” she said, voice brusque but not unkind.
Neri’Va hesitated, turning to face her unlikely saviour. “Thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t been there—”
“I couldn’t let that Ghor-corrupted sack of bones live,” the night dweller interrupted. She gestured more firmly. “Now go back to your little town.”
“I am Neri’Va, by the way,” the high elf said softly, hoping for some sign of kindness. But the night dweller only shrugged, already turning away, her silhouette swallowed by the darkness of the trees.
A moment later, she was gone, leaving Neri’Va alone at the forest’s edge, clutching her basket and a hundred new questions.