Veilborn: Into the Magic World

A moment of relief dawned upon Ellie as she stepped into the quiet oasis of Ashmere Park. Twilight wrapped the place in a velvety hush. The park was empty apart from a few people busy in their own moments. People often leave before dusk as the winds get colder towards the night. And, hence, Ellie is able to calm her rushing mind working on her sketchbook.

"My perfect haven." Ellie muttered looking up at the soft purples and deep blues stretching across the sky like an unfinished canvas.

She clutched her satchel tightly, its strap digging into her shoulder. After hours spent juggling orders at the café, this was the moment she longed for, the park, the solitude, and her sketchbook.

The massive oak tree stood sentinel near the center of the park, its sprawling branches casting a lattice of shadows on the ground. Ellie made her way across it, walking towards her favourite spot under a smaller tree, her steps crunching softly on the gravel path. She eased herself down onto the cool grass, leaning against the tree's sturdy trunk. For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the world exhale around her. The scent of damp earth and freshly fallen leaves filled her senses, grounding her in the present.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the sketchbook. The leather-bound cover was worn smooth from a couple years of use, its edges frayed like a secret too often told. She flipped it open, revealing pages filled with landscapes that didn't exist anywhere but in her mind. Jagged cliffs shrouded in mist. Rivers that ran black as ink. Towering spires made of crystalline light. Strange symbols dotted the margins, ones she never consciously added but seemed to appear when she wasn't looking.

Ellie ran her fingers over the textured paper, her pencil poised above a blank page. She drew the first line, a curving arc that hinted at the outline of a tree. Then another, and another, until the scene began to take shape: a forest, dense and dreamlike, where the trees seemed to shimmer as if bathed in moonlight.

The sound of her pencil scratching against the page was a soothing rhythm, pulling her into the flow of creation. Her shoulders relaxed, and the tension of the day began to melt away.

In the middle of her intense focus on her work, a sudden prickle of awareness danced up her spine, breaking her flow. Ellie paused, her pencil hovering mid-stroke. The air felt heavier, thicker, as if the park was holding its breath. She glanced up, her eyes scanning the darkening landscape.

The path was empty, the benches deserted. A streetlamp flickered in the distance, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch farther than they should. A trick of the light, she told herself. And yet...

Her gaze drifted towards the edges of the trees. The shadows there didn't just sit quietly. They seemed to shift, pooling and spreading like ink spilled on parchment.

"Stop it," she muttered under her breath. "It's just your imagination."

Her voice sounded too loud, even in a whisper. The park swallowed it whole, leaving only silence. Ellie shook her head and bent back over her sketchbook.

As she sketched, a sense of unease began to build. It was subtle at first, like the faintest hum of a distant melody she couldn't quite place. She ignored it, focusing instead on the forest she was bringing to life on the page. The trees grew taller and more twisted. She added flickers of light between the branches, each one casting a faint glow. It was beautiful and colourful yet felt eerie, a place that felt both inviting and ominous.

Her pencil moved on its own, tracing shapes and curves she hadn't planned. A symbol emerged in the heart of the forest, a glowing rune, intricate and unfamiliar. Ellie stared at it, her breath catching in her throat.

The symbol that emerged in the heart of the forest was unlike anything Ellie had ever consciously imagined. Yet, as her pencil danced across the page, it came to life with an unbidden precision, as if her hand were guided by something beyond her control. It started with a simple curve, smooth and deliberate, arcing gracefully at the center of the drawing. From there, sharp angles branched outward, interwoven with lines so delicate they appeared almost like veins in a leaf. Circles and spirals intertwined, their edges impossibly intricate, creating a design that seemed to hum with latent energy even in its unfinished state.

The rune glowed faintly on the page, a trick of her shading, or so she thought. It shimmered as if alive, with a subtle luminescence that made it seem carved from starlight. It felt as if it instilled life in the whole forest that she drew.

It didn't seem just a random doodle; it felt deliberate, purposeful. Each line and curve seemed to mean something, though Ellie couldn't begin to guess what. The symbol exuded an ancient quality, like it belonged to a language far older than any she knew.

As Ellie stared at the rune, a wave of déjà vu washed over her. The lines and shapes felt achingly familiar, tugging at the edges of her memory like a half-forgotten melody. Had she seen it before? Perhaps in a dream? Or was it something deeper, something etched into the very fabric of her being?

The design seemed to pulse faintly, almost imperceptibly, like a heartbeat. It drew her in, holding her gaze, demanding her attention. A strange warmth radiated from the page, seeping into her fingertips as she traced the edges of the rune. There was an undeniable sense that this symbol mattered, though she couldn't explain why.

In her mind, fleeting impressions flickered—images and sensations she couldn't fully grasp. The sound of rustling leaves, a cool wind carrying whispers, the faint scent of rain-soaked earth. And amidst it all, the symbol burned brightly, like a beacon calling to her from the depths of her subconscious.

The whispers began softly then, faint and unintelligible, like voices carried on the wind. They grew louder as Ellie focused on the rune, a rhythmic murmur that seemed to resonate with the glowing design. It wasn't a language she recognized, but it wasn't entirely foreign either. The cadence of the whispers struck a chord deep within her, as if the rune and the voices were intertwined, part of the same enigmatic force.

As her focus deepened, Ellie's surroundings faded. The park, the oak tree, even the chill of the evening air, all of it blurred into insignificance. It was just her and the rune now, the glowing lines commanding her attention. The symbol seemed to shift slightly under her gaze, the patterns rearranging themselves in subtle, almost imperceptible ways.