Eternal

 

Eternal

The cobblestone streets of Aethel glistened under the reluctant dawn. Seraphina,

 her once fiery hair now streaked with silver, huddled deeper into her cloak. Her

 hands, gnarled with age, wrapped around a worn leather pouch. Inside, a single,

 shimmering feather pulsed with an ethereal light. This feather, a gift from the last

 Fae, held the key to Aethel's survival.

Once, Aethel had been a bustling city, its lifeblood sustained by the magic woven

 by the Fae. But the Fae had vanished, leaving behind a desolate world where crops

 withered and the once vibrant magic dwindled with each passing year. Seraphina,

 the last Keeper, was tasked with preserving the final vestiges of magic, a burden

 that weighed heavily on her aging frame.

She reached the abandoned Faegrove, a place where laughter used to fill the air

 and fantastical creatures danced in the moonlight. Now, overgrown vines choked

 the twisting paths, and silence reigned. Seraphina approached the heart of the

 grove, where a massive oak, the last remaining Fae conduit, stood resolute against

 the encroaching decay.

As she placed the feather on the oak's gnarled roots, a tremor shook the earth. A

 luminescent light erupted from the feather, engulfing Seraphina and the tree.

 Memories flooded her mind: vibrant meadows bathed in Fae light, mischievous

 sprites flitting about, and the melody of the Fae Queen's laughter. Then, the

 darkness, the screams, the Fae's anguished retreat.

The light faded, and Seraphina stood blinking in the clearing. Before her stood a

 woman, cloaked in shimmering light, the unmistakable regal bearing of the Fae

 Queen. Seraphina, overcome with emotion, fell to her knees.

"My Queen," she rasped, "what has become of your kind? Why have you forsaken us?"

The Queen's gaze held a flicker of sorrow. "A great darkness," she said, her voice like

 tinkling bells, "consumes the Fae realm. We cannot return until it is vanquished."

Seraphina's heart sank. "But Aethel is dying! Without your magic, we have nothing."

The Queen placed a hand on Seraphina's bowed head. "Hope remains, Keeper. You

 have the potential to become what comes next."

Confusion clouded Seraphina's mind. "Next? What do you mean?"

"The magic resides within you, now," the Queen explained. "It needs nurturing,

 shaping. Help it grow."

A wave of dizziness washed over Seraphina. The task sounded monumental. But

 looking at the barren landscape, the resolute Queen, a flicker of hope ignited

 within her.

Years passed. Seraphina poured her remaining strength into nurturing the magic

 within. She spent countless hours studying ancient Fae texts, attempting to

 decipher the cryptic symbols. Slowly, tentatively, she began to grasp the essence

 of their magic.

One day, a young woman named Elara stumbled into the ruins of the Faegrove.

 Unlike Seraphina's hardened exterior, Elara was filled with a youthful curiosity. She

 was drawn to Seraphina, her wrinkled face etched with an untold story.

Seraphina, initially wary, found herself drawn to Elara's untarnished hope. She

 started teaching Elara the ways of the Fae, cautiously sharing the Queen's

 message. Elara, a quick learner, blossomed under Seraphina's tutelage.

One evening, as they sat by a crackling fire, Elara questioned, "Why haven't you

 used the magic to save Aethel, Seraphina?"

Seraphina hesitated. "It's too powerful, too untamed. It could be disastrous."

Elara's gaze held a quiet defiance. "But without it, Aethel dies. We need to try."

Seraphina's heart ached. The fear of failure was a constant companion. But looking

 at Elara's determined face, a memory flickered: the Fae Queen, urging her to

 nurture the magic.

Taking a deep breath, Seraphina and Elara ventured outside. The sky was a canvas

 of twilight, the first stars emerging. Together, they channeled the magic within,

 their voices intertwining in an ancient Fae chant.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a faint glow emanated from their palms, growing

 stronger with each passing breath. Fear turned to exhilaration as tendrils of light

 reached out, weaving through the barren landscape. Withered seeds in the ground

 sprouted, leaves unfurled on once-bare branches. Aethel began to breathe again.

For days and nights, fueled by newfound purpose, Seraphina and Elara nourished

 the nascent magic. Aethel transformed. Lush greenery replaced barren patches,

 flowers bloomed in vibrant hues, and the air