The Moonlit Curse



Under the silver gaze of a full moon, in the shadow of the forsaken cathedral of Eltherion, she walked alone—Vaelith Sylmoriel, the Pale Warden of the Withering Court.
Long ago, Vaelith was a guardian of the living forests, her heart bound to the rhythm of nature and the song of the stars. But centuries past, she defied the ancient pact, seeking forbidden knowledge buried deep beneath the roots of time. In doing so, she awoke something slumbering—a curse older than even the elven kings remembered.
Now, her once sun-kissed skin had turned ghostly pale, as though drained by the moon itself. Her hair shimmered like liquid silver, a haunting banner of her penance. Gemstones of forgotten age adorned her crimson raiment, each one a sealed memory she could no longer bear to hold.
Whispers followed her through the mists—some called her a ghost, others a goddess fallen from grace. But she was neither. She was the sentinel of twilight, guarding the threshold between the world of the living and the dead, her soul forever caught between.