An eleven-year-old Kishrylmian elf named Zoriezla Dezairion sat on the branch of an enormous oak tree located in the immense forest surrounding her small village, Shérino. An old, red, slightly tattered sketchbook lay in front of her.
It was the middle of a summer’s night, nothing in the sky except for the moon and stars. A river, called the Lezyverre, cut through the forest, zigzagging in many directions. Gigantic trees grew alongside it, making it a great place to play. A towering waterfall roared a few yards away, the sound of it oddly relaxing to Zoriezla.
She grinned, grabbing her pen and beginning to draw the beautiful landscape. Her sketch took about 17 minutes to complete, and when it was, it turned out quite well, mostly due to the fact that she was a great artist to begin with, and her sketchbook was directly beneath the moonlight.
After looking at her sketch and fixing a few details, Zoriezla gracefully leaped down from the tree, landing on her bare feet. She then grabbed her staff and marked the next clean page in her sketchbook with a pen. As she was about to walk back home, she admired the beautiful landscape once again- or, at least, tried to. However, her sapphire blue and emerald green eyes were focusing on something else- a pair of glowing, blood red eyes, watching her every move.
“Hello?!” Zoriezla said. She had a light, pleasant voice that did not seem to match her personality.
No one answered.
“I’m not leaving until you depart this forest,” Zoriezla declared to the blood red eyes, somewhat testily. She pulled out her staff.
This time, there was an answer, but it was not what Zoriezla expected.
An elf rose from a bush and yelled, “DEJARRALYNRU!”
He was a young elf, (Zoriezla assumed he was probably eight or nine years old) dressed completely in black. His hair was chocolate brown with flecks of red in it, and his eyes were ruby red.
Vivid orange, red, neon purple, bright green, blue, aqua, and black sparks lit up the bush. It seemed as though nothing happened until Zoriezla heard the young elf cheerfully exclaim, “Huzzah! Strawberries!”
Another elf that Zoriezla did not have a chance to look at suddenly bellowed, “ZHOMIULO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”
“Eating st-strawberries…” Zhomiulo, the young elf, stuttered nervously. “I- I apologize, sir… I shall try to be more careful next time.”
“There shan’t BE a next time,” the other elf replied, drawing out his staff. He aimed it at Zhomiulo’s chest.
Despite the fact that she was walking away, Zoriezla could almost see a twisted, evil grin on his face as Zhomiulo screamed in pain.