The Iron-Bound had come. They were men who had forgotten the language of the leaves, encased in steam-hissing suits of metal, driven by a hunger for the "Heart-Sap"—the glowing amber essence that kept the forest eternally green.
The trouble began when the silence changed. The usual chatter of the squirrels and the rhythmic drumming of the woodpeckers stopped. In its place came the mechanical clunk-shriek of iron meeting ancient root. The Forest Champion!
The legend of "The Forest Champion" is a tale told by the moss-covered stones and the whispering oaks of the Elderwood. It is not a title given by men, but one earned through the pulse of the earth itself. The Iron-Bound had come
"Go back to your stone cities," Elara called out as they fled. "Tell them the Champion is awake. And she is very protective of her garden." The usual chatter of the squirrels and the
As the forest returned to its song, Elara leaned against a tree. The bark felt warm. The hum in her bones settled into a satisfied purr. She wasn't a conqueror; she was the shield. And as long as the sun hit the leaves, the Forest Champion would never truly be alone.
Elara didn't charge them with a battle cry. She simply stepped out from behind a massive fern, her eyes reflecting the deep emerald of the canopy.