The Stolen Heart of the Elven Prince

Seraphina, a firework of a human mage with hair the shade of shined copper, hunched behind a contorted oak, heart pounding a rushed musicality against her ribs. Her objective: Ruler Elrohir, successor to the Elven lofty position, stood washed in moonlight, his silver hair sparkling like evening glow on snow. However, Seraphina hadn't arrived to respect his ethereal excellence. She was here to win his love.

Not in a real sense, obviously. Taking a strict heart would be untidy, savage, and in all honesty, underneath her. No, Seraphina required his figurative heart, his actual quintessence. It was the way to opening an old spell, a frantic bet to save her fire-desolated town. A huge fire evil spirit, stirred by a maverick mage's imprudence, took steps to consume everything in its way. Just the mantra carved on a disintegrating scroll, went down through ages, offered a bit of trust. In any case, the custom requested a strong channel - the core of an animal immaculate by obscurity.

Elrohir, with his unadulterated Elven genealogy and unbelievable sympathy, fit the bill impeccably. But mythical people were famously careful about enchantment, particularly human sorcery. Taking his quintessence would be a demonstration of war, a double-crossing that could touch off a contention among people and mythical beings. However, Seraphina had no way out. The blazes crawled nearer as time passed, gobbling up homes and residences.

Taking a full breath, Seraphina spread out a sparkling parchment, its edges seared from neglected fights. Murmuring the antiquated chant, she held her hand out, palm confronting Elrohir. Ringlets of emerald light twirled around her fingers, connecting towards the clueless sovereign.

Unexpectedly, Elrohir's head gobbled up. His eyes, the shade of sundown, restricted, and a silver edge emerged in his grasp. Seraphina howled, scrambling back as the emerald ringlets dispersed. Elrohir followed towards her, his means quiet and dangerous.

"A human illegal entering Elven soil, and fiddling with taboo enchantments?" His voice was a stroke of ice, bound with calm fierceness.

Seraphina gulped her apprehension. "Your Majesty, kindly get it. It's an incomprehensibly important issue." Momentarily, she made sense of the fire devil, the town's situation, and the frantic ceremony.

Elrohir tuned in, his face a mixed up veil. At the point when she got done, a long quietness extended between them. At long last, he talked, his voice gentler at this point. "Why me? Most likely there are alternate ways."

Seraphina shook her head. "The ceremonial requests virtue, a heart immaculate by obscurity. You are the one in particular who fits the portrayal."

Elrohir read her briefly, his look immovable. Then, at that point, to her surprise, a little grin played all the rage. "Great, little mage. Yet, taking my embodiment will not be so natural."

Shock overwhelmed Seraphina. "You… you concur?"

"There are more terrible things than a taken heart," he said, a sprinkle of entertainment flashing in his eyes. "Moreover, maybe a decent deed is the way to ease pressures between our races."

With a flick of his wrist, Elrohir broadened his hand. Seraphina faltered, then mindfully reflected his signal. As their fingertips met, a shock of energy flooded through her. Pictures overflowed her brain - Elrohir's experience growing up spent among the murmuring pines, his immovable reliability to his kin, a gleam of depression in his eyes. It wasn't simply his quintessence she was taking; she was seeing his spirit.

The energy died down, leaving a glow afterward. Elrohir pulled out his hand, his grin more extensive this time. "There. Presently go, little mage. Save your town."

Seraphina, overpowered with appreciation and an unusual feeling of association, gestured mutely. With a last gander at the Elven sovereign washed in moonlight, she turned and dashed back towards the gleaming flares of her town, the taken heart of the Elven ruler shining brilliantly inside her.