Elena Vonn Gwydion.

  A shy elf who spent most of her days at home, tending to her younger siblings, tidying the house, and filling in for her mother, who had long been bedridden.

  Every month, she waited eagerly for her brother, Darwyn, to return home, hanging onto every word of his adventures. He was her hero. Her idol.

  She often imagined herself beside him, standing tall within the Tower of Ascension, bow in hand, hunting monsters like a true adventurer.

  But dreaming could only take her so far.

  With what little free time she had, Elena trained in secret. She watched the village warriors practice, memorizing their movements, mimicking their stances. With each stolen moment, she honed her archery and martial skills, determined to be ready when her chance finally came.

  Then, one day, it did.

  Her mother recovered.

  And Darwyn kept his promise.

  He would take her to the Tower.

  When the day finally arrived, Elena’s hands trembled with excitement. But the moment she met her new teammates, that excitement turned to crippling nervousness.

  That first night, she barely spoke.

  She sat in silence, listening, watching, absorbing their laughter and conversations but feeling too small to join in.

  And yet, no one judged her. No one dismissed her or made her feel out of place.

  For the first time, she belonged.

  Their first expedition was unforgettable.

  Her first real danger.

  Her first kill.

  Her first near-death experience.

  She would never forget the terror that gripped her when a Kobold Digger ambushed her.

  She had frozen. Completely paralyzed. She should have died that day.

  But Erynd had been faster. And Darwyn had been there, protecting her, keeping her safe.

  She remembered the shame. The guilt. How she had stood there, useless, forcing the others to protect her like she was some helpless child.

  That moment changed everything.

  She trained harder. She refused to be a burden.

  Her scouting skills sharpened. Her combat instincts improved. Slowly, she grew stronger.

  She grew closer to Orin. Learned to joke and banter with the team.

  But the person she was most grateful to was Erynd.

  The brilliant druid strategist, whose tactical mind had saved them countless times. It was because of him that she had earned the Webweaver Longbow, an irreplaceable treasure that amplified her abilities tenfold.

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  She could still remember the first time she held it, her hands shaking with disbelief, her heart swelling with pride.

  She had finally contributed to the team.

  After returning from the Tower, she trained tirelessly, determined to master her new weapon.

  Now, with another adventure ahead, she couldn’t wait.

  Not just to grow stronger.

  But to prove. To herself and everyone else, that she was no longer the weak girl who needed saving.

  ***

  All that training. All that hard work.

  For nothing.

  She was still the same Elena.

  Weak. Useless.

  Always hiding behind her brother. Always relying on her team.

  She couldn't move.

  She couldn't think.

  When Nyrathos lunged, fangs bared and dripping with venom, all she could do was stand there. Frozen in sheer terror.

  Her body refused to react.

  Her breath hitched.

  Her mind screamed at her to dodge, to fight, to do anything. But her limbs wouldn’t obey.

  So she closed her eyes.

  And waited.

  The pain came instantly.

  A sharp, searing agony as Nyrathos’ fang sank deep into her chest, piercing through flesh and bone with terrifying ease.

  It should have made her scream.

  It should have made her beg.

  But no sound left her lips.

  The poison spread quickly.

  A fiery burn at first, then a creeping numbness, spreading from her chest to her fingertips, her legs, her very core.

  Her heart, which had been hammering against her ribs in panic, slowed.

  Each beat weaker.

  Slower.

  Breathing became impossible.

  The air in her lungs felt like liquid lead. Her throat constricted. The taste of blood filled her mouth, thick and suffocating, spilling past her lips, down her chin, drowning her.

  Distantly, she heard voices, muffled and fragmented, as if they were coming from another world.

  Orin.

  Erynd.

  And then—

  Darwyn.

  Her brother's voice cut through the haze. Desperate. Frantic. Calling her name over and over again.

  But she couldn’t answer.

  She couldn’t even lift a finger.

  The world around her blurred.

  Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. Her body felt like it was floating, weightless, disconnected.

  Is this what dying feels like?

  There was no fear. No sorrow. Just… nothing. A vast, empty void where even pain had begun to fade.

  Her body no longer belonged to her. She could feel it shutting down, one piece at a time.

  And yet, her mind kept going.

  Memories surfaced, unbidden.

  If only…

  If only she had trained harder.

  If only she had stayed home, looking after her family.

  If only she had been stronger.

  Regret clawed at her.

  She saw their faces in her mind. Her mother and father, her younger siblings.

  Darwyn.

  Muradin.

  Orin.

  And last of all.

  Erynd.

  Her heart twisted.

  She wanted to see them again.

  To laugh.

  To hold them.

  To spend just a little more time with them.

  And in that moment, she realized.

  This wasn’t just the end of a battle.

  This was the end of everything.