Elara had always felt the pull of the Whispering Woods, the ancient forest that bordered her village of Oakhaven. Unlike the other villagers who spoke of its shadows with fear, Elara felt a strange kinship with the rustling leaves and the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy. Today, the pull was stronger than ever, a subtle hum that resonated deep within her bones. Ignoring her mother's calls for help with the afternoon chores, Elara slipped through the worn wooden fence and into the cool embrace of the trees.
Deeper she ventured than usual, the familiar paths dissolving into a tapestry of moss-covered roots and whispering streams. It was then, nestled beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient oak, that she found it. A stone, unlike any she had ever seen. It was smooth and obsidian black, pulsing with a faint inner light. Intricate silver markings, like frozen lightning, spiraled across its surface. As her fingers brushed against the cool stone, a jolt, not of pain but of pure energy, surged through her. Visions flooded her mind – towering cities of shimmering crystal, winged creatures soaring through fiery skies, and a shadow that writhed with malevolent intent. The visions vanished as quickly as they came, leaving Elara breathless and her hand tingling where it had touched the stone. The markings on the stone now glowed faintly, mirroring a strange new pattern that had inexplicably appeared on the palm of her own hand.