eulaab

[eulaab]

Familiar Contract: A Friend Like Sky (Sylvaris vol. 4)

The clearing pulsed with magic.

Ellie stood in front of the Sacred Flame of Sylvaris, her arm heavy in a pale blue gypsum cast, the pale wrap catching glints of moonlight like a second moon tethered to her side. Around her, the other members had already made their offerings — embers of memory, whispered hopes, saltwater tears drawn from secrets they'd never voiced aloud. Now it was her turn.

She hesitated.

The Sacred Flame cracked and whispered, a living thing breathing softly, as though beckoning. It was warm, inviting. Familiar, even. But Ellie’s fingers twitched at her side. She didn’t want this. Not really. Not since—

her throat tightened.

Not since the day they buried Nono. Her childhood dog. Her best friend. Her entire world when the grownups forgot how to be present. The ache from that day had never faded, only folded inward, hidden beneath volunteer shifts at the shelter, behind careful smiles and the small, prickly company of two succulents perched at her apartment window. Safe companions. Silent ones. The kind that don’t leave.

The flame flickered, waiting. The Sylvarian Elder’s voice rang out, rhythmic and ancient. “Each must cast their offering into the fire — a memory, a tear, a fragment of essence — and open the soul’s gate to those who would answer the call. And it's your turn Ellie.”

Ellie stepped forward slowly, swallowing her doubt. With her free hand, she clutched a small velvet pouch. Inside it was a single, time-worn tag: Nono’s. Her offering.

“I stand beneath the boughs of Sylvaris, where the moonlight dances upon the leaves, and the Sacred Flame bears witness,” she recited, voice soft but steady. “I offer my soul's ember—a fragment of my being—to the spirit who answers my call. I open my heart to the familiar who would walk beside me. I grant you shelter within my spirit, and in return, you grant me your strength and your truth. Together we walk the path, sharing fate's burdens and joys. May our bond be unbroken until the moon forgets to rise.”

With a quiet exhale, she tossed the pouch into the fire. The flames flared in response, licking higher than they should have, crackling with energy not entirely of this world. The air grew thick, dense with something ancient and alive. Shapes swirled in the fire — first smoke, then light, then muscle and fur.

From the heart of the Sacred Flame stepped a tiger. Not an ordinary beast, but a creature made of sky and legend. His coat shimmered white, streaked with soft silver. His stripes flickered like ink in moonlight. And his eyes—sharp and clear—locked with hers in a way that made her breath falter.

“A Sky Tiger…” someone murmured in awe.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. It was... beautiful. Majestic, soaring, fierce — or maybe tooo fierce, too real, too much.

She took a step back.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered, heart racing. “I didn’t want—”

But the tiger moved forward, slowly, gently. It did not roar, it did not pounce. It knelt — lowering its regal head until it was level with hers.

No demands. Only presence.

Ellie looked away, shielding her face with her cast-bound arm. “I don’t want to lose anything ever again,” she said, voice cracking. “I can’t.”

And yet, the tiger simply waited.

The memory of Nono flooded her. The loyalty, the joy, the devastation. But now, standing in this circle, staring into the eyes of a spirit that mirrored both her sorrow and her strength, something shifted. She felt — seen. Not for who she pretended to be, but for who she truly was: afraid, yes, but still reaching.

Tentatively, she stepped forward and pressed her forehead against the tiger’s. It was warm — like sunlight on winter skin.

“I can’t promise I won’t be scared,” she murmured. “Or that I’ll be perfect. But… i think i want to try.”

The Sky Tiger rumbled softly — not a growl, but a low hum that vibrated deep in her bones. An answer.

Their bond was sealed.

Later, she named it Sky, not because it’s grand or distant, but because it’s always there. In the days to come, Sky would curl beside her cast when the pain flared. It would nudge her gently when memories overwhelmed. At night, when silence crept in, it would lift its head and stare at the stars—as if reminding her that even broken things could shine.

Ellie had spent so long building walls that she forgot what it felt like to be truly known. But now, with Sky beside her, maybe… just maybe… she could begin again.

[eulaab]

Crossing The Divide: Completed Sentences, Shattered Minds (ofNE vol. 3)

Ellie paused at the worn stone archway leading to the courtyard, the air unusually still for mid-morning. Usually, the chatter of her friends mingling with the distant peal of the clock’s bell usually hang in the air, but today, silence stretched tight like a held breath. She pulled her cardigan closer, the soft chill seeping from the crawling shadows beneath the ancient walls.

The school she had always seen as a sanctuary now suddenly felt like a fragile relic, teetering on the edge of something unseen. The ivy climbing up its stones seemed darker, the warm sheen of light passing through stained glass replaced by a muted gray. Her steps slowed as she passed between the familiar arches and spiraling corridors. She tried to ignore the subtle shift, the way whispers seemed to settle just beyond touch or how the eyes she met lingered too long before looking away.

She had never believed in omens or premonitions, but the recurring dream gnawed at her sanity. A dream with no faces, no clear story — only that suffocating silence and a word that held to the lip of memory: Power. Evil. Breach.

She leaned against the cold stone bench near the garden, absently tracing the edge of a carved symbol etched into the wood — a forgotten sigil from a legend nobody shared anymore. In her mind, the shattered phrase from the dream flickered like a broken melody:

“Through love untainted by hunger for power, the balance of good and evil shall bind, and from the breach, light shall rise anew.”

Ellie had been piecing together those words for days, her mind circling around how Power, Evil, and Breach fitted the broken sentences. Why those three? Because they felt like the spine of the mystery — raw and primal forces tugging on the very foundations of everything she knew.

She understood now that the dream was not just a nightmare but a perhaps a warning. And the chant — the incomplete sentence — was a call to remember, to awaken something dormant. The dream had asked of her to perceive the fragile thread binding good and evil in the school’s legacy, and that the breach was where the future would be decided.

But the weight of that knowledge weighed her down. Did she has to believe that the school was truly in danger? Somewhere deep inside, a doubt arose. She wondered if the shadows had always been there, quietly waiting, and if knowing about of them was a blessing or a curse.

Was this all only a dream or she meant to know all of this to save something; to stand and fight for balance, or simply a witness, a fragile keeper of a fading world?

The thought of trying to fix it all — to bring back the warmth, the pulse, the ordinary magic of a place that felt like home — was overwhelming. Yet, walking away felt like surrender, like letting the silence swallow everything, including herself.

Her thoughts tangled like splinters beneath her skin — sharp, insistent, impossible to ignore. Was she strong enough to fight for the light? Or was the price too high?

Ellie didn’t know. Not yet.

But she had to decide.

[eulaab]

Crazy little thing called: Miro.

It started with a breeze. Not too cold, not too warm — just enough to carry the scent of grass and distant wisteria. I always loved a hill. So, Miro said there was a pretty hill —three kilometers away from our apartment. And here we were still in the same city who never sleep yet it felt like another country, another hour, another time. Miro and i had passed it often but silly me never know this place existed.

A medium basket, packed like a poem: two burgers, a sandwich halved for fairness or maybe... flirting, and a bottle of orange juice that caught the sun like gold caught in glass. The walk here made my shoes dusty. My breath came easy. He was beside me, humming some tune under his breath, the one he always does when he's too happy to sit still.

We laid the blanket down in the tall grass. I had to press it flat with both palms while Miro fluffed one corner like that somehow mattered. It didn’t, but it made me smile. He sat first. Then me. Not touching, but close. So close.

The basket sat between us until i nudged it open. He reached in, pulled out the sandwich, then held it out like an offering.

“Wanna split?”

I raised a brow. “Only if i get the bigger half?” He laughed, and i swear — every laugh of his feels like the sun nudging through clouds. Like i could bottle it if i tried.

I reached for the sandwich, and just as my fingers brushed his, he slid an arm around my waist and pulled me in. No warning. No explanation. Just here, he seemed to say. Be here with me. And so i leaned. There was no reason not to. I belonged exactly where he placed me.

My cheek hovered near his shoulder now, our legs brushing with every soft shift. The sun glowed behind us, and our shadows spilled forward on the grass, joined at the hip.

“I missed this,” I, murmured, watching the clouds idle above.

“Me too,” he replied, mouth half-full. “We should file a complaint about this adultery life. Always stealing us from each other.”

She chuckled. “I think we would need good lawyers for that?”

They slipped into easy conversation, the kind that wanders like a lazy river — topics with no anchor, just laughter, a few shared looks, and moments of thoughtful quiet. Then i tilted my head against him, still staring forward, as if the wind had just given her a secret to share.

“Love,” i said softly, “do you have things i do that make you feel loved?”

He was quiet for a second. Not awkward — just thinking. Then he looked down at me, the corners of his mouth lifting like he was amused by the question i just asked him.

“I don’t think i could list anything specific,” he said. “It’s more like… when you’re there, i feel it. That’s enough. You walk into a room, and suddenly the room gets easier to be in.”

I smiled, heart keeps fluttering with something i couldn’t name. But then, Miro—predictably—couldn’t resist adding, “Bet you can’t list mine either.”

And that’s when it happened.

The breeze stilled.

Time, like an obedient servant, paused just long enough for my gaze to settle on him —really settle. My mind raced, yet everything softened. The hill felt quieter. The sky turned a little dreamier. And my own heart, however, didn’t quiet — it recited.

One — the way he calls me with sweet little nickname; love, sweetheart, pineapple, or whatever future miro will call me.

Two — when he squeezes my cheeks like it's a stressball, i hope it does lighten his day.

Three — how he always keep me updated with what our dearest close friends been up to since i’m not that good keeping up with it.

Four — when he shows up mid-game just to keep me company.

Five — the shampoo and soap, he always tries to smells like me.

Six — when he plays with my hair absentmindedly.

Seven — how he caresses me like i’m one of his fur babies.

Eight — when he makes me my favorite foods or snacks.

Nine — how he sends me links of things that he finds cute.

Ten — when he stays up a little bit late so we can chat more about the day, i like talking with him like he's my world. He is.

Eleven — when he cuddles me so my feet no longer feels cold and i can hear the soft marching of his heartbeat. And he let me have 5 more minutes whenever we wakes up.

Twelve — when he's being all clingy (rare sight, i wish he shows me this side more often? miro, you're a baby)

Thirteen — how he always feeds me the first bite so he can see whether i like the food or not.

Fourteen — when he remember stuffs about us.

Fifteen — when he smiles and the world just... stops.

I didn’t say a word. The list stayed stitched inside my chest like a secret poem written in gold thread. The world around us softened, blurred. I could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant city hum, but none of it touched me. Not here. Not with him beside me, chewing a sandwich and looking smug.

He looked up, mid-bite, and noticed i hadn’t answered.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful, playful and unaware.

I just smiled. Then slowly, i leaned in.

He froze a little — just a blink, like his brain was still catching up. His big doe-bambi eyes widened. I saw the flicker of thought behind them. Curiosity. Surprise.

And then—

I kissed him.

Soft. Simple. Certain.

It was the kind of kiss that didn’t need permission. The kind that said I see you. I remember everything.

He stilled, then smiled as our lips parted. His sandwich had gone sideways, his free hand hovered midair like it forgot what to do. I laughed against his shoulder, leaning back into him. He didn’t ask what the kiss meant. He didn’t need to.

Some things you don’t say. You just feel them — and hope the other person feels it too.

And sitting there on a sunlit hill with dust on our shoes and juice in the basket and love in my lungs, i knew...

He did.

[eulaab]

Forestkeeper’s Bond: Unforgotten Garden (Sylvaris vol. 3)

Ellie had always found peace in the forest, where her garden bloomed with the dreams she’d held since childhood — the flowers, herbs, and trees she had once imagined into life. It was her sanctuary, a place where time moved gently and the world softened. But recently, something felt off. The plants, once vibrant under her care, had started to struggle. Their leaves drooped, the colors dulled, and no matter what she did, nothing seemed to bring them back to life.

Even the wind had changed. It still felt... alive. Restless. It whispered in a way that sent shivers through her, as if it carried voices she hadn’t heard in years. Familiar voices.

Her brothers.

Souta and Kaito.

Though they were gone like years ago, Ellie sounded a bit lost because she thought her yearning feeling getting out of hand. Their laughter, their warmth — it came to her on the breeze. Her heart ached with the longing to see them again, to feel that presence that once made her world whole. The garden’s fading, the wind’s sudden voice — none of it made sense. But the feeling somehow grew stronger.

Despite of that, the wind made her thinking what's so wrong with her dull garden so she sat beneath the old tree, her back pressed to the worn bark, where the grooves had always curved to fit her spine just so. The sunlight slipped through the branches, soft and golden, brushing against her skin like memory. The garden lay still around her, caught in that hush between morning and noon. She let out a quiet breath and closed her eyes — just for a moment, not to sleep, only to rest.

A tap landed gently on her shoulder.

“Aeri,” a voice chimed, light and teasing, her childhood name. “We’re supposed to do the garden, did you fall asleep?”

She opened her eyes.

There stood Kaito, older than he had been the last time she saw him — taller now, broader in the shoulders, but with that same crooked grin that always pulled laughter from her chest. His hands were smudged with dirt, a flower tucked behind his ear.

“You always wanted to do this together,” he added, eyes glinting with boyish mischief.

Before she could respond, another figure stepped into view.

Souta.

He looked older too, though the calm in his expression hadn’t changed. He knelt beside her, placing a small wooden basket full of cuttings and seeds between them. “Don’t mind Kaito,” he said gently, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You know how he gets. But he’s right. We promised, didn’t we?”

Ellie blinked, her throat catching on something too soft to name. It should’ve felt like a dream — some distant, imagined scene stirred up from longing — but it didn’t. It felt real. Solid. Right.

They worked in silence and laughter, falling into a rhythm only siblings could know. Ellie’s heart soaked in every second, like the soil drank the sun. And then—

“Lunch is ready!” a familiar voice rang out from the edge of the garden.

She turned.

Their mother stood just beyond the tall grass, her hands cupped around her mouth, eyes warm with amusement. Behind her, their father stood quietly, arms crossed, a knowing smile resting on his face.

Kaito let out a dramatic groan. “Already? But I was just about to revolutionize this flowerbed!”

Souta chuckled under his breath, brushing the dirt from his palms. “You say that every time.”

Ellie rose to her feet slowly, her fingers tingling from the soil, from the stillness, from the joy of it all — and for a moment, time bent gently around her.

This was hers.

Before they could go inside at their mother’s call, Souta and Kaito turned to her. Their eyes softened as they looked at her before pulling her into their arms. And for the first time in years, she let herself sink into their warmth.

Souta held her protectively. “It’s not your fault, will never be your fault, Aeri.” He said, his voice gentle and firm. “We’re happy we could save you, there's no need to carry the weight alone anymore.”

Kaito took her hand and squeezed it. “We will always be your coolest knight. You have to be happy.” But his voice suddenly broke, as though swallowed by the wind. His lips moved, but no sound followed.

“Kai?” she asked, stepping toward him. But he only smiled faintly now, that quiet warning left hanging in the air like a half-finished song.

She woke from the dream sobbing — not from pain, but from something finally lifted. The weight she had carried for so long had softened. The tears weren’t heavy; they were healing. Outside, the wind stirred through the garden — gentler now, like a quiet promise. She felt it: her brothers were still with her.

Then the garden stirred.

Ellie blinked as the wilted flowers lifted their heads, vines stretching toward the sky. Leaves brightened, buds bloomed. The garden breathed again, as if awakened by her release. She dropped to her knees, fingers brushing petals warm with life. The love she’d longed for had never truly left — it had just been waiting, buried beneath sorrow and silence. The wind passed through again, carrying with it the softest whisper. And for a fleeting second, Ellie heard them —Souta and Kaito— laughing, calling, loving.

They were here.

And in this garden, she was never alone again.

[eulaab]

The Path Ahead: Petaled Memory (ofNE vol. 2)

The dream clung to me like cobweb silk — fine, almost weightless, yet impossible to shake. I woke this morning, gasping for another supply of oxygen heavily as if i just had forgotten how to breathe. My sheets were tangled, half-kicked to the floor. The ceiling above me was blank, yet it held the shape of something — a memory, or a warning — that refused to be named

Today was a free day. The calendar said so in small, innocent print, as if that meant anything anymore.

In the dorms, holidays are just regular days stripped of their obligations. The halls are quieter, the windows open wider. The light moves slower, like it’s hesitant to commit. So, i think it'd be a good ordinary free day if i just feed every cat i met. A silly vow — grounding, harmless, and in its own small way, defiant.

But the dream keeps walking ahead of me, a few paces out of reach.

It wasn’t a dream that unraveled like stories do — no plot, no faces i could name. Just a strange crowd, staring at the ceiling, unmoving. The kind of silence that isn't peaceful, but paralyzing. The kind that presses against your skin and whispers that something is deeply, terribly wrong.

I couldn’t say what had been lost in that dream, or who. Only that something vital had been taken — and that absence was the loudest thing of all.

The school had looked the same in the dream. The same stones, the same arches, even the familiar scratch of the clock’s hand sweeping past the hour.

But it had no pulse.

Prim — or Briar, or whatever truth she’s hiding behind that frost-bitten voice — she’d been the crack in the pattern. The first lie wearing a familiar face.

And couldn't stop thinking about the dream, "what if it wasn't a dream but a war... —warning? Or probably a message?"

I didn’t tell anyone, of course. Not about the dream. Not about the quiet panic that now laces everything familiar. I keep it stitched inside, the way people tuck letters into drawers they’re too afraid to read again.

Met the furries i have been fed for a few days, they run once they heard their favorite sound — foods. Today, the orange one by the window didn’t complain. Just watched me — slow-blinking, ancient — as if i’d finally begun asking the right question. He pressed his head into my palm once and then vanished into shadow like he’d never been there.

I lingered.

The world feels… a bit off like it's altered. Like it’s holding its breath. The air tastes too clean, the corners of rooms too sharp. I startle at voices i should recognize, and flinch at footsteps i used to find comforting. As if something beneath the surface has shifted — just slightly — and i’m the only one who noticed the seams splitting.

The dream wants something. Not just to haunt. To reveal.

It left behind a word, i think. Just one. Whispered through silence, written between walls, pulsing behind eyes that don't quite meet mine anymore.

Remember? Memories?

Am i supposed to rememeber something? Memories i had forgotten?

[eulaab]

Fractured Fate: Flickering Name (ofNE vol. 1)

The day was bright, and the exam proceeded as usual. It was quiet, and everyone was busy with their own answers. Ellie had felt something was wrong with her stomach even before entering the classroom — she couldn't remember eating anything stale or whether she had forgotten  drinking a milk again this morning — she was sweating coldly, her hands gripping the skirt she was wearing and it stopped her within the first fifteen minutes of the exam. After explaining her situation and getting permission, Ellie left the classroom, intending to find Prim to ask where she could get some medicine before returning to the dorm.

However, even before her steps could take her to the room, her vision blurred for a moment, and a sharp cramp made her stop mid-step, hand clutching her side. The hallway stretched before her — quiet, echoing only with the faint ticking of the wall clock and the occasional cough from a nearby classroom. Ellie leaned against the cool stone wall, steadying her breath.

She met Prim halfway down the corridor,

at first, Ellie felt a wave of relief — the familiar swish of Prim’s robes, the confident stride, but this time, her smile was nowhere to be found — no trace of a flower just beginning to bloom. Her eyes, usually so warm and full of knowing mischief, were unreadable. Distant and cold. Her shoulders stiff, as though carrying a weight Ellie couldn’t see. Something about her felt… a bit off. Tired, she thought, silencing the voices in her head.

“Prim,” Ellie called out, softly.

Prim stopped but didn’t smile. Her gaze met Ellie’s, sharp and hollow, and her voice came out cool — almost clipped.

“You shouldn’t be walking around like this,” the woman said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried no concern — just observation.

Ellie blinked. “I was looking for you. My stomach hurts, and i thought you’d know where the medicine is. Just like that day you showed me around the school for the first time, you said it was in that drawer—”

The woman tilted her head slightly. “I told you that, yes. But you must be confusing me with someone else.”

Ellie frowned. “Prim…”

“I’m not Prim,” she said evenly. “I’m Briar if you forgot.”

The silence between them stretched, thick and surreal.

“What do you mean?” Ellie’s voice faltered. “Of course you’re Prim. You introduced yourself as Prim and you have dragon.”

Briar’s expression didn’t change. “I’ve never answered to that name. And if someone named Prim told you where the medicine was… maybe you should ask who she really was.”

A chill crept up Ellie’s spine.

“But you look like her. You even speak like her.”

“No,” Briar said, taking a step closer. “I look like me. It’s not my fault if you remember someone else’s kindness and painted it on my face.”

Ellie stared, the ache in her stomach nearly forgotten. “But — how is that even—”

Prim's, or now Briar’s voice cut through the haze like a blade.

“So, do you want the medicine or not? I have so much work to do, and you need to rest after — look at that cold sweat.”

Ellie flinched at the sudden sharpness. The tone was nothing like Prim’s gentle nudges or half-teasing concern. This was clinical, impatient, as though tending to her was more obligation than care.

“I… yeah,” Ellie murmured, her voice small. “Sorry.”

Briar didn’t reply. She turned briskly on her heel and started walking, expecting Ellie to follow without another word. Her strides were quick, efficient — too fast for Ellie’s aching body to match comfortably. Still, she followed, one hand pressed lightly against her side.

They turned a corner, the stone walls colder here, dimmer, like they hadn’t been touched by sunlight in days.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Ellie tried again, voice a little steadier this time. “It’s just... you look and sound exactly like her...”

Briar didn’t stop walking. “I don't know who she is but okay.”

It wasn’t the answer Ellie expected. Something about it felt rehearsed.

They arrived at a infirmary where a medium-sized drawer stood, tucked beside an old tapestry. Briar opened the drawer with practiced ease, pulled out a small glass vial, and handed it over without looking her in the eye.

“Drink half now. The rest before bed,” she said flatly.

Ellie took the vial, fingers brushing Briar’s for the briefest second. Cold.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Briar finally looked at her, but the expression wasn’t relief or recognition — it was something unreadable, a puzzle with the wrong pieces. “Don’t get used to it.”

Then she turned and walked away, robes swaying sharply behind her.

Ellie stood there for a moment, the vial in her hand, heart pounding with something she couldn’t name. Not fear. That wasn’t how Prim talked. That wasn’t how she looked at her.

So who—or what—had she just spoken to?

[eulaab]

The Trial of the Whispering Grove: A Descent into Guilt (Sylvaris vol. 2)

Ellie, now a Bloomtender of the Verdant Grove, stood in the heart of Sylvaris, her new home. The realm pulsed with life — trees glowing with an otherworldly light, flowers humming softly, and a sky painted with colors that shimmered like a dream. The magic of the forest thrummed in her veins, a constant reminder of the oath she had taken. But the forest had spoken: her initiation was incomplete. A sacred trial awaited her, a test to prove her worth as a Bloomtender. The path was uncertain, but she knew the forest never gave trials without purpose. She stepped forward, her bare feet sinking into the mossy earth, and let the land guide her.

The forest led her to a clearing where the air felt thick with an unspoken weight. At its center stood an ancient tree, its gnarled trunk wide and imposing, its branches stretching upward like a cathedral of leaves. The tree’s roots glowed with a faint green light, and Ellie felt a pull deep in her chest, as if the tree was whispering her name. The wind stirred, carrying the scent of rain and earth, and the leaves rustled with a message: ‘Prove yourself, Bloomtender. Face the trial of the Whispering Grove.’

The trial began with a sudden shift in the air. The clearing darkened, the vibrant colors of Sylvaris fading into a cold, muted gray. The ancient tree’s roots writhed, rising from the ground like living tendrils, and the earth beneath Ellie’s feet trembled. A voice — not heard, but felt — echoed through her mind: ‘To nurture life, you must first face death. To heal, you must first break. What are you willing to lose, Ellie?’

Before she could answer, the roots surged toward her, wrapping around her ankles with a bruising grip. She gasped, clawing at the soil as they pulled her down into the earth. The world above vanished, and she was dragged into darkness, the air growing colder with every passing second. The scent of blood filled her nostrils — a visceral memory of the car crash that had stolen her brothers. The forest was unearthing her deepest pain, forcing her to confront the grief she had buried for years.

She landed in a cavern beneath the tree, its walls lined with glowing fungi that cast a sickly light. The roots released her, and she stumbled to her feet, her chest tight with panic. Before her lay a pool of water, its surface as still as a mirror, reflecting not her face but the faces of her parents. Their expressions were cold, their eyes piercing with accusation. Their voices cut through the silence, sharp and unrelenting: ‘Why did you survive, Ellie? Why did our boys have to die? You were supposed to protect them. You failed us.’

Ellie’s knees buckled, her breath hitching as their words sliced into her. She had spent years running from this guilt, hiding in the mountains to escape the weight of their loss. But now, her parents’ voices echoed the thoughts she had never dared to speak aloud. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “I didn’t mean to… i didn’t know…” But her words were swallowed by the cavern’s oppressive silence.

The pool of water began to ripple, its surface churning violently. Before Ellie could react, the water surged upward, tendrils of liquid wrapping around her like icy hands. She screamed as the pool swallowed her whole, pulling her under its surface. She thrashed, her lungs burning as she was submerged in a flood of memories — memories of her brothers that she couldn’t fully grasp. Fragmented images flashed before her eyes: their laughter as they played in the backyard, the warmth of their hugs, the way they’d looked at her with trust. But the memories were incomplete, distorted by time and trauma. She couldn’t remember their voices, the exact shade of their eyes, the last words they’d said to her before the crash. The realization hit her like a tidal wave: she was losing them all over again.

The water pressed in on her, filling her lungs with the metallic taste of blood and the bitter sting of guilt. She saw the crash in vivid detail — the hum of the car, Tokyo’s skyline blurring past, then the screeching tires, the blinding headlights, the deafening impact. Butterflies and swirling leaves drifted through the chaos, a surreal contrast to the horror, but they couldn’t save her from the memory of her brothers’ lifeless bodies beside her. She had survived, but at what cost? The guilt was suffocating, dragging her deeper into the pool’s depths. ‘You don’t deserve to be here’ — her parents’ voices hissed, their words echoing in the water. ‘You let them die. You’ll let the forest die too.’

Ellie’s vision blurred, her strength fading as the memories drowned her. She was sinking, her body heavy with the weight of her failures. But then, a faint pulse of warmth broke through the cold — a whisper from the forest. The fungi on the cavern walls pulsed with light, and the air hummed with a gentle, grounding energy. ‘Feel the land, Bloomtender. Let it guide you.’ The voice of Sylvaris Forest was soft but insistent, a lifeline in the darkness.

She reached for that warmth, her fingers trembling as she clung to the forest’s presence. She felt the heartbeat of Sylvaris, the life that flowed through every root and leaf. She felt the ancient tree above, its roots a symbol of resilience. And she felt her own connection to nature, the bond that had always been her refuge. The forest was reminding her of who she was — not a failure, but a Bloomtender, chosen to nurture and protect.

With a surge of determination, Ellie kicked against the water, fighting her way to the surface. The memories still clawed at her, but she refused to let them win. She broke through the pool’s surface, gasping for air, and the water released her, receding back into stillness. She collapsed onto the cavern floor, her body trembling, her face streaked with tears. The faces of her parents still lingered in the pool, but their expressions had softened, their voices quieter now — “We loved you, Ellie. We still do. But you have to let us go.”

Ellie’s chest heaved as she sobbed, the weight of her guilt finally spilling out. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I couldn’t save them. But i can save this grove. I can honor them by living — by protecting what they loved.” As she spoke, the vines along the cavern walls began to move, wrapping around the pool and sealing it shut. The faces of her parents faded, their voices replaced by a gentle whisper, ‘We’re proud of you, Ellie. Be free.’

The cavern brightened, and the roots of the ancient tree lifted Ellie back to the surface. The clearing was vibrant once more, the colors of Sylvaris more radiant than ever. The ancient tree’s branches swayed, and the wind carried a new message: ‘You have faced death and emerged whole. You have healed by breaking. You are worthy, Bloomtender.’

She fell to her knees, her body shaking with the aftershocks of the trial. The guilt that had drowned her for years had finally been released, leaving her raw but lighter. She felt the magic of Sylvaris flow through her, stronger than ever, and she knew she had grown from this journey. The forest had forced her to confront her deepest pain, but it had also guided her, showing her that she was more than her failures.

As she stood, the forest around her shimmered with a new energy. The ground beneath her feet began to glow, and from the mossy earth, four-leaf clovers sprouted in abundance, their delicate green leaves unfurling as far as the eye could see. They filled the clearing, a sea of emerald hope, each clover a symbol of the luck and renewal Ellie had earned through her trial. The forest was celebrating her triumph, blessing her with a sign of the life she was now tasked to nurture. Ellie wiped her tears, a shaky smile breaking through her grief. She was home, and she was ready to take her place among the chosen.

{...} crafted March 29th, 2025 by Eula.

[eulaab]

Whispers of a Moonleaf (Sylvaris vol. 1)

Ellie always found solace in the mountains, returning to familiar trails when life felt overwhelming. Hiking had always been her remedy. But today feels different—a lingering dream tugs at her mind. A memory resurfaces. The hum of the car, Tokyo’s skyline, then—screeching tires, flashing headlights, a deafening crash. When the silence fell, all she saw were butterflies and swirling leaves drifting through the metallic scent of blood, as if they had healed her before a heavy drowsiness pulled her into darkness.

After years of reliving the same dream, she finally understood — that was the day she realized there's something more within her. The memory of losing her beloved brothers weighed heavy on her heart, but nature’s embrace had been her refuge ever since.

The afternoon sun cast golden streaks through the trees as she climbed, but something about the air felt different today — charged, expectant. The leaves rustled with a whisper she almost understood, and the wind carried a scent of earth and rain, though no storm was near.

Halfway up the trail, a sudden weight landed atop her head. She startles as a squirrel clambers down her shoulder, “You almost make my heart fall!” Her laughs fill the forest as she sees its eyes fixed on hers with an uncanny intelligence. It wants her to follow. This isn’t unusual for Ellie, who has always shared an unspoken connection with nature. But when a gentle twirl of leaves stirs at her feet —power not her own— hesitation grips her. Something, or someone, is speaking her language in a way she’s never encountered before.

Curious, Ellie trailed behind the creature as it wove effortlessly through the forest, the world around them shifting in subtle ways. Leaves played at her feet, vines seemed to part in silent invitation, and flowers bloomed in their wake. With each step, the air thickened with something ancient and knowing, guiding her deeper into the unknown until, at last, they arrived before the mouth of a cave. It was neither dark nor foreboding, but waiting, as if it had always been meant for her to find.

At its face, carved into the stone, a glowing symbol pulsed with quiet power; a full moon encircled by shifting lunar phases, as if frozen in motion. The very air around it seemed alive, humming with a presence she could feel beneath her skin. Then, the wind stirred, rushing past her like a whispered secret. And beneath her fingertips, the carving spoke — not in words, but in a language she had always understood. It was an oath, a choice, an unbroken promise woven into the heart of the forest itself.

She didn’t hesitate. She spoke, sealing the vow with her own soul, “I, Eulalie Aeri, Bloomtender of the Verdant Grove of Sylvaris, stand before the sacred flame. With nature as my witness and fate as my guide, I release my past and embrace my future. As the night sky holds the stars, so too does Sylvaris hold my soul. I take my place among the chosen.” The world trembled in response. Light enveloped her, bending the air like ripples on water. The cave dissolved into something new, revealing a realm beyond anything she had ever known. A land where magic wove through every leaf, where nature itself breathed. It was more than a place — it was a home she had never known she was missing.

ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸...

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ

[eulaab]

𝑬𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑨𝒆𝒓𝒊 𝑩𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒆.

AU: Model trapped in Superhuman body.

Is a quiet yet lively spirit, a Swedes-Japanese lady who was born to a Swedes father and a Japanese mother. Life took a fateful turn one tragic day back when she was six years old; leaving her with a mysterious, flower-strewn path all her own. She was the youngest who unfortunately became the only child of the family overnight. Leaving all her childhood memories in Japan, she moved to New Zealand once she turned seven ― redoing all the memories she had lost to a new one.

Residing with a family who has experienced the unimaginable loss of their beloved child, Eula gracefully navigates through life's challenges with poise and resilience. Though often left alone in her family’s large-empty house, she develops a keen sensitivity to nature, finding that the flowers seem to lean her way, as though they share in her secrets. Despite lacking affection and attention from her parents, Eula blossoms into a compassionate individual with a profound empathy for all living beings. Raised without a clear understanding of the concept of "home," she dedicates her time to pursuing academic excellence and spreading love and kindness she has within her to those in nursing homes and shelters.

Drawn with specific bond with nature, she loves walking and having moments in nearest park wherever she is. Fly herself all the way to South Korea to continue her study learning about her favorite stuff (earth and its contents), she also shoots her luck by joining model agency after years of weighing up the compliments she always get.

Never did her parents speak of her twin brother after the accident, creating a gaping void in her heart that often brought tears to her eyes in longing for the connection she believed she once held dearly. Furthermore, her story unfolds quietly yet purposefully, as she embraces a gift she may never fully explain yet can hardly deny—a connection to nature that seems to bloom with her every step.

Name: Eulalie Aeri Bielke

Nickname(s): Eula, Yura, Aeri, Ellie, Lillie.

Birthdate: August 31th 2OO4

Birthplace: Tokyo, Japan.

Nationality: Swedes-Japanese

MBTI: INTP

Currently Stay: Seoul, South Korea.

Occupations: College Student (Environmental Science), Freelance Model, Volunteer.

[eulaab]

Proem.

Here, I, the writer of this account kindly inform you that this account was strictly crafted for roleplaying and entertainment purposes only. This account is running by a fan and safe for all ages so any kind of sexual violence directed to Jang Wonyoung will immediately be blocked. If the fan strays from the intended purpose of this account, please offer constructive criticism kindly and respectfully via direct message. The fan acknowledges full responsibility for any inconveniences that may arise. Let's show mutual respect, shall we?

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Alongside this, nothing posted in this account affiliated with Jang Wonyoung, IVE, Starship Entertainment, nor all the brands she's working with. Another character that has been carefully made by writer with specific intention: fostering creativity, and this imaginative entity plays a vital role in enriching artistic expression, allowing depth of exploration into the human experience and emotions with each story written.

The writer does not have specific criteria for friendship, but it is appreciated if individuals do not constantly demand the writer's presence as we all have our own lives to lead and let's romanticize respecting each other's time. Writer is a novice, and is still learning proper writing procedures. Additionally, English is not her native language so please be understanding of any grammatical errors.

Writer loves to learn new thing so she is open with any casual plot and light to heavy discussion, feel free to hit her direct message with a gentle knock!

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genuinely with love,

@ivewuonyo