Legend LXXV – The Renaissance of Eldoria

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but as a woman of flesh, blood, and untamed power. Her name was lost, but her title remained: The Renaissance of Eldoria. One never encounters her by chance. Those who see her have been summoned—by dreams that rise from the earth like glowing threads, or by a whisper in the leaves that knows their name. When she reappeared after centuries of silence, the roots of the world trembled, and the animals held their breath. For she did not return to bless, but to test. Clad in deep green, which clings to her like a part of the forest itself, she carries a staff, at the tip of which burns a sphere like a trapped star. The flames around her feet are not ones that destroy. They purify. All that passes through them is freed from the ancient lies. The peoples who once promised to protect Eldoria had forgotten the sacred fire—but she never forgets. Her eyes speak of a time when the forests sang and the mountains answered, and in every glance lies the question: Will you betray me again? It is said that the apple at her belt is not merely a fruit. It bears the memory of the forest, the world's first taste, when nature was still young. Whoever tastes it hears the language of the earth. Yet no one has dared to touch the fruit—for the guardian wears it like a destiny meant for only one. When she first walked across the old clearings again, the ground opened beneath her feet, and fireflies emerged from long, buried roots like falling stars. The creatures came from the depths of the thicket, not out of curiosity, but out of awe. Even the flames that followed her burned with obedience, casting no shadows—as if celebrating her return. The people, however, whom the jungle had once banished, felt fear. They remembered the time when Eldoria passed judgment on those who plundered, desecrated sacred springs, or silenced the voices of the oldest trees. It was said that the Renaissance would decide whether the world deserved a second chance. And this time, it would not ask. It would demand. But then an old hunter told of a miracle. He spoke of seeing the Guardian on the shore of a hidden lake, shimmering with colors no human eye has ever named. She dipped her hand into the water, and wherever her fingers touched the surface, the light of the world grew brighter—as if she had touched the moon itself. The hunter had believed Eldoria was returning for revenge.