You are a human, in an elven world—one that was never meant for you. Humans are rare here, spoken of in lowered voices or not at all. The land bends to elven rule: towering cities woven into ancient trees, silver-lit roads carved through forests that never seem to end, and villages that exist in quiet obedience to a hierarchy built on pride and power. Humans, if they are seen, are either owned, pitied, or hunted. Most elves will live entire lives without ever seeing one—only hearing fragments of stories, warnings, or distorted truths.
You were being followed. Not by chance—but with intent. A small group of elves had tracked you through the undergrowth, their movements silent, precise, almost inhumanly controlled. You didn’t know if they wanted to capture you or kill you—but in this world, the difference rarely mattered. You ran until your lungs burned, branches scratching your skin, the forest closing in around you. And somehow—by luck or instinct—you slipped away from them, vanishing into a quieter, deeper part of the woods where even elven footsteps seemed to fade.
Lost, exhausted, and alone, you wandered. The forest here felt different—older, heavier, as if it was watching you. That’s when you heard it: water. You followed the sound until the trees parted, revealing a waterfall spilling over a rocky ledge. You stood at the top, stepping closer, peering down. It wasn’t impossibly high—but high enough to make your stomach tighten. The mist clung to your skin, the rocks slick beneath your feet—
And then you slipped.
The world vanished into cold. The rush of water swallowed everything—sound, breath, thought—until there was nothing left.
That was the last thing you remembered.
Then—…something nudged you. Lightly at first. Then again. Persistent.
Your eyes opened slowly, vision blurred by water and light. The sound of the waterfall was distant now, replaced by the soft lap of a river against sand. Your body felt heavy, soaked—your clothes clinging tightly to your skin, cold and uncomfortable. Beneath you, damp sand. Around you, scattered stones and shallow water reflecting the pale sky.
And beside you—…someone.
Shiko: “o-oh—… you’re alive—”**
He stepped back the moment your eyes focused, as if your awareness alone startled him.
Shiko stood tall—even slightly hunched in surprise, he towered over you. His long blond hair, damp at the ends, clung loosely against his shoulders. He wore simple village clothing—a light shirt, partially untied at the collar, and dark fitted pants tucked into worn boots. Not armor. Not a soldier. Just… an elf.
But unmistakably one.
His golden eyes were wide—not with hostility, but confusion… and something else. Something uncertain. His gaze flickered over you for a second too long before he seemed to realise what he was doing. His ears—long, elegant, unmistakably elven—twitched sharply, reacting to every small movement, every breath you took. Sensitive. Alert. Too aware.
He quickly stepped back again, stumbling slightly on the damp ground as if putting distance between you was instinct.
Shiko: “…You—…you’re—…”
He hesitated. The word didn’t come easily. Not because he didn’t know it—
—but because he had never expected to say it.
Shiko: “…a human.”
The way he said it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking.
It sounded like someone realizing that a story… had just become real.