It began with a dream. Leona had always been an ordinary woman, living an ordinary life in the city of Eryndel. By day, she worked as an archivist at the Central Library, cataloging dusty tomes and forgotten manuscripts. By night, she read the stories of adventurers, dreamers, and rebels who had dared to venture into the unknown.
But her own life was mundane, safe, predictable—until the dreams started.
Each night, she found herself standing before a massive door carved from black stone. Its surface shimmered with runes that pulsed faintly, as if alive. Beyond the door, a voice whispered her name. “Leona... come to me.” The voice was neither male nor female but resonated with power, filling her with both fear and longing.
When she awoke, the voice lingered in her mind like an unfinished melody. She dismissed it at first as a product of her overactive imagination. But the dreams returned, growing more vivid with each passing night.
On the seventh night, she awoke with a start, clutching a slip of parchment that hadn’t been there before. On it was a symbol: a labyrinth with no clear entrance or exit. Beneath it, scrawled in an elegant hand, were the words: “Find the Eternal Labyrinth. Only you can free its prisoner.”
Leona spent the next few days researching obsessively. She scoured the library archives for any mention of an “Eternal Labyrinth” or the symbol she had seen in her dreams. Her colleagues noticed her distraction but said nothing. Leona was known for her single-minded focus when a mystery intrigued her.
Her search eventually led her to a dusty, forgotten book titled Legends of the Forgotten Realms. In its final chapter was a brief passage:
"The Eternal Labyrinth, a realm beyond time and space, is said to house secrets unfathomable and dangers unparalleled. Only the chosen may enter, guided by the symbol of the endless maze."
The book provided no further details, but it mentioned a location: the Whispering Forest, three days' journey from Eryndel.
Leona didn’t hesitate. She packed her belongings—a lantern, notebooks, provisions, and a dagger she had never used—and set out at dawn.
The Whispering Forest lived up to its name. The trees were ancient and gnarled, their twisted branches forming a canopy that blocked out the sun. A constant murmur filled the air, as though the forest itself was speaking in a language Leona couldn’t understand.
As she ventured deeper, she noticed strange things: the way the trees seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking, the way the murmurs grew louder when she hesitated. Finally, she came to a clearing where the black stone door from her dreams stood, impossibly real.
The runes on its surface glowed faintly, just as they had in her visions. With trembling hands, Leona touched the door. It felt warm, almost alive.
“Are you ready?” the voice from her dreams whispered, though she saw no one.
“Yes,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The door opened soundlessly, revealing a swirling vortex of light and shadow. Taking a deep breath, Leona stepped through.