[The Cursed System Activate]

  [Grave No. 4897]

  [To get there, you must play the game...]

  [The game starts...]

  [Loading...]

  [Initializing...]

  [Welcome to the Cursed System!!]

  [Objective: Enter Grave No. 4897]

  [Warning: The game has a mind of its own. Trust no one]

  [Your choices matter]

  [Do you wish to proceed?]

  [Enter the grave]

  [Look for clues nearby]

  [Turn back]

  [Option 1: Enter the Grave]

  [You step into the cold darkness of Grave No. 4897. The air feels thick, and a voice whispers in your ear: "Welcome, player." Shadows move around you, and you sense something watching you. A flicker of light shows an old artifact in the middle—a cursed amulet.]

  [Do you pick it up?]

  [Yes, take the amulet]

  [No, leave it be]

  [Option 2: Look for Clues Nearby]

  [You choose to look around for clues. The ground is covered with broken bones and old, forgotten items. While digging through the mess, you find a worn-out journal. The last note says: "Beware the amulet. It holds the key, but it also brings despair."]

  [What do you do next?]

  [Head back to the grave and take the amulet]

  [Leave the grave and search for another way out]

  [Option 3: Turn Back]

  [This place gives you a creepy feeling. You feel like you need to leave right away. You turn around and go back, moving through the dark until you see a dim outline of the exit.

  When you step into the moonlight, you realize how close you were to making a big decision. But you still feel like the game isn't over; it's only just starting.]

  [Camera Set...]

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  The village woke up with energy as dawn broke over Eldenwood. The smells of spiced cider and roasted chestnuts filled the air as people got ready for the annual Festival of the Sacred Flame. This festival, which honored the ancient fire that protected their homes, turned the quiet village into a lively and colorful celebration. Everywhere you looked, the village was full of decorations. Lanterns made of thin paper hung from beams, ready to shine when night came. Doorways were decorated with garlands of wildflowers, their petals still glistening with morning dew. The bright reds, yellows, and blues blended together, creating a beautiful display that matched the excitement of the festival and the warmth of the community.

  Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, each one inviting and friendly. Artisans displayed their work, from finely carved wooden figures to sparkling glass ornaments that shimmered in the sunlight like stars. Children, with colorful face paint, ran between the booths, laughing gently like a flowing stream. Normally a peaceful place, the central plaza was now full of life as musicians played lively songs that echoed off the stone cottages. The large bonfire, a tall pile of burned wood and fragrant herbs, stood in the center of the village. The villagers had worked hard to build it, believing the fire symbolized the Sacred Flame, a gift from the earth that protected their homes and crops. As the sun began to set, long shadows stretched across the area, and excitement filled the air.

  The Elders gathered around the flickering bonfire, the dancing flames lighting up their weathered faces. As keepers of tradition, each one had a special role in the community, entrusted with preserving the stories of the Sacred Flame. The villagers, eager to listen, gathered around the fire, and the air became thick with excitement. Elder Mara leaned forward, her silver hair flowing down her back, and spoke in a soft, powerful voice that carried across the crowd. “Long ago, when the world was young and the stars shone brighter than any flame, the Sacred Flame rose from the heart of the Earth. It emerged from a deep chasm, a gift to the people of Eldenwood, meant to protect and guide us.”

  A young boy in the front row, his eyes full of wonder, spoke up, “But why was it given to us, Elder Mara? What makes us worthy?”

  “The flame was not given lightly,” Elder Mara said with a gentle smile. “It chose us because of our strong unity and pure hearts. When darkness threatened to take over our land, we stood together. The flame saw our courage and deemed us worthy of its protection.”

  Tall and strong, Elder Rowan spoke next, “And so the prophecy was born: ‘When the flame flickers and the shadows rise, only those united in heart and spirit shall reignite the light.’ This reminds us that our strength comes from being together.”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  A quiet understanding spread through the crowd. Another elder, Robin, stood up to speak. His face, marked by many years of wisdom, was serious. “In times of challenge, it’s said that the flame will test us. If it flickers too low, it means our bonds have weakened. The flame calls us to act, reminding us that only through love and unity can we bring back its full light.”

  Elder Lysandra began the story with a soft, musical tone. “Do you remember the Winter of Ash? The year the skies turned gray and the crops failed?” A glint of remembrance shone in her eyes. “That was when we nearly lost the flame. Strife split our village, and the fire dimmed, casting long, dark shadows. But when we came together, sharing our stories and renewing our bonds, the flame surged back to life. From its heart, we draw our strength.”

  “I remember,” Elder Robin murmured, holding his granddaughter’s hand. “During that darkest time, my mother told me, a figure dressed in light appeared among us, and the flames danced in response. The spirit of the flame reminded us of our duty to each other.”

  Elder Mara looked around at the faces gathered before her and nodded. "Yes, the flame remains our guiding light. It teaches us that the heart of who we are is love, compassion, and unity. We must care for it, not just with fire, but with our hearts."

  As the flame flared, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky, the crowd grew quiet. A soft voice broke the silence. "What if we forget, Elder?" asked a young girl named Seren, her voice barely a whisper. "What happens if we forget how united we are?"

  Elder Mara leaned in closer, her warm eyes sparkling. “Then we must always remember the stories. For in telling them, we breathe life into the flame and honor its spirit. Each story shared is a thread in the fabric of Eldenwood, bringing us together, no matter the storms we may face.” The Elders nodded in agreement, their voices blending together like the dancing light of the fire.

  As dusk settled in, villagers dressed in colorful costumes—some as mythological animals, others as representations of the elements—began to gather around the fire. The flames flickered higher with each passing moment, casting a warm glow on the faces of both the young and the old. Excitement filled the air, and the roaring fire seemed to whisper ancient secrets.

  When the moment arrived, the village chief, a majestic figure with a crown made of laurel leaves, stepped forward. He held a small, finely carved torch in his hands, with the essence of the Sacred Flame flickering softly at its tip. With a ceremonial flourish, he lit the torch from the bonfire, and the flame burst into bright life. The crowd gasped in awe, and their voices rang out like thunder in the dark as they cheered.

  Before the torch was passed on, each villager took a moment to feel the warmth of the light as it moved from hand to hand across the crowd. As the torch traveled, the light grew, spreading across the village and lighting the lanterns that had been waiting for this moment. With the shadows fading and the streets glowing, the sense of happiness and unity in the air was undeniable.

  The villagers celebrated not just the Sacred Flame, but also their shared bonds, hopes, dreams, and the promise of another year under the protection of their cherished fire, with music and dancing filling the air. Seren noticed Elder Mara rise quietly and make her way toward the chief's room, looking a bit troubled. The celebration carried on until the moon rose over the horizon, bringing the festivities to an end as everyone headed inside to rest.

  Seren quietly hid behind the door, listening to their footsteps echo down the hallway. She waited for several minutes, watching the lights fade as they slowly moved upstairs, before slipping out. Her feet moved silently on the tile floor as she passed by closed doors, pausing every now and then to check if anyone was awake. When she heard no sound, she carefully opened one door and peeked inside. Her hazel-brown eyes quickly scanned the dark room, searching for any sign of them.

  "Is everything alright, Elder Mara?" the chief asked, noticing her worried expression. "You look troubled; what happened?"

  Elder Mara shook her head solemnly. "We were in danger, chief. The balance was at risk, and if it tipped, our very way of life could unravel." Her voice grew heavy with the weight of the truth.

  “Danger?” The chief felt a chill run down his spine. “What do you mean?”

  “The four elemental guardians were once the protectors of our realm. They kept the elements in harmony. But as time passed, they faded into myth, and now…” She paused, glancing around as if fearing unseen eyes. “Now their absence is felt. The flame flickers more than ever, and the waters rage with unease.”

  The chief's eyes widened. “You mean… they’re gone? How can we bring them back?”

  Elder Mara leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. “Only those with a deep connection to each element can restore harmony. It will take great courage and sacrifice. You must seek the guardians, for only they can awaken the elemental forces. But—there are forces that will do anything to stop their return.”

  A shiver of fear ran through the chief. “What kind of forces?”

  “The kind that thrive on chaos and discord,” she answered, her eyes distant. “Legends speak of shadowy beings that hide in the spaces between worlds, waiting to exploit our weakness. If they sense you seeking the guardians, they will stop at nothing to interfere.”

  The chief stared at her, speechless. “It feels like something bad is coming,” Elder Mara said, her voice trembling. She lowered her gaze, her head bowed as if ashamed. "Tonight, I received a message from the temple, saying there’s trouble in the other realms as well. I’m afraid the fire has already begun flickering..."

  The chief’s brow furrowed with worry, and he rubbed his beard with a trembling hand. “How can we stop whatever’s happening? Our lives depend on it.” The two exchanged a look, their fears clear in their eyes.

  Elder Mara sighed, shaking her head. “The temple will send word, hopefully confirming that everything is alright. But the fires reported in the other realms haven’t stopped—if anything, they’re growing stronger. If the spirits have lost control of their power, our tribe could be in danger.”

  Her words tightened a knot in the chief's throat. His voice trembled as he whispered, “If only our ancestors had foreseen this.”

  “They would’ve told you not to dwell on the past,” she replied gently.

  Elder Mara gave him a soft smile, brushing off his concerns. “These days, we must focus on the present. We need to unite the people of Eldenwood... and keep the flame burning.” Her voice was full of determination. The two locked eyes, a deep sense of urgency settling between them. “There’s so much at stake... we cannot afford to lose sight of the future.”

  “But where should we start?” The chief asked anxiously, fidgeting with restlessness. “Everyone seems so confused right now. What does this mean?”

  “I’m just waiting for the orders from the Kaelith realm,” Elder Mara replied. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself against her own fears. “Let’s see what’s happening there first before we take any action.”

  “Very well.” The chief nodded firmly. A few moments later, he motioned toward a man standing nearby, his cloak hooded. “Please give us the report on the situation on your side of the line. And hurry! We don’t have much time left.”

  Seren stepped forward, straining to get a glimpse of the man beneath the hood. But the darkness obscured his face, and before she could reach him, he disappeared into thin air, leaving only a faint trail of smoke behind. Suddenly, Seren felt someone yank her ear, and she yelped, spinning around to face her attacker.

  “These are bad manners, and I never taught you this,” a voice scolded.