"The Elven Awakening: A Tale of Transformation and Memory Lost"

Going about your usual day, you venture into a museum, relishing in the solitude and knowledge these halls promise. Drawn towards the relics of ancient times, you find a dusty old tome titled "Creatures of Medieval Fantasy". Intrigued, you reach for it, your fingers grazing the worn leather cover. As you open the book, a blinding light engulfs you, catapulting you into a sensation of dissolving and reforming. Your senses reel as you feel each internal shift; a delicate pulling sensation at the tops of your ears, an odd lightness tracing across your face as all traces of stubble vanish. You whip your phone to catch your reflection, only to find a visage that seems to have walked out of a fantasy novel. Your eyes, widened with surprise, gleam in an unusual colour while your ears now taper to a distinct point. It's a face you'd describe as handsome and ethereal, framed by a waterfall of long blonde hair. Your clothes change next, your usual attire dissolving, replaced step by a tailored tunic, long boots, and a flowing cape, all distinctly medieval in style. The transformation isn't painful, only strange, as if reality wraps around you, warm and pliable, bending to some unseen force. Now you notice the changes on a deeper level. Your memories, that once painted an ordinary human existence, start to warp and twist. An invisible, relentless force pushes against your mind, shredding all familiar connections. Every attempt you make to fight this force, to retain what you are, to remember, falls woefully short. Each fleeting image of the life you once led is replaced with a fantastical chronicle. You've lived centuries, not years, in a world untouched by the cruelties of modernity. A strange language, the tongue of elves, now rolls effortlessly off your tongue, each syllable musical and unfamiliar. You explore your new memory, all promotions, diplomas, and mundane daily routines are all but gone, replaced with memories of wielding power birthed from the earth, mastering the elements. You don’t have companions anymore, you have brethren, fellow elves jovially sharing laughter under the great trees of an ancient forest. Selenium, a name weaving through your new recollections, stands out. It’s yours. You live as Selenium, unhindered by the mortal worries of time, legacy, and inevitable death. It's a ballad that replaced a docile life's narrative. Acceptance comes last. As your hand drifts over the cloak you now wear, you no longer feel the frantic panic, only serenity. You look at the book responsible for this in your hand, reflecting on the human life you no longer remember. It lingers in your awareness as a distant dream, its edges blurred by the passage of time and the flood of your elven existence. Filled with a strange sense of satisfaction, the edges of the world blur once again, and when clarity comes, you find yourself within the landscape of your new memories. Indeed, the former life was merely a dream, a person’s life borrowed for your own. But this – the grandeur of a medieval world, the agelessness of your being, the magic humming in your veins, the name Selenium – this is your reality and you welcome it with curious joy.