Prologue: The Beginning of the End

The first time Elara saw the sky burn, she was only ten years old.

She remembered standing on the crumbling steps of the orphanage, clutching a worn-out blanket as flames danced in the distance. The great city of Vareth was under siege, and the world she knew was coming to an end.

Her parents had already vanished into the chaos—taken, lost, or worse. She had no way of knowing. All she could do was watch as the night swallowed everything whole.

A hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the fire's glow.

"Run, Elara!"

The voice belonged to Master Orin, the old scholar who had taught her to read, to think, to question. He dragged her through the streets as buildings collapsed around them, as the screams of the fallen echoed in the air. But Elara didn't cry. She didn't stop to mourn. Even as her small legs burned with exhaustion, she kept moving.

They reached the edge of the city, where a hidden passage led to the river. Orin knelt before her, gripping her shoulders. His face was pale, his robes streaked with blood.

"You have to listen," he said urgently. "You are not just a girl, Elara. You are the last of something far greater."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You will." He pressed something into her hands—a small, jagged crystal, cool to the touch. "They will come for you. They will hunt you. But you must survive."

A shadow loomed over them.

A man stepped from the darkness, his golden eyes gleaming like a predator's. Elara had never seen him before, but she would never forget him.

"Asher," Orin whispered, as if the name itself was cursed.

The man smiled. "It's time, old friend."

Orin shoved Elara toward the water. "Run!"

She hesitated. "No, I—"

"RUN!"

The river swallowed her before she could scream. The last thing she saw was fire in the sky, and the last thing she heard was Orin's voice, lost in the chaos.

She never saw him again.

But she never forgot.

Now, ten years later, Elara stood on the ruins of that same city, holding the same crystal in her hands. The past had come full circle.

And this time, she would not run.

This time, she would fight.