Prologue: The Awakening

The night the stars bled silver, the veil between worlds trembled.

Somewhere in the mortal world, in a quiet city where magic had been long forgotten, a child was born. The wind howled through the streets, whispering secrets no human could hear. Clouds swirled unnaturally above the hospital, flashing with streaks of silver light before vanishing into darkness. No one noticed. No one, except for those who still remembered.

Far from the city, hidden behind overgrown vines and ancient stone, stood a forgotten door. It was nestled between crumbling ruins, its wood darkened with age, its carvings nearly erased by time. For centuries, it had remained sealed, its power buried beneath layers of dust and neglect. But tonight, as the child took her first breath, the door stirred. Its symbols pulsed, faintly at first, then brighter, as if recognizing something—or someone.

And in the world beyond the door, the consequences had already begun.

Eldoria.

A land of endless skies and towering spires. A kingdom once ruled by magic, now on the brink of ruin.

The night the child was born, the sky split open. A jagged wound tore through the heavens, unleashing a storm unlike any seen before. Black lightning crackled, striking the earth with unholy fire. The ground trembled, and rivers darkened as if poisoned by the very air. In the heart of the capital, the great silver tower—once the beacon of Eldoria's power—shuddered.

Inside, the High Council gathered in a dimly lit chamber, their faces etched with fear. The air smelled of burning parchment, of old prophecies stirring back to life. At the center of the room, a crystal sphere floated above a stone pedestal, its surface flickering with chaotic images. A newborn child. A glowing birthmark. A door stirring from its slumber.

"It has begun," whispered an elder, his voice barely audible over the distant thunder.

Another, a woman draped in dark robes, clenched her fists. "The Keybearer has been born."

A hooded figure stepped forward, his voice calm but heavy with warning. "Then we are already too late."

Beyond the chamber walls, beyond the city itself, something else had awakened. In the depths of the Hollow Wastes, where no light reached, a presence stirred. Shadows curled around a throne of black stone, and a pair of cold, inhuman eyes opened.

The Hollow King had been waiting.

And now, he whispered a single word, letting it carry across the dying winds of Eldoria.

"Soon."

The Mortal World – Eighteen Years Later.

Lyra Evenshade had always felt like she didn't belong.

It was the little things. The way people's voices sometimes echoed in her ears before they even spoke. The way lights flickered when she walked past. The way she could always sense when something wasn't right, even before it happened.

She never told anyone, of course. How could she? No one else heard the whispers in the wind or saw the shadows move when they shouldn't.

But tonight felt different.

She stood on the rooftop of her apartment, staring up at the sky. The stars were too bright, too sharp—like tiny shards of silver glass. The air was electric, humming with a quiet energy she couldn't explain.

And then, she felt it.

A pulse. A tremor in the air, just beneath her skin.

Far below, in the oldest part of the city, the forgotten door let out a faint, groaning creak. Dust fell from its surface. The carvings, long dormant, pulsed with silver light.

The door was waking.

And Lyra had no idea that soon, it would be calling for her.