Miku_Peachy

In the peaceful village of Liora, Elara Wynne lives a quiet life mixing potions and healing herbs. But when a strange celestial mark appears on her hand and creatures from forgotten legends begin to hunt her, Elara is thrust into a world of magic she never knew existed.

Kael Thorne, a knight of the lost order, finds her just in time. Cold, duty-bound, and harboring secrets of his own, he reveals that Elara isn’t just anyone — she’s the last descendant of the Aetherblood line, gifted with an ancient power feared and worshipped by kingdoms.

As war brews and factions rise, Elara must awaken her hidden powers before the darkness consumes everything — including the knight slowly unraveling her heart.

Whisper of Aetheria

Snow fell heavy as they reached the ruins of Elarion — once a city of glass and flame, now reduced to spires of frozen stone and memory.

Miraen's staff pulsed faintly as they passed the crumbling arch of the main gate.

"This is it," she said. "The heart of the old world. And the Gate sleeps beneath it."

Elara's flame ached in her chest. Every step closer made her feel like her bones were humming. Or warning her.

Suddenly — a voice echoed across the ruins.

It wasn't a sound made of words. It was older.

A call woven into the bloodline itself.

Before anyone could react, blinding light engulfed Elara.

In a golden courtyard, the sun warm on her face. Her hands were smaller. Calloused. Not her own.

Crowds gathered, cheering. Banners flew. And at the center stood a woman crowned in flame.

Elara realized she was seeing through Isolde's eyes — her ancestor, the first Flamebearer.

But there was a shadow beside her. A girl, nearly identical, but dressed in silver threads instead of fire.

"I warned you, sister," the girl said in a voice sharp as frost. "This power doesn't belong to just one."

Isolde turned — and through her, Elara felt grief.

"I never wanted it to," Isolde replied. "But the Gate chose me."

"No," the twin said, tears forming in her pale eyes. "The Gate was guided. Twisted. By the Seers who feared us both."

Elara collapsed to her knees in the snow, gasping.

Across the ruins — she saw Aelira, falling too, her breath ragged.

Their bloodlines were not rivals by nature, but by design — divided not by flame, but by fear.

Her voice shook. "The Gate… it was meant for both of them. But they were torn apart."

Aelira rose in the distance, staring at Elara with wide, unreadable eyes.

Miraen whispered, "The Gate is waking. And it doesn't want war."

Elara's flame pulsed — this time not with fire, but choice.

For the first time, the path ahead wasn't just about power.

It was about healing a legacy broken by fear.

And maybe… rewriting destiny itself.

Trial of the Ancient