The first light of morning crept through a wounded sky, filtering through the drifting smoke that still hung above Elaris like a mourning veil. The storm that had raged through the night had broken, but the city bore the marks of its fury. Walls once proud stood cracked and scorched; banners that once carried hope now hung in tatters.The scent of wet ash lingered in the air — a strange blend of life and death. Water from the night’s rain mixed with soot, creating dark rivulets that traced the cobblestones like veins. The people moved slowly, dazed, clutching one another as they tried to rebuild what the shadows had stolen.On the eastern wall stood Michael, gazing over the city that had survived. His armor was dull, caked with the grime of battle. He leaned against the cold parapet, the faint morning wind brushing his hair, and exhaled heavily. The sun was a pale disc behind the clouds, reluctant to shine — as though even light itself feared to intrude upon the ruin below.From behin

The hall was dim and cold, the kind of cold that crept into the bones and made even the flames seem weary. Candles burned low in their holders, dripping wax across the warped council table where maps lay scattered like wounded bodies.Michael stood at its center, one gauntlet braced against the wood, the other clenched at his side. His armor bore the stains of the last skirmish—mud, soot, and faint streaks of dried blood. He had not slept. None of them had.Through the narrow windows, the faintest light of dawn began to bleed through, pale and uncertain. Beyond the walls, the wind carried the smell of wet ash and iron. Somewhere far off, a bell tolled—slow, mournful, and hollow.Clara entered quietly, her footsteps barely disturbing the heavy silence. Her cloak trailed across the floor, torn at the hem but clean. Her face was drawn with exhaustion, yet her eyes—steady, sharp—held that rare kind of calm that came not from peace, but from purpose.“They wait for you,” she said softly. “

The wind carried a strange calm across the courtyard, a silence too deliberate to be trusted. The golden hues of evening washed the compound in soft, deceptive peace — a peace that could shatter at any moment. Ama stood by the veranda rail, her eyes tracing the horizon where the sun dipped behind the tall neem trees. Her heart felt heavier than usual; something was shifting, something unseen but undeniable.From a distance, she could hear muffled voices — men in low conversation behind the northern wall. Their tones were careful, as though the very air might betray them. She couldn’t make out the words, but one name slipped through the stillness like a knife: Michael.Her grip tightened around the rail.Michael had been gone for days — gone without a word, without a trace. But now, his name being whispered in the shadows meant one thing: not everyone wanted him to return.Inside, Grace was setting the evening table. Her movements were steady, deliberate, though her mind wandered. She’

The first light of dawn crept across the sky like a timid promise, bleeding through the thinning mist. The mountains stretched wide and ancient before them, their peaks catching the soft pink hues of morning. Clara drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the cold air biting through the worn fabric.They had been walking since before dawn — silent, cautious, and alert to every whisper the wind carried. For days now, the sense of being watched had followed them like a shadow.Michael walked slightly ahead, his stride steady despite exhaustion. His cloak fluttered in the breeze, revealing the faint glint of his sword’s hilt. The scars on his face caught the light, and Clara could see the toll their journey had taken. His expression, as always, was unreadable — a calm mask that concealed storms within.“They’re close,” Clara said softly, her eyes scanning the fog-covered slopes behind them.Michael didn’t turn. “I know.”There was no fear in his tone, but Clara caught the stiffness i

The valley exploded into chaos.The first of the shadow creatures lunged forward, their forms rippling like smoke in sunlight. Michael’s blade met the darkness with a blinding flash, cutting through its form as though slicing mist — yet the thing screamed, the sound hollow and unearthly.“Hold your ground!” Michael shouted.His brother, still astride his horse, drew his weapon and signaled to his men. “Form the line! Shield the girl!”The clatter of steel and the neighing of frightened horses filled the air. Clara stumbled backward, clutching the satchel to her chest as the relic pulsed violently — its light bleeding through the seams, bright and alive, humming like a heartbeat.Then it happened — a surge so powerful it threw her off her feet.The ground beneath them split open with a deafening crack. Light burst upward from the fissure, engulfing the valley in a searing radiance that momentarily silenced everything. The creatures shrieked and retreated, writhing as the brilliance tor