Prologue/200 years agoLong ago, the peace of the world was threatened. by something ancient. By something that had no name… until humans learned to fear it.They came in many shapes,some crawling on twisted limbs, some slithering. They fed on life.They came to be called Umbrals.At first, only the Ferals appeared,mindless, ravenous creatures driven by pure instinct. Then came the Shades, Umbrals clever enough to steal human faces and walk unseen among villages.For centuries, humanity survived only because the Mages stood against them. Light against shadow. Will against hunger. Spell against claw.But everything changed the day a Wraithlord emerged.It was not Feral. It was not Shade. It was something far worse,an Umbral born with intelligence, purpose, and unimaginable power.It spoke. It strategized. And it slaughtered.The greatest mages of the age gathered to stop it… and they fell, one after another, as though their magic was nothing more than sparks in a storm.Desperation swep

King Darius: “What does the color purple mean?” the king asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity,as everyone was during the selection ceremony earlier that morning. Lysander, the kingdom’s most skilled Alchemist, bowed deeply before responding. “My lord… I am… baffled as well. This is the first time anything like this has happened. The other Alchemists and I can only form a theory, though we are not certain.” The king’s sharp eyes narrowed. “A theory, Lysander? Speak clearly. What are your thoughts?” Lysander swallowed nervously. “We… we believe… that he may possess the ability to wield both Arcanist energy and Alchemy, my lord.” The king stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Are you suggesting that Prince Eldan is both an Arcanist and an Alchemist?” “We are merely speculating, my lord,” Lysander corrected carefully, bowing again. “Hmh. I see.” The king leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping the armrest. “You may go.” “Thank you, my lord,” Lysander said quickly, bowing

Vanya: She ran as fast as her legs,could take her. Dax and a squad of armored guards tore through the trees, the stomping of their horses crushing dead leaves, their torches flickering. “Don’t let her escape!” Dax barked, his deep voice echoing through the forest. Vanya ran. Her breath came out ragged and uneven, her old lungs burning with every step. She stumbled over a root but didn’t stop. The night wind whipped at her tangled gray hair, and her cloak snagged on a branch, tearing. She didn’t care. Her only thought was run. Her heart pounded, both from exhaustion and fury. That wretched king… she thought bitterly. I should have known he’d betray me the moment he got what he wanted. Branches scratched her arms as she forced her body to keep moving. She could hear the guards getting closer. If she’d been at full strength, she could have easily blown them away. But the Alchemy of Souls had drained her. The ritual had taken nearly everything she had left. Her legs trembled. Her v

Soraya: That night, the moon hung low over the rooftops. The streets outside were finally quiet after the day’s commotion. Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single flickering oil lamp. Rhea sat cross-legged on the floor, folding clothes and talking endlessly her voice carrying the same excitement she’d had all day. “…and then when the gates opened, you should’ve seen how the crowd cheered! Mage Zhalik himself was there to welcome them! And the robes, Soraya,oh, the robes! They were so elegant.I swear,if i were one of them i will make sure to show off so well,can you imagine Soraya,That we were one of them?" Soraya didn’t answer. She sat by the small wooden desk near the window, chin resting on her hand, eyes distant. Her mind was far from Rhea’s chatter. Now that she had seen the palace gates open today, she had an idea but not a complete one. "Even if I pretend to be one of the new mages", she thought," I still need an acceptance scroll to be let in". She sighed heavily, tapp

Soraya:They reached the tavern quietly that night.The smell of ale, sweat, and roasted meat drifted from the open windows. Laughter erupted inside, followed by the clatter of mugs and drunken cheers.Soraya pressed her back against the wall and motioned for Rhea to stay low. Then, slowly, she leaned toward the window and peeped inside.The palace official was still there easy to spot even from the dim light of the tavern. His fine robe was wrinkled, his cheeks flushed red from drink. He spoke loudly, waving his mug and boasting about his “important duties” to anyone who would listen. The men around him roared with laughter, clearly entertained by his drunken pride.“He’s still here,” Soraya whispered, her eyes narrowing. “Perfect.”“Come, let’s go,” She whispered sharply, tugging at Rhea’s sleeve.They slipped through the dimly lit street toward the tavern’s side yard where the palace official’s wagon was parked. The horses were tied and half asleep, their t