PROLOGUE: THE THREAD OF FAITH.
The stars bled that night.
A storm raged in the heavens, the skies unraveling in fractured light. The twin moons—spectral and watchful—hovered above the land, veiled in a shroud of mist. The world stood on the precipice of something vast, something unseen. The air pulsed with an omen, an echo of something that had yet to arrive.
In the farthest reaches of the world, beneath an altar of stone and sorrow, the Seer trembled.
"It is coming," she whispered, her voice hollow.
The council around her leaned forward, their faces taut with fear.
"What is?" a voice demanded.
The Seer's gaze lifted, her hollowed-out irises swirling like blackened storms. She was not here. She was elsewhere, seeing beyond, speaking with tongues not her own.
"The clash of dusk and dawn."
The flames in the room flickered. The walls groaned under an unseen force.
"A light will be born, but where it walks, darkness will follow. And when it chooses, the world will decide: salvation or ruin."
The Seer gasped as the vision seized her, forcing her body into violent spasms. Images flooded her mind—a girl cloaked in firelight, her eyes shifting with something ancient. A boy standing before her, his shadow stretching long and deep. A kingdom, kneeling. A world, burning.
Then—blackness.
The Seer collapsed, the prophecy dying on her lips.
No names were spoken. No certainty was given. Only the promise of a storm yet to come.
---
Years Ago…
Kaelith stood in the ceremonial hall, the weight of his father's words pressing into his chest.
"You will listen, and you will remember."
He was young, but he understood. He had seen the way the elders spoke in hushed whispers, the way the air itself seemed to shudder when the prophecy was mentioned.
"The world is shifting, Kaelith. There is a force that does not belong. If it rises, it will unmake everything we know."
His father's eyes were cold, unreadable.
"Your duty is to ensure that does not happen."
Kaelith said nothing. He did not ask how. He did not ask why. He only nodded.
Somewhere beyond the reach of his kingdom, something was waiting. Something that would change everything.
And whether it was salvation or ruin… no one knew.
---
A Memory Forgotten
Nyxara was nine when she first heard the voices.
They came in whispers—never clear, never whole. A flicker of words. A breath against her ear.
"Find me."
She woke up with shadows clinging to her skin.
Some nights, she saw glimpses of places she had never been—ruined halls, cold steel, a boy standing at the edge of something dark.
She did not know who he was.
She did not know why she was seeing him.
But something deep inside her whispered:
"You are not meant to be."
She never told anyone.
She was afraid of what it might mean.
---
The First Meeting… Or Was It?
The forest was unnervingly silent that night.
Nyxara stood beneath the canopy of twisted branches, the silver light of the moon bathing the world in an eerie glow. Her breath was steady, yet something beneath her skin prickled—an instinct she could not name.
Then, she saw him.
A boy.
He stood in the clearing like he had always belonged there, dressed in dark robes, his posture regal and unmoving. His gaze met hers, piercing through the distance between them.
For a moment, she swore she had seen him before.
But that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
Her chest tightened.
She should leave. She should turn and run.
But she didn't.
Neither did he.
And in that moment, fate—silent and unseen-shifted.