The night in Elandor was restless, with strong winds and a sky dense with clouds blocking the starlight. The city murmured, for it seemed that the very kingdom sensed something dark and relentless approaching. Inside the castle, Seraphis, Elysiel, and her parents, Aeleanor and Thaliel, gathered in a room illuminated by golden and blue flames. Ancient pages and delicately aged scrolls lay scattered across the table before them. The atmosphere was tense; they all knew the contents of those texts could unveil the future of Elandor and the underworld.
Thaliel traced his fingers over a fragile parchment, reading the words of an ancient prophecy in a low voice. The archaic language made interpretation challenging, but he and Aeleanor had spent days and nights trying to decipher it, aware that the destiny of the realms depended on understanding what was contained within.
