Elyria, 2178
Lyra Flynn stood before Oracle Vex, her heart racing with anticipation. The Oracle's chamber, hidden deep within Elyria's underground city, was shrouded in mystery.
"Lyra Flynn," Oracle Vex said, her voice low and soothing. "You have been chosen."
Lyra's eyes widened. "Chosen for what?"
Oracle Vex's gaze seemed to bore into Lyra's soul. "Aethoria's fate hangs in the balance.
You possess the ancient bloodline of its guardians."
Lyra's mind reeled. "What does that mean?"
"The world above is dying," Oracle Vex explained. "Aethoria's once-vibrant lands are now scorched and barren. But you, Lyra, hold the key to restoring balance."
Lyra felt a surge of determination. "I'm ready.
What must I do?"
Oracle Vex handed Lyra a small, intricately carved stone. "Find the ancient artifacts. Unit-the scattered remnants of Aethoria's people And claim your rightful place as the last hope of Aethoria.
As Lyra accepted the stone, a vision burst forth:
A ravaged landscape, with ruins stretching toward the horizon.
A figure, shrouded in shadows, watching her.
A whispered warning: "Beware the Devourer."
Lyra's vision faded, leaving her breathless.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
Oracle Vex's expression turned grave. "Your journey begins now. Heed the warning, Lyra.
The fate of Aethoria hangs in the balance."