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The Book of Ashes: The chronicle of Flames

Cuneyt_Parlak
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Chapter 1 - Prologue: Rising from the Ashes

Prologue: Rising from the Ashes

A cold wind swept over the small village, carrying the silence of death in its wake. The sky was a somber gray, as if the heavens themselves mourned. Adrian Tigin knelt on the dirt ground, his trembling hands sifting through the ashes of what had once been his life. His eyes stared blankly ahead—not with sorrow, not with anger, but with the hollowness of a soul torn apart. His home, his family, everything he had ever known... destroyed in a single night.

Barely an hour ago, Lord Regan's soldiers had descended upon the village like wolves. Their justification? Unpaid taxes. But Adrian knew the truth. His father had spoken against the lord's tyranny, voicing truths that no farmer should dare to utter. To a nobleman, such defiance was an unforgivable sin—a crime punishable by fire and blood.

"Adrian..." A faint whisper carried through the still air. It sounded so much like his mother's voice. Adrian's head snapped up, his gaze darting through the wreckage, but no one was there. Only the ruins and ashes greeted him. His heart sank further as he whispered to himself, "No… they're gone. All of them."

He staggered to his feet, his knees weak beneath him, and looked around at the remains of his home. His eyes narrowed on a faint glow emanating from beneath the collapsed barn. Cautiously, he approached, his curiosity momentarily overpowering his despair. He knelt and began clearing away the rubble, his hands coated in soot and dirt. Beneath the wreckage, he uncovered an ancient book, its cover adorned with strange, glowing runes that pulsed faintly with an otherworldly light.

As Adrian reached out to touch the book, a strange warmth coursed through his fingertips. It was as though the book were alive, its power calling to him. He opened it, and golden light spilled from its pages, illuminating the darkness around him. The text within was written in a language long forgotten by mortals, yet Adrian understood it as if it had been etched into his very soul.

"From the ashes shall rise the bearer of ancient magic. Weakness shall turn to strength. Deaths shall shape life anew."

Adrian's hands shook as he read the words. His lips moved silently, repeating the lines to himself. What could they mean? What was this book? Before he could ponder further, a deep, resonating voice echoed from within the pages, its tone both commanding and foreboding.

"You are my chosen. Do you seek vengeance, Adrian Tigin? Do you desire power? If so, are you prepared to pay the price it demands?"

Memories of his mother's lifeless body, his father's desperate screams, and the flames consuming his village flashed through Adrian's mind. The anger he had buried beneath his grief surged forward, burning hotter than the fires that had razed his home. His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists as he whispered, "Yes. Whatever it takes."

The book erupted in flames, engulfing Adrian in a torrent of fire. Yet the fire did not harm him. Instead, it flowed into his body, filling him with a searing heat that coursed through his veins. He fell to his knees, gasping as the voice spoke once more, its words etched into his mind:

"From the ashes, you shall rise. With fire, you shall rule."

When Adrian opened his eyes again, he was no longer the same. The weakness that had gripped him was gone, replaced by a power he could neither name nor fully control. For the first time, he felt capable—not just of survival, but of exacting justice for all he had lost.

"This is only the beginning," Adrian muttered, his voice steady with newfound determination. He fastened the book to his belt and scavenged what little remained among the ruins. Ahead of him lay a long and treacherous journey—into the heart of the empire, through the shadows of the church's secrets, and into the games played by gods and kings alike.

But before all else, there was vengeance.