The earth trembled as the first lightning struck. Not a mere discharge, but a pillar of white light that seemed to tear the sky apart. Chaos erupted across the continent as these pillars crashed into the ground with unpredictable force. Those unfortunate enough to witness it had no time to react. They were simply pulled in—swallowed by the relentless beams and spat out at random locations.

Some landed safely, in forests or fields. Others awoke at sea or in rivers of lava, doomed to certain death. And then there were the few who found themselves suspended 500 meters above the ground, torn from reality, condemned to a fall that offered only one outcome—the end.

Aaron, his massive axe still in hand, looked down. A dwarf shouldn't be flying… he muttered as the ground rushed toward him at dizzying speed.

Seraphion, clad in heavy armor, watched in silent acceptance—the wings that had once carried him long gone.

Lunara screamed, golden eyes wide with panic.

Zaphara remained motionless, the cold wind howling around her.

And Talon? His blood-red eyes glowed from beneath the shadow of his hood, his form still as stone, like a harbinger of the inevitable.

Then, just as the impact became inescapable, it happened. The world froze.

The ground vanished. The sky dissolved.

Everything became an endless void of darkness.

They stood in a dreamscape where silence was deafening. The water beneath their feet was shallow, barely reaching their ankles, yet unmoving, like a black mirror. The space was empty—except for a figure slowly materializing from nothingness.

Black as the void itself. Faceless. Featureless. Yet undeniably human in form.

"You are not here by chance," a voice echoed directly in their minds. "You should be dead. But I saved you. Not out of mercy, but necessity."

Talon pushed his cloak aside, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "And why exactly should we believe you?" he asked sharply.

Seraphion crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "What are you? And where are we?"

"I am not your enemy. And this place exists only because I will it."

Zaphara stepped forward, her ice-blue gaze piercing through the faceless entity. "And why save us? What do you gain from this?"

"You will serve me. That is my price."

Lunara narrowed her eyes. "So you saved us because you need us? Sounds to me like you're just using us."

"Call it what you will."

Seraphion raised a brow. "And if we refuse?"

"Then you return to where you were. 500 meters in the air."

The words echoed in the darkness, unyielding, absolute.

"What is this task?" Lunara asked hesitantly.

"You will meet a princess. Ivory. She must accept you willingly. You will accompany her on her journey. Until then, you are bound together. Stray too far, and you die. Fail, and you die."

Aaron's grip on his axe tightened, his eyes narrowing. "So we're just supposed to trust some faceless shadow? We don't even know what you are! Do you have anything to do with those damned lightning strikes?!"

Suddenly, he moved—an instinctive reflex. For a split second, the entity flickered in his vision, distorted, almost like an illusion. Without thinking, Aaron raised his axe and swung it with all his might.

A dull crash.

Before he could take another step, his legs froze in place. Cold surged up from the water, creeping over his boots as the liquid solidified into ice. Blue-tinted crystals coiled around his calves like vines, locking him in place.

Zaphara lowered her hand, the last traces of frost still dissipating from her fingers. Her icy stare fixated on Aaron, brimming with barely restrained irritation. "You damn fool. Get a grip."

Aaron struggled, his legs trapped in the frozen water. "You can't just—"

"I can. And if you act recklessly again, I'll freeze your mouth shut too."

Lunara exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Perfect. The dwarf wants to fight, the ice witch wants to freeze him, and we still don't have any answers." She turned back to the figure. "Why us? What do you want from us specifically?"

The dark presence remained still, unmoving, as if it existed outside time itself.

"You will understand soon enough."

Zaphara scoffed. "Great answer. Very helpful."

Seraphion observed in silence, arms still crossed. He said nothing, but the sharpness in his eyes made it clear—he was not convinced.

Aaron, his frustration cooling alongside the ice on his legs, shot an irritated glare at Zaphara. "Mind unfreezing me now?"

"Promise you won't attack the next shadow you see."

"Yeah, yeah, I promise."

With a lazy flick of her fingers, the ice cracked apart. Aaron stomped out of the frozen remains and begrudgingly returned to the group, which remained tense as they faced the entity.

A heavy silence settled over them.

Talon let out a quiet snort. "And why is this Ivory so important? What makes her so special?"

"You will find out."

Seraphion's expression darkened. "Great answer."

Zaphara folded her arms. "Why exactly do you need her? What is she to you?"

"A key."

"A key to what?" Talon asked, suspicion laced in his voice.

The figure was silent for a long moment before finally answering. "To what is coming."

Aaron exhaled sharply. "This is bullshit! Give us a straight answer!"

"You have no time for answers."

Aaron scoffed. "Sounds more like you just won't give us one."

Talon stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "Why should we agree to this pact? What happens if we don't?"

"Then you die."

Seraphion's voice was cold. "You've said that already. But why us? Why not someone else?"

"You are here. That is enough."

Lunara hesitated before speaking. "And if we fail to convince Ivory?"

"Then you die."

Zaphara pressed her fingers against her forehead. "I swear, you know about five sentences, shadow man."

A deep, rumbling sound filled the space. The darkness around them constricted, as if reality itself was reacting to their hesitation.

"Your time is up." The entity's voice was not angry. Not forceful. Just... final.

"Make your choice."

The group exchanged glances.

Seraphion looked to Zaphara, who clenched her jaw.

Talon's crimson eyes remained locked on the entity, mistrust unwavering.

Aaron grumbled under his breath.

And so, Zaphara was the first to break the silence.

"We don't have a choice, do we?" Her smile was as cold as her magic.

One by one, they stepped forward and reluctantly placed their hands upon the figure's.

Darkness pulsed around them as their fates became irrevocably entwined and a deep, foreboding tremor shook the void, as if reality itself acknowledged their decision.

Suddenly, a blinding beam of light tore through the darkness, wrenching them from the black void and hurling them back into the world. The impact was deafening, like thunder shaking the earth, leaving behind a mark visible from miles away.

Ivory, one of the four princesses of Valoria, felt the tremors before she even saw the light. The ground beneath her feet quivered as if the sky itself had carved a scar into the land.

Her bodyguard, Silen, halted abruptly, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. But Ivory didn't hesitate.

"That came from the clearing," she said, a mixture of curiosity and determination lacing her voice. Before Silen could stop her, she ran.

What she found defied explanation.

The small clearing, encircled by towering autumn trees, seemed to hold onto an echo of the darkness from which it had emerged. Though the morning sun had begun its ascent, a thick mist clung to the forest floor, weaving between the trunks like a lingering shadow. The golden light of dawn seeped through the fiery-colored canopy above, illuminating the crisp red and orange leaves carpeting the ground. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and the fading warmth of summer, now yielding to the embrace of autumn.

And at the center of it all stood five figures—foreign, otherworldly, and enveloped in an aura of shadows that still whispered remnants of the void they had escaped.

For a moment, Ivory held her breath. She couldn't explain why, but something about them made her pulse quicken.

The morning sun bathed the clearing in a soft glow, revealing the strangers in full detail. They stood like misplaced pieces in a world that did not yet belong to them—distinct from one another, yet undeniably connected.

Aaron was the first to break the heavy silence. His booming laughter rang through the trees, a sudden, almost jarring eruption of life in the eerie quiet. The dwarf carried his massive axe with the ease of someone wielding a simple walking stick. His broad frame was akin to a moving fortress, yet his face radiated a warmth rarely seen in warriors of his caliber.

"Alright, friends! We've got ourselves an adventure!" he bellowed, his voice brimming with boundless energy. Perhaps a bit overbearing—but impossible to stay mad at for long.

Seraphion stood slightly apart from the others, his heavy armor dull under the soft light. He was so still, he could almost be mistaken for a statue—until one looked into his eyes. They were a reflection of his fallen lineage, carrying the weight of a deep sorrow, hidden behind a mask of unwavering stoicism. Yet beneath the steel and silence lay a soul ever willing to stand for those in need.

Lunara, the Kitsune, moved with an effortless grace, as if the forest itself welcomed her presence. Her silken white hair shimmered like pure moonlight, and her golden eyes held a quiet promise of hope and solace. She was dressed in a flowing black garment that only accentuated her elegance. Her presence was like a silent blessing—a living reassurance that, somehow, everything would be alright.

Zaphara followed behind her, a stark contrast in every way. Her white hair was cold and lifeless, much like her expression, which revealed nothing. Her icy blue eyes were as frigid as the eternal snows of her homeland, and the ivy crown upon her head seemed oddly out of place—like a relic from a summer long lost. Her dark leather attire, adorned with blue feathers, and the shimmering necklace bearing a sapphire star that rested against her chest spoke of a lonely past.

And finally, there was Talon, lingering at the edge of the group, his form half-swallowed by the shadows. His cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, the hood drawn low over his face. But beneath it, his blood-red eyes gleamed—like glowing gateways to a world better left untouched. Not a single word left his concealed lips, yet his presence alone was a silent storm, an unspoken omen that made even the bravest hesitate.

And despite their vastly different natures, they all shared the same thought as they watched the young woman sprinting toward them. Her long, sky-blue hair flowed behind her, caught in the morning wind, as her resolute voice shattered the silence.

"Are you alright? What happened here?"

Her first encounter with them at a time when she could still look them in the eyes... No one answered.

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered across her face—perhaps they did not trust her. Her fingers curled slightly before she straightened her posture once more, her voice steady and unwavering.

"I am Ivory Fendril, one of the princesses of this kingdom. Whatever happened here, I swear—I will help you!"

The moment her name fell, realization struck them like lightning, a silent thought flashing between them all at once:

This is our target.