The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting the village of Eldermere in a blanket of moonlight. The air, cool with the coming night, carried whispers of something ancient. People moved hurriedly, preparing for the evening, their faces drawn with unease. In the heart of the village, Leora Swithen worked at the forge, her hands steady as she shaped the glowing metal.

She used to play football at school when she was in her high-school snd she was known for her skill with the hammer, and though her work was simple, it was vital to the community. She had inherited the forge from her late grandfather, and her life, though solitary, had always felt comfortable. But tonight, there was a weight in the air, a tension she couldn't understand.

A hard yet cold voice broke her concentration. "Leora." She looked up to see Mannuel, the village hermit, standing in the doorway of the forge. Mannuel was an older man, his hair silver with age, his robes tattered from years of wandering the forests surrounding the village. There was always something mysterious about him, but no one dared question the strange man who spoke in riddles that he could only understand.

"Good Evening, Mannuel," Leora said, wiping sweat from her brow. "What brings you to the forge?" Mannuel eyes, dark and deep, cold and harsh, seemed to search her soul. "The time has come, Leora. You must prepare." "Prepare for what?" Leora chuckled, her voice tinged with nervousness. She's confused, "I've got plenty of work to do. You know I don't have time for your prophecies or whatsoever." Mannuel stepped forward, his gaze unwavering.

"The prophecy of the Redeemer is real. It is you, Leora. You are the one that the world is waiting for." Leora shook her head, her laughter hollow. "The Redeemer? That's just an old tale to keep children in line." Mannuel's face grew serious, his voice low. "It is not a tale. It is the truth. You are the Redeemer.

The one who will either save this world or bring about its destruction." Leora's heart skipped a beat, and her stomach churned. She could feel the seriousness of his voice, "That's madness," she muttered, glancing away. "I'm not going to be a Redeemer. I'm just a blacksmith." Without saying another word, Mannuel reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out an ancient relica small, ornate medallion, engraved with a star that has a circle above it, that seemed to pulse with an unexplainable energy.

"Take it," he said, extending the relic toward her. Leora hesitated for a moment, but because of her curiosity something urged her to move forward. She reached out and grasped the cold metal. The instant her fingers brushed the relic, a surge of energy shot through her, causing her to gasp and stagger back. Visions swirled in her mind, images of a radiant figure, bathed in light, holding a sword of flame.

The figure's voice thundered in her mind. "The time of wrath is upon you. Choose your path, Redeemer." Said Mannuel. Leora's knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, breathless. The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her shaken and confused. She looked up at Mannuel, her voice trembling. "What was that? What did I just see?" Mannuel's expression softened. "That was the truth, Leora. You are the Redeemer. The power that surges within you is the key to either salvation or destruction.

"Before she could respond, a horn rang out in the distance, a sharp, desperate sound. The villagers began to scream in panic, rushing toward the gates. Mannuel's eyes narrowed. "They are coming." Leora rushed to the door, her pulse quickening. She looked toward the horizon and saw dark clouds gathering, swirling ominously. From the fog emerged twisted, grotesque creatures, half-man, half-beast, emerging from the shadows like something from a nightmare. Their eyes glowed with malevolent intent, their growls sending chills down her spine.

The villagers scattered in terror, fleeing to their homes, but Leora stood frozen in place. The creatures were coming for them. Mannuel grabbed her arm, his grip firm. "You cannot run from this. You must fight. Embrace the power inside you." Leora's mind raced. She is not a warrior. She had no training, no skill for battle. But as the creatures drew closer, she could feel the power Mannuel spoke of, pulsing through her veins. It was not of her making, and yet it felt like a part of her, something ancient and unyielding.

A creature lunged at her, its claws slashing the air. Without thinking, Leora raised her hand in defense. To her shock, a burst of energy shot from her palm, a blinding flash of light that sent the creature hurtling backward. It disintegrated into ash, vanishing into the night. The villagers stared in shock, murmurs of awe rippling through the crowd. Leora stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. The power within her had unleashed itself, and she had no control over it. She doesn't understand what is happening to herself.

Mannuel's voice whispers in her ears. "You are the Redeemer, Leora. It is your choice now. You must choose how you wield this power." The creatures continued to advance, their snarls growing louder. Leora could feel the energy building within her, a storm of divine wrath that could either save the village or destroy it.

The weight of the prophecy settled on her shoulders, and with it came the understanding of what she had to do. But the choice was hers. And the consequences of her decision were yet to be seen. With a deep breath, Leora stepped forward, her hands crackling with power. Her faith began to be visible. The storm had begun.