The scent of burning candles and dried herbs filled the dimly lit chamber. Shadows flickered across the cold stone walls, cast by the lone lantern swaying from the ceiling. Emma Stone sat beside the frail figure of her mother, whose breath had grown shallow, her once-bright emerald eyes now dull with exhaustion.
"Emma... listen to me," her mother whispered, her trembling fingers clutching Emma's hand.
Tears welled up in Emma's eyes. "Save your strength, Mother. I'll call for the healer—"
Her mother shook her head weakly. "No healer can change fate. My time has come." She coughed, her body trembling with each labored breath. Then, with the last of her strength, she reached under her cloak and pulled out a small black velvet pouch, placing it in Emma's hands.
Emma hesitated before untying the knot. As the fabric fell away, five glowing stones emerged, each pulsing with an otherworldly light—ruby red, sapphire blue, emerald green, golden topaz, and deep amethyst. The moment her fingers brushed against them, a strange warmth spread through her veins.
Her mother's grip tightened. "These stones are more than they seem. They hold power beyond mortal understanding. You must never let them fall into the wrong hands."
A chill ran down Emma's spine. "What do you mean? What are these stones?"
A painful smile crossed her mother's lips. "They are... our family's curse and our only hope." Her voice wavered, eyes glazing over. "Run, Emma. Run before they—"
Before she could finish, a loud bang shattered the silence. The wooden doors of their home burst open, and the cold night wind howled through the room. Emma spun around, her heart hammering in her chest. Silhouetted against the firelit sky stood a man in black armor, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. His eyes, cold as ice, locked onto the stones in Emma's trembling hands.
"The stones," he murmured, stepping forward. His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, yet it carried the weight of death. "Hand them over, girl."
Emma's breath caught. Who was this man? How did he know?
Her mother gasped, using the last of her strength to push Emma away. "Run!"
But Emma couldn't move. Her body froze in fear as the man raised his gloved hand, and a wave of dark energy surged toward her.
Instinct took over. Clutching the stones to her chest, Emma turned and ran.
Behind her, she heard her mother's pained cry, then silence.
No.
Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. The stones in her grasp pulsed wildly, their glow intensifying with each step. The ground beneath her trembled as shadows swirled, reaching for her like living tendrils.
She dashed through the narrow alleyways, her breath ragged, her legs aching. The town was in chaos—homes burned, people screamed, and the night sky glowed red with destruction.
This wasn't just about the stones. This was a massacre.
The realization sent ice through her veins. Who were these attackers? How had they known about the stones?
Ahead, the stone-paved road led to the forest. If she could make it there, she might have a chance to escape.
A shadow loomed over her.
Emma turned just in time to see the black-armored man standing a few feet away, blocking her path.
"Foolish girl," he sighed. "You can't outrun fate."
A surge of energy erupted from his palm, rushing toward her like a storm. Emma barely had time to react. She raised the stones, hoping—praying—that they would protect her.
And then—light. Blinding, golden light.
The last thing she heard was the man's startled gasp before everything around her vanished into darkness.