The night was calm.
A cool breeze swept through Ignisia, carrying the lingering scent of roasted meat and the faintest trace of autumn air. The town pulsed with its usual rhythm—merchants packing up their stalls, distant laughter spilling from taverns, the dull clang of blacksmiths finishing their final orders.
Then—
Boom.
The western granary erupted.
A fireball consumed the sky, blazing debris launched like meteors before crashing down onto rooftops and cobbled streets. The impact shattered the night, sending a shockwave rippling through the town. Windows exploded outward, glass cascading like deadly rain. The air pulsed from the force, a brief moment of eerie silence swallowing the world—
Then, the screaming began.
A second explosion followed. This time, the guardhouse. The watchtower crumbled in a burst of embers, wooden beams collapsing like brittle bones. Sparks spiraled into the night, a tempest of burning ash.
The town bell rang frantically, an alarm too late.
They were already inside.
The Ashen Veil poured from the alleyways, ember-colored robes blending into the flames. Their torches cast eerie, flickering shadows as they moved with ruthless precision—blades flashing, cutting down unsuspecting guards, setting homes ablaze.
She felt it before she heard it.
A pressure wave slammed through the streets, rattling windows, shaking the very bones of the town. Mugs tumbled from tables, chairs scraped violently across the floor. For a moment, everything stilled—held in that breathless pause before destruction truly set in.
Then, the sound came crashing in.
A deafening roar of fire and force.
Irelia shoved back her chair, hand already gripping the Egg's container. The runes etched into the goldwood pulsed beneath her fingertips, reacting to the magic in the air.
Not again.
She bolted for the door. Behind her, voices rose in confused panic, patrons scrambling, bar stools toppling, but she barely heard them.
The moment she stepped outside, heat slammed into her.
Flames. Smoke. Screams.
Fire raged in the distance, thick plumes of black smoke curling into the sky like hungry serpents. The orange glow painted the streets in flickering horror, reflecting in the wide, terrified eyes of fleeing civilians. Buildings cracked and splintered under the assault, burning embers floating through the air like dying stars.
Irelia's pulse pounded against her ribs.
This wasn't mere chance, nor the work of common bandits raiding the town.
They hadn't come for Ignisia.
They had come for the Egg.
For her.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me—"
The explosion hurled crates through the air.
Pip hit the ground hard, rolling as burning splinters rained around him. The acrid scent of charred wood filled his lungs as shouts erupted across the market. Merchants stumbled backward, some trying to salvage their goods, others abandoning them entirely as fire spread like a living thing.
He groaned, pushing himself upright, shaking soot from his coat.
His cart—his livelihood—was overturned, half of his wares scattered, the rest swallowed by flames.
For a second, frustration surged hot in his chest. Months of work, carefully planned trade routes, every deal struck—gone in an instant.
But there was no time for anger.
He grit his teeth, scanning the streets. Irelia. He needed to find her.
Because if this was what he thought it was—
They were in deep trouble.
The explosion cut her off mid-sentence.
Nariel's fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword as the room fell into stunned silence. The force of the blast rippled through the barracks, dust falling from the rafters like shaken ash.
Then, chaos.
Knights scrambled for weapons, orders barked over the growing panic.
The second explosion hit. The walls shuddered.
Nariel didn't wait.
With a sharp curse, she unsheathed her sword in one fluid motion and bolted for the doors.
Heat slammed into her like a physical force as she stepped outside. The western district was already burning. Shadows twisted through the firelight, cultists moving in coordinated strides, their blades flashing red-hot in the glow.
Her jaw tightened.
This wasn't just an attack.
This was war.
And they were already behind.
The town of Ignisia burned.
And the Ashen Veil had come to claim it.
The fire raged. Smoke coiled through the streets, thick and suffocating, clinging to Irelia's lungs as she sprinted into the chaos.
The heat hit like a hammer. A living, breathing force. The world was burning. Shadows flickered through the inferno, distorted figures moving with lethal purpose.
Then—movement.
From the alley, a molten glow surged forward. A split second of warning before it struck.
The fire elemental lunged.
Its body churned between shifting embers and liquid flame. Claws of molten rock raked through the air, warping the space around them with blistering heat.
Irelia barely dodged.
She rolled low, heat licking at her skin, the scorch of displaced air grazing past her cheek. Smoke curled thick around her, narrowing her vision. No time to think—only to act.
Her fingers moved on instinct, tracing the air—a sharp glyph of ice carving itself into existence at her command.
She slammed her palm against it.
Detonate.
A burst of Frostburst energy erupted outward, meeting fire with frost.
The fire elemental shrieked. Its molten core cracked, splintering into jagged fractures as ice webbed through its form. Its glow flickered, dimming—until, with a final hiss of steam, it shattered.
She didn't have time to celebrate.
A voice cut through the crackle of flames.
"It has to be here! The essence—secure it for the Emberlord!"
Irelia's pulse slammed against her ribs.
It was a confirmation.
They were here to hunt.
For the Egg.
For her.
A streak of red light in her periphery—firebolt.
Irelia twisted, teleporting mid-step.
One moment, she was standing in the flames—the next, she was behind her attacker. Both blades drawn.
The cultist barely turned before her dagger carved across his back.
A sharp gasp. Then, he crumpled forward, his spell fizzling out before impact.
Footsteps. More.
She pivoted. Three—no, four. Closing in. Their robes flickered with ember-woven magic, their hands alight with flame.
She exhaled sharply. Fine.
Her boot carved a rune into the ground, the arcane sigil glowing beneath the soot-covered stone.
They charged.
The Frost Trap activated.
Ice spiked upward.
The first two cultists barely had time to react before jagged shards of frost tore through their bodies, freezing them where they stood.
The others hesitated.
And that's when she felt it.
The shift.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the alleyway.
Slow. Heavy. Predatory.
Irelia turned.
Eyes like burning coals stared back at her.
A hellhound.
It was larger than any she had seen before. Its body wreathed in dark flames, its molten eyes locked onto her with predatory hunger. Blackened fangs dripped with magma, sizzling against the cobblestones.
But what caught her attention was the collar.
Irelia groaned, shifting her stance. "Oh, wonderful."
A thick band of blackened metal encased its neck, glowing with runic inscriptions. Power pulsed from the engravings, ancient and volatile.
"Fantastic. Just fantastic. These maniacs went and supercharged a hellhound with magic."
It began to circle her.
Slow. Stalking.
A predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Then—it lunged.
A burst of fire-enhanced speed. Faster than it should have been. Faster than any normal hellhound.
Irelia sidestepped, the searing heat of its charge grazing past her.
The hellhound landed, claws ripping into stone, molten drool hissing where it fell.
She had no time to think—only react.
A sharp rune flashed beneath her boot.
Windborne Rune—activated.
A gust of wind propelled her upward, flipping onto a nearby barrel, gaining the high ground.
The hellhound's eyes tracked her, its growl deepening.
She reached for her dagger, and hurled it.
A blur of silver cut through the air—
But the hellhound twisted mid-leap, dodging.
Irelia's smirk tightened. "Fast bastard."
Brute force wouldn't work.
She had to be smarter.
The hellhound kicked over a burning crate, embers spilling out in a sudden wave of heat and sparks.
Irelia shielded her eyes, stepping back as fire caught on dry wood, spreading in an instant.
Then—silence.
The hellhound disappeared into the smoke.
Its body was built for the shadows, its dark flames camouflaged within the chaos.
It was hunting her.
She didn't run.
Instead, she placed her hand on the ground.
A Frostburst Rune.
She etched the sigil into the stone, activating it in a quick flash of blue light.
Then, she stepped forward.
Into the smoke.
She closed her eyes.
Blocked out the flickering flames. The shifting shadows.
Listened.
The sound of claws scraping.
A single breath of molten air behind her.
There.
The hellhound leaped.
Right where she expected.
At the last second—
Irelia teleported.
A flicker of blue light, and she was behind it—just as her Frostburst Rune activated.
Ice erupted upward.
The hellhound snarled, its legs encased in jagged frost.
It thrashed, trying to break free, steam rising from its body where fire met ice.
With a furious roar, it shattered the ice in a fiery burst, but now—
It was limping.
Injured.
But angrier.
Its chest expanded, energy building—
Irelia's eyes widened. "Oh, hell—"
The hellhound expelled a cone of flame, a wave of searing fire engulfing the alleyway.
The entire street ignited.
The heat was unbearable, the flames spreading too fast.
Irelia ran.
The wooden staircase to her left was already crumbling from the heat, but it was her only option.
She sprinted up, boots thudding against brittle steps, feeling the wood shift beneath her weight.
The hellhound followed.
Faster. Relentless.
As it lunged up after her, Irelia's blade carved into the rooftop.
A Runic Trap.
Ice and wind magic embedded into the structure.
She turned—waiting.
The hellhound lunged—
And landed right on the rune.
The wind magic pulled it into the center, the force locking its limbs.
The ice magic crystallized over its legs, spreading fast.
It snarled, fighting against the pull.
Too late.
Irelia teleported.
A flash of blue light.
She appeared behind it.
One strike.
A clean cut to the throat.
The snarl choked into silence.
The body collapsed.
Flames raged around her. The town still burned.
Irelia exhaled, flicking blood from her blade.
"Should've stayed in hell."
Then she turned.
The battle wasn't over.
She sprinted back into the streets—toward the next fight.