The world had ended twice before she ever took her first breath.
Beneath a fractured sky—cracks bleeding stars into oblivion—the city of Liora lay half-buried in ruins and whispered lies. Forgotten gods had fled, their names erased like dying echoes, leaving behind only shadows tangled in the remnants of glass and bone.
A lone figure moved through the wreckage, footsteps light but determined. Her eyes, twin abysses flecked with silver, caught every fractured shard of light that dared pierce the gloom. She was neither savior nor sinner, but something unspoken between—a paradox born of silence and fury.
In her palm, a delicate sphere pulsed, suspended between life and death. It held secrets no one dared remember and power no soul could wield without losing themselves. Her name was Selene, and the weight of worlds pressed upon her shoulders like a crown of thorns.
Behind her, a voice came—a voice like velvet wrapped in razor wire. "You carry the last breath of the old gods. Do you know what that means?"
She didn't turn. "It means the world demands a reckoning."
The air thickened. Time folded like a shattered mirror, reflecting futures that bled into pasts. Around them, unseen watchers stirred, shadows unraveling truths no light dared reveal.
This was only the beginning.