Prologue – The Whisper Before the Storm
The valley slept beneath a quilt of silver mist, cradled by mountains that stood like ancient guardians. Streams whispered over smooth stones, carrying the scent of wildflowers to every corner of the village. Here, peace was not just a dream — it was the air they breathed.
But far beyond the horizon, something moved.
A darkness, patient and hungry, waiting for its hour.
Nara was nineteen — a girl of quiet grace and restless dreams. She longed for roads that touched the edges of kingdoms, for the sea's endless horizon, for the weight of a crown she had yet to earn. For now, her world was small but warm: her father's laughter at the hearth, the chatter of her twin siblings, the soft hum of days unbroken by fear.
On the morning it all changed, she climbed into the mountain woods, a woven basket slung over her shoulder. She moved between shafts of golden light, fingers brushing over herbs and wild blooms. The wind curled through the pines, whispering secrets in a tongue older than the hills.
Then — a voice.
It rose from the shadows like smoke, smooth and cold, threading straight into her bones.
"When the heart's desire controls its master… even the devil shivers in fear. Be careful, young one. You have no idea the darkness that comes."
Her hands stilled. A sprig of thyme slipped from her grasp. She turned in every direction, but the forest stood motionless, silent but for her own breath.
She told herself it was nothing. Just the wind.
Then she heard it — faint at first, carried on the breeze: shouts. Screams. The jagged wail of despair.
The basket tumbled from her arms. Nara ran.
Branches clawed at her skin, roots threatened her footing, but she didn't stop. She burst from the treeline—
—and stepped into the end of her world.
The sky was black with smoke. Homes twisted and collapsed in fire. The earth was strewn with bodies, faces she had known all her life now pale and still. The air was thick with the copper sting of blood.
They had come.
The Dark Knights of the Obsidian Kingdom — faceless beneath their blackened helms, blades wet with death, crushing the fallen beneath their boots.
And in that moment, as the flames devoured everything she had ever loved, Nara understood:
The valley's peace had been nothing more than a fragile dream.
Her old life was gone.
Forever.