In the coastal town of Tidehaven, where human fishermen worked alongside elven weavers and vampire scholars, a young woman named Elara tended to the sick and injured in the town's healing hall. At twenty-two, she was one of Eldoria's most promising healers—trained in human medicine, elven herbalism, and the gentle magic that vampires used to speed recovery.
Elara had grown up hearing stories of Hana and Kenji, of how they had united the races and restored balance to the land. She'd dedicated her life to carrying on their work, believing that healing was not just about mending bodies, but about building connections between people.
One rainy morning, a stranger stumbled into the healing hall—tall, pale, and wearing the robes of a traveling scholar. His face was drawn with pain, and his left arm hung limp at his side.
"Please," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I need help."
Elara rushed to his side, guiding him to a cot. As she examined his arm, she felt a strange energy—dark and familiar, like nothing she'd encountered before.
"What happened to you?" she asked, carefully cleaning his wound.
"I was exploring ruins in the Northern Peaks," he said. "Ancient places. I… I disturbed something I shouldn't have."
As Elara worked, she noticed symbols on his skin—faint markings that glowed with dark light. They looked like the ancient writing from the Eastern Wastes, but twisted, corrupted.
"I've never seen anything like this," she murmured. "The wound is healing, but the energy… it's spreading."
The stranger closed his eyes. "My name is Kael," he said. "I'm not just a scholar. I'm the son of one of the Shadow Syndicate's old leaders. I've spent years trying to make amends for what my family did—and now I've awakened something that could undo all the good we've built."