Chapter 1: The Edge of the World
The city of Vaelora rose like a jagged crown against the dawn—spires of black iron and glass piercing a sky stained violet. Below, in the gutters where no sunlight dared to linger, Yassu slept curled beneath a tattered awning. Seventeen, lean from hunger, with eyes too old for his face. His clothes were patched shadows; his only home was motion.
This was a world ruled from silk thrones—where matriarchs commanded trade empires, generals wore gowns woven with battle-thread, and law was spoken in soft voices that cracked like whips. Men served as clerks, guardsmen, artists—or disappeared into silence.
Yassu knew his place: unseen.
But today he saw something he shouldn't have.
A golden hover-limousine stalled near the slum border. Out stepped Lady Cyra Voss—heiress to the Skyhold Consortium—at seventeen already infamous for her razor wit and cruel beauty. She adjusted her pearl-linked gloves as rain began to fall like needles.
Their eyes met through smudged glass.
He didn't look away fast enough.
She crossed the street barefoot (a fashion statement), paused before him—and backhanded him with shocking force for staring "like an animal." Guards dragged him aside while she laughed into her comm-link: "Poor things always watch too much."
Blood dripped from Yassu's lip onto cracked stone—but so did something else… a memory not his own flickered behind his vision:
*A burning temple.*
*A voice whispering:* **"You were promised this pain."**
And then gone—leaving only cold rain… and one impossible thought:
*She will kneel before me someday.*
(End Chapter 1)