Lyra Nocturne's life had always been quiet. The small village of Ashenwood sat on the edge of the forbidden forest, far from the bustling cities and noble courts. Her days were filled with chores, studying, and tending to her younger siblings.
But that morning, everything changed.
A scream tore through the trees, raw and desperate. Lyra's stomach clenched as she ran toward the sound. A shadowed creature lunged at a villager, eyes glowing red like molten embers.
Instinct took over. Lyra's hands shot out. Her blood flared, a crimson glow spreading across her veins. The monster froze, then screamed in agony as the air around her warped.
The villagers stared in shock. Her hands trembled, eyes wide as a strange, ancient mark burned across her wrist.
It was the mark of the Nocturne bloodline—long thought extinct.
Before she could comprehend, dark figures descended from the forest. Clad in black armor, they moved with deadly precision. One stepped forward, eyes locked on her glowing mark.
"The cursed bloodline has returned," he said, voice cold and hard.
Lyra stumbled backward, heart pounding. "I… I don't know what you mean!"
"There is no home left for you," he said,
grabbing her arm. "You must come with us."
The forest around them roared as magic flared. Smoke, fire, and shadows danced in chaotic fury. Lyra's life, once ordinary, was gone forever.
And somewhere far above, hidden eyes watched. The world had awakened.