Chapter One: The Omen in the Sky
The stars burned too brightly that night.
Elira stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind pulling at her cloak as she watched the heavens above. The constellations, familiar and constant, now shimmered with an unnatural intensity, their light pressing against the darkness like molten gold upon black velvet. She had seen omens before—signs in the skies, ripples in the rivers, whispers on the wind—but never had the stars spoken so loudly.
A rustle behind her made her turn. A boy, barely past his twelfth year, emerged from the thicket, his dark curls wild and tangled.
"Elira," he whispered, eyes wide with fear. "The elders say it's a warning."
She turned her gaze back to the sky. A single star flickered, then vanished, swallowed by the abyss. Her heart clenched.
"It is more than that, Tavin," she murmured. "It's a summons."
The village lay below, nestled among the hills like a scattering of fallen leaves. From this height, she could see the torches flickering along the winding paths, the glow of hearthfires in every cottage. Tonight, they would gather at the Temple of the First Flame, seeking answers, praying for guidance. But she already knew what they would not yet dare to say—something was coming.
A cry split the air. Not from the village. Not from any beast she recognized. It was distant, yet close enough to send a chill through her bones. The wind carried it down from the mountains, where the old gods were said to slumber.
Tavin grasped her sleeve. "What was that?"
Elira hesitated before answering. "The end of waiting."
She turned from the cliff and strode back into the trees, her mind racing. She had spent years preparing for this moment, though she had never known when it would come. The teachings of the elders, the riddles in the sacred texts, the strange dreams that had haunted her since childhood—this was their meaning.
Something was waking.
And the stars had only just begun to burn.