The world shifted around her as Aelira stepped out of the portal. The glade vanished behind her, replaced by a plateau of jagged obsidian overlooking a ruined city. Storm clouds churned above, thick with ash and crackling lightning. Here, time itself seemed fractured, the sky pulsing as if reacting to her very presence.
Aelira inhaled. The air was different from before—tainted, heavier, laced with forgotten magic. Her silver eyes flickered with unease.
"The Riftlands," she murmured. "So much has changed."
She turned, her gaze sweeping the distance. Once, this land had been vibrant—home to the lunar clans who worshipped the old stars. Now, it was a wasteland of broken temples and ghostly winds.
Her pendant—Kael's Crescent—glowed faintly against her chest. With every step forward, it pulsed brighter, guiding her toward something… or someone.
Kael, meanwhile, sat at the edge of a ruined shrine far to the west, his body wrapped in bandages, his wounds still fresh from the previous battle. Lin rested nearby, her breathing calm but shallow. The cost of saving her had drained Kael more than he admitted. His strength was returning, but slowly.
A flicker of silver light appeared in the air.
He rose immediately, instinct on edge. But it wasn't a threat.
It was a sign.
A presence.
Faint but familiar.
He clenched his fists. "She's coming."
Back in the Riftlands, Aelira climbed a narrow ridge. At its peak stood an ancient sentinel—half-statue, half-spirit—carved in the image of the moon goddess, Aethra. The statue's eyes glowed faintly as she approached.
"You return," the spirit whispered, voice like wind through crystal.
"I must," Aelira said. "The world is tilting into chaos. I've seen what awaits if I do nothing."
"You are no longer what you were," the statue said. "You are of the moon, but the flame touches your fate now."
"I know," she replied. "He holds the Forsaken Fire. And if left unchecked, it will consume him."
"Then you must decide, Moonborn. Save him—or end him."
She didn't answer. Instead, she placed her hand on the statue's base. Symbols flared to life beneath her touch, and a path opened below, descending deep into the forgotten vaults of the First Starborn.
Far beneath the plateau, the vault was a marvel of ancient craftsmanship. Floating lanterns shimmered with starlight, illuminating vast murals that danced along the stone. They depicted battles from ages past—when moon and flame fought side by side… then against each other.
Aelira paused before one mural.
It showed a man wreathed in flame.
And beside him… a woman cloaked in silver.
Both were locked in battle against the Warden of Chains.
She stepped back, realization dawning.
"This isn't the first time," she whispered. "We've done this before…"
A voice echoed behind her. "And you failed last time."
She turned sharply. A man stepped from the shadows—his features youthful, yet impossibly ancient. Golden eyes burned in his face like twin suns.
"I am Solen," he said. "The Last Starborn. And I've been waiting for you."