The ruins of the Old City stood in silence beneath the cloak of night. The wind whispered softly, slipping through cracks in the moss-covered stone walls—walls shaped by time and memory. A thin fog drifted lazily through the arched, crumbling gateways and narrow paths that once bore witness to a long-lost grandeur.
Luma sat on the cold stone floor, leaning against an ancient carved wall etched with forgotten symbols. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was alert—watchful. Kael sat not far from her, his sword at his side, his body taut like a drawn bowstring.
Since their arrival earlier that evening, Kael had spoken little. The city was too quiet, too intact in its destruction. Something felt wrong, but nothing was certain. Luma simply observed—using her heightened senses and intuition—catching the scent of dust, hearing echoes from the walls, and feeling the faintest vibrations through the ground beneath her.
As the night deepened, sleep overtook Luma. But her sleep was far from ordinary. In her dream, she stood in the center of a burning hall. Its walls were crumbling, and the sky above bled red. A small child—herself—cried in the arms of a woman cloaked in silver. The woman whispered, "You must be hidden, Selene. They will come."
Then the fire roared, and the dream shattered.
Luma awoke with a gasp.
But she was not alone.
Before her stood a creature—tall and slender, not made of flesh but of faint light and mist. Its eyes glowed a soft blue, and its voice echoed without sound.
"Child of the Lost Light... you have finally returned."
Luma froze. Kael stood at once, sword raised. But the creature lifted a thin hand, and Kael fell still—not in fear, but as if suspended by a presence older than time itself.
"Who are you?" Luma's voice trembled.
"I am the keeper of this place. The guardian of memory and your origin. You must know who you are before they find you."
The being moved slowly, leading them toward a hidden underground passage beneath the ruins. Blue flames lit the corridor, needing no fuel. In the secret chamber that followed, a relic floated in midair—a sun-shaped crystal, cracked at the center.
"Touch it, and hear the voice of your blood," said the guardian.
Luma stepped forward and reached out to the relic.
In an instant, the Old City was no longer a ruin. It pulsed with life and brilliance. She stood atop a high tower, surrounded by magic flowing like air. Below, people cheered. Her mother—the woman in the silver cloak—smiled beside her.
But then the sky darkened. The light faded. Shadows surged across the land. The attack came like a storm. And one name echoed across the heavens:
"Varak... Lord of Shadows."
Everything went dark.
To Be Continued...