The sky above Eldenhold had changed.
Once a canvas of ordinary stars, it now shimmered with unfamiliar constellations—ancient patterns that pulsed like veins beneath skin. The wind carried voices not heard in centuries, whispering through broken towers and forgotten ruins.
Power was returning.
And with it, division.
Talen: The God Who Walks
Talen stood atop the mountain once more, the heart of the old world beating beneath his feet.
Around him, the dragons gathered—not as prisoners this time, but as sovereigns reclaiming what was theirs.
They did not speak in words.
They spoke in thought, in flame, in memory.
"The Veil thins," Vorathax intoned beside him. "The First Flame burns again."
Talen looked out over the land below.
Already, the signs were clear.
In the east, the sands of Arkanis rose to form ancient spires lost to time.
In the west, the forests of Yelthar whispered names long buried beneath roots.
Even the sea churned differently, as if stirring for something vast beneath its depths.
He turned to Vorathax.
"The humans will resist."
"They always do," the dragon replied. "But they cannot stop what has already begun."
Talen felt the weight of those words settle deep within him.
He had been one of them once.
A boy with dreams of dragons.
Now he was the dragon.
And the world would bow—or burn.
Vintrinx: The Fire That Refuses to Die
Below, in the ruins of the temple, Vintrinx trained.
Her instructor—Seyra , the winged woman with silver eyes—moved like smoke and struck like lightning.
"You fight like a soldier," Seyra said, dodging Vintrinx's blade with effortless grace. "But you must learn to move like fire."
Vintrinx gritted her teeth, pivoting mid-swing.
"I'm not here to become some mystical warrior," she snapped. "I'm here to understand what's happening to me."
Seyra paused, studying her.
"You are Marked," she said simply. "Born of old blood. Awakened by the return of the gods."
Vintrinx exhaled sharply.
"And what does that make me?"
Seyra smiled faintly.
"A choice."
She stepped closer.
"You can embrace what you are. Serve the new order. Or…"
Vintrinx narrowed her eyes.
"Or what?"
Seyra's wings flared slightly.
"Or you can stand against them. Forge a future where humanity is not bound by divine rule."
Vintrinx clenched her fists.
Then nodded.
"I choose defiance."
Seyra's smile widened.
"Good. Because the first war begins soon."
The Gathering Storm
Word spread quickly.
Talen was no longer just a figure of legend—he was walking among them, reshaping the world with every step.
In the city of Kaelmar , people built altars to him overnight.
In the desert strongholds of Arkanis , rulers knelt before visions of fire-eyed gods.
In the northern mountains, the Drakari clans began to awaken—half-human, half-divine beings who had survived in hiding for generations.
But not all welcomed the return of the gods.
In the shattered remains of Eldenhold , whispers of rebellion grew louder.
Led by Vintrinx.
And behind her, others began to rise.
Marked ones.
Survivors.
Dreamers who remembered.
And high above the world, Talen watched the flames of defiance flicker in the distance—and wondered if he had created a savior… or a storm.