The wind howled over the cliffs of Raventhrone as the first rays of dawn bled through a storm-dark sky. The new balance—Flame and Shadow merged in Liora and Lucien—reverberated through the realms like the tolling of an ancient bell. Magic, long dormant, stirred across continents. Mountains trembled. Seas swelled. Beasts slumbering since the First Age opened their eyes.
But none of it compared to what stirred in the north.
Far beyond the Forsaken Peaks, in the heart of the Whispering Expanse, the remnants of the Darkborn Council convened.
"We felt it," rasped Elder Varn, his voice like shattered ice. "The Pact has been renewed."
A woman in crimson armor paced before him. Her face was hidden behind a spiked mask, her presence a suffocating shroud.
"Then the Rift is at risk of closing," she hissed. "That cannot happen. Not until the Gate is open, and the Scourge unleashed."
From the shadows emerged a creature unlike the others. Eyes like coals. A mouth full of daggers. Wings stitched from shadows.
"The girl must die," it whispered. "She who binds the Flame and Shadow."
"And her consort with her," added the crimson warrior. "We ride before the blood moon. Prepare the hounds."
---
Liora awoke to silence.
No birdsong. No whispers of leaves. Even the wind had grown still.
Lucien lay beside her, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. Though their essences had merged, he was still wholly himself—more potent, more tethered, but still Lucien.
She slipped from the bedding, stepping barefoot onto the sanctum's warm stone floor. As she crossed into the ancient chamber, the runes lit up in her presence. A soft hum filled the air.
Nyrrisa was already there, staring into the basin of memories.
"You should be dead," the Keeper said without turning.
"I've heard that before," Liora replied. "But here I am."
Nyrrisa turned, something almost like amusement on her ageless face. "Indeed. You and Lucien did what no others dared. You've rewritten the Pact. The balance has not just been restored—it's evolved."
Liora stepped closer. "But what does that mean? What happens now?"
Nyrrisa's gaze sharpened. "Now, the world pushes back."
---
Three days later, the Sentinels prepared to march. The Raventhrone cliffs had become a fortress—runes warding the skies, archers on every ledge, blades sharpened and spirits braced. Word had come from the eastern cities: beasts of the old dark now stalked the plains. Villages burned in the night. Storms rose from clear skies.
"We can't hold the lines forever," Veyra said grimly, examining a map marked with scorch and claw. "We need allies."
Seraphina folded her arms. "We'll have to go to the Thorns."
Iridian's jaw clenched. "They haven't left their forest in a century."
"They owe Liora a debt," Lucien said. "And they're not the only ones."
That evening, they split into four parties. One to seek the Thorns in their emerald stronghold. Another to the flame-choked caverns of the Ashen Kin. A third to the ruins of Cael Umbra, where shadows were born.
Liora and Lucien rode west, toward the City of Bells—the last true stronghold of mortal kingdoms.
---
The City of Bells was not what Liora expected. It rose from golden plains like a dream carved in alabaster. Spires rang with enchanted bells that kept monsters at bay. Marketplaces thrummed with life, but under it all pulsed a constant tension.
At its heart sat Queen Maerlyn—a ruler younger than expected, but hard-eyed and clever.
"You've brought storms in your wake," she told Liora during their private council. "And prophecy. I don't like either."
"I didn't ask to be chosen," Liora said. "But the world chose me anyway."
"And you want my army?"
"I want your people safe. I want us to survive what's coming."
Queen Maerlyn studied her. "Then give me a reason. A vision. Something to believe in."
Liora held out her hand. Fire and shadow danced across her palm, weaving into the image of a phoenix rising over a crumbling world.
Maerlyn exhaled. "You'll have my banners."
---
That night, Liora stood alone on the battlements. Lucien joined her, his presence grounding.
"They're coming," she whispered. "The old dark. The beasts from beyond the Rift."
Lucien nodded. "And we'll face them. Together."
She leaned into him. "What if I fail?"
"You won't," he said. "Because you're not alone. And because failing isn't an option anymore."
Behind them, the City of Bells rang out with the midnight chime—a call to arms. The sky above them burned red as the blood moon rose.
---
Far away, beneath a mountain black as pitch, a creature clawed its way from the earth.
It had no name. Only hunger.
And Liora's scent.
It roared.
The war had begun.