The morning mist clung to the village like a whispered secret, softening the edges of the world but never fully hiding its scars. Aeron stood at the edge of the forest, watching Lyria prepare for the day's journey.
Her eyes were sharp, scanning the horizon, but there was a quiet tension in her stance — as if the shadows themselves were closing in.
"Where are we headed?" Aeron asked, his voice still rough but steady.
"To the ruins of Eldrath," Lyria replied. "An ancient city swallowed by time and magic. If there's any hope of uncovering who betrayed you, it's there. The Pantheon Council's influence stretches even into its ruins."
Aeron nodded, the weight of his lost past pressing heavier with each step he took.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, the trees grew twisted and gnarled, their branches weaving like skeletal fingers against the gray sky. Whispers seemed to drift on the wind, voices just beyond comprehension.
At the heart of the ruins, broken pillars and shattered statues bore silent witness to a forgotten glory. Aeron's violet eyes glimmered with a strange light as fragmented memories surged.
He reached out to touch a cracked statue of a god whose face was worn away by time — and suddenly, the world shifted.
Visions flooded his mind: a throne of stars crumbling beneath the weight of treachery, a council cloaked in shadows plotting his downfall, and a single voice screaming in betrayal — Malrik Thorne.
Aeron staggered back, breath ragged.
Lyria's hand steadied him. "You're not alone in this."
As the shadows lengthened, Aeron made a vow — to uncover the truth buried in the past, no matter how dark or painful.
For in those shadows lay the key to his redemption... and his wrath.