The night breathes fire. Valdoro burns beneath a blood-coloured moon, its marble towers cracking under the weight of rebellion. Shadows dance against the flames, not soldiers, not heroes, just the desperate few who dared to defy an empire built on silence. Gina Bardi runs through the smoke-choked streets, cloak torn, eyes bright with something between fury and grief. The sigil of the Rebellion, a single white flame, glows faintly on her wrist, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Every pulse feels heavier, hotter, like something ancient has begun to stir inside her veins. "Keep moving!" Tommy shouts behind her, voice rough, smoke-clawed. He's bleeding from a cut above his brow, but the grin hasn't left his face, it never does, not even when the world falls apart. Luca is ahead of them, blade in hand, movements precise as clockwork. The air around him hums faintly, bending at his will, too subtly to be seen, too dangerous to be called coincidence. He glances back once, eyes locking with Gina's. "Now, Bardi!" he calls. "The gate—!"
She raises her hand, instinctively, fearlessly and the iron gate explodes outward in a burst of invisible force. Silence follows. Then the echoes of what shouldn't be possible. Gina stumbles, staring at her own hands, trembling. Her veins glow faintly beneath her skin, threads of light fading as quickly as they came. "Gina..." Tommy whispers, awe tangled with fear. "What—what did you just—" But there's no time for answers. The soldiers are regrouping. Their leader steps forward, draped in crimson armour and authority, Adrian Valen, heir to the Council, the one Gina once called her fiancé. His sword gleams gold in the firelight, and his voice cuts through the chaos like a verdict. "Arrest them all," he commands. "No one leaves this district alive." Their eyes meet across the flames, hers, wide with disbelief and betrayal; his, hard but uncertain. For a heartbeat, the world holds its breath. And in that moment, Gina knows two truths:
She has magic.
And the man she thought she knew will one day be her greatest enemy.
Then the spell inside her surges again, wild, ancient, hungry. The ground trembles. The flames bend toward her like they recognize her name. And as the night collapses into fire and screams, one thought burns through her mind like prophecy:
"This is where it begins."