✨ Prologue: Smoke on the Horizon
The skyline was no longer blue. It shimmered orange, red, and black—a sickening dance of light that choked the skies over Elaria, the last free city before the Darklands. The people called it The Shimmering Jewel, but today, it looked more like a torch.
And at its gate, stood Arav, cloaked in the ash of the Flamekeepers' trials, the Cindering Blade on his back pulsing with heat.
Beside him, Zia watched the smoke, her hands trembling.
🏋♀️ Zia (softly):
"They're already inside, Arav. The Sovereign's shadows got here first."
🧍♂️ Arav (grimly):
"Then we don't warn the city. We save whoever we can. And we fight."
---
🌪️ Act I: A City in Panic
As they entered the city, chaos unfolded like wildfire.
Citizens ran through cobbled streets, screaming as Ash Wraiths descended from rooftops—twisted things of smoke and bone, their claws scraping reality itself. Temples burned. Soldiers fought back, but blades passed through smoke.
🧍♂️ Arav (shouting):
"Zia, head to the east walls! Get the healers! I'll draw them away."
Zia hesitated, then nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
Arav drew the Cindering Blade.
It roared to life, flames rippling down its edge.
Every swing he took lit the night—but there were too many. The city was falling.
---
🕵️ Act II: The Prophet's Mark
On the palace balcony stood a figure draped in molten crimson robes — The Ash Prophet.
🔮 Ash Prophet (chanting):
"From flame he was born. To flame he shall return. Release the Mark."
He raised a hand — and the sky split.
A brand seared itself into Arav's chest, glowing red-hot. He screamed, dropping to his knees.
Visions flooded him:
A world burning.
Zia, dead in his arms.
Himself, consumed by fire—not dying, but becoming something else.
🧍♂️ Arav (gasping):
"What... are you doing to me?!"
🔮 Ash Prophet (smiling):
"Crowning you."
---
🔚 Act III: Collapse
The palace tower erupted.
Zia, bleeding and furious, fought her way through collapsing stone. The fire was alive, almost sentient, and it avoided her—as if it feared her.
She found Arav on the cathedral steps, barely breathing.
🏋♀️ Zia (weeping):
"Hold on... please, you promised me you wouldn't burn away."
🧍♂️ Arav (weakly):
"Zia... if I die here... find the boy in the southern ruins... he holds the other Eye..."
But Zia wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not again.
She pressed her palm to his brand—and it glowed blue.
Light exploded.
---
🔆 Epilogue: The Reignition
When Arav awoke, the city was quiet.
The fire had stopped. The Ash Prophet was gone.
And Zia...
Zia sat beside him, unconscious.
But the Cindering Blade no longer burned.
It blazed.
A new symbol was etched onto its hilt—two eyes, one red, one blue.
🧍♂️ Arav (to himself):
"I wasn't crowned by them. I was chosen by her."
And in the shadows, the Sovereign's true general—The Hollow King—opened his mouth for the first time in decades:
💀 Hollow King (coldly):
"So... the boy has risen. Then the war truly begins."