Valeris paused by a fountain in the center of the plaza. Water no longer flowed, but the carving along its edges was clear—a crowned figure with wings outstretched, holding a sword in one hand, and a quill in the other.
"Kingdom of Ink and Flame," Asher read aloud, running a hand along the inscription. "Their king was not only a warrior. He was their historian."
Valeris looked at him. "What kind of kingdom makes their king write history?"
"The kind that fears it being rewritten."
Suddenly, the bells tolled again—louder now, mournful and deep.
From the far end of the plaza, the memory shifted.
Something moved.
A ripple of light. A shimmering door of fire and script began forming in the air ahead.
A voice echoed around them, deep and ancient, like a narrator long-forgotten.
"Chapter One: The Betrayer's Oath."
Asher cracked his knuckles, the air around his fingers curling with soullight. "Looks like the story's starting."
