its face carved with runes that pulsed dully in the dark.
The air thickened. She felt the weight of unseen gazes upon her.
"Elara."
Her name hung in the darkness like a recollection. She spun around, her chest racing with her heart.
From the darkness between the broken pillars, a man stepped forth. He was imposing, draped in armor as dark as obsidian. His helm was missing, and his face was scarred, with eyes glowing with a weak ember of a crimson fire. He was not a day over thirty, but something ageless about his eyes, something that told of centuries spent.
"You have no business here," he told him, his voice low and authoritative.
Elara gripped the map more tightly. "I came seeking answers. About my family. About here."
The man looked at her for a very long time, then a faint smile crossed his mouth—a smile that was not warm at all. "Answers are costly things. They come at a price."
The destruction surrounding them started to shift, the shine of the runes growing brighter. Elara's pendant seared against her chest, its rhythm keeping beat with the pump of her racing heart.
"What price?" she stuttered, though her voice did shake.
His eyes ignited hotter. "Your destiny.".
Thunder rolled overhead, and the ground trembled at their feet. A rumbling growl arose from the ruins, as though the growl of a long-imprisoned beast.
Elara's terror warred with determination. She advanced, defiance flickering in her eyes. "Then I'll pay it."
The man's expression shifted—surprise, then recognition. "So it begins," he murmured, as though to himself.
The storm erupted, rain sheeting down. Rubble smoldered with spectral flames, and the valley moaned in whispers of the dead. Elara threw back her chin, her cloak sweeping wide in great gusts of wind.
The night of shadows had arrived, and with it, the beginning of a destiny far greater—and far darker—than she had ever dreamed