The streets of Greyhaven was still wet with last night rain. Stone smelled like salt and rot, and the air bit like a hungry dog. Ryn pulled his cloak tighter, stomach making small angry sounds.
He was a thief, but tonight he has a mission,not for coin and not for bread. He had a map, old and ugly, drawn on greasy cloth. It pointed to a tomb and they said or he Heard from people that relics was buried there.
Ryn told himself lies to be brave. Just another old forgotten skeleton,Just another gate but his hands was shaking.
The tomb door stood half broken. Inside was dark, dark like no sunlight has ever penetrated through the walls of the tomb. His breath turned into small clouds and the ground crunched under his feet like bones.
Then he saw it.
A light, red-orange, like fire caught in glass. A ember, burning slow. His chest pulled tight, like it was calling him.
He reached out to it and his fingers touched.
Pain,so sharp, ran up his arm. He bit his tongue to stop the scream. Three gray marks crawled across his hand like ash worms.
And then a voice. Inside his head. Old, cold, proud and detached rang out
"Youaremine now and you carry the forgotten throne"
Ryn's knees almost gave way. He wanted to throw the ember and run, but his hand wouldn't let go. His skin felt burned and alive at once.
He stumbled out the tomb. Behind him, a bell rang. Someone must have seen. Someone was coming.
The voice whispered again, softer now, almost kind: "Remember me kid… and I will crown you"
Ryn spat on the ground, even though his lips was shaking. He didn't want crowns,he only wanted food,he able to survive this damned world but the ember kept glowing in his hand, like it already knew he was trapped and there's absolutely no one who could rescue him from it